Jonesy was the black maid that my mother hired to help take care of me when I was a baby in Chapel Hill. She cosseted me and ironed my baby clothes and shook out the frills, just like Mrs. Tiggywinkle.
We used to see the Klan riding in bedsheets down the street outside our house at night.
When I was two, one day in my parents‘ bedroom, she lifted up her multitudinous pettycoats and showed me her penis. ―I have one. Why don‘t you have one? I don‘t know.‖
My mother was at the dentist. Jonesy took my hand and said, ―I want you to meet all my friends.‖ We walked way around Victory Village, past the Coop and out the street behind our tiny house. We came to a vacant lot and then a big old white-gray house. Jonesy took me up the steps.
We came into a living room full of black women. Some of them were very fat and others were thin and sickly looking. One thin woman was putting white powder on her skin.
Two other thin women were combing each other‘s hair.
―Look what I got,‖ said Jonesy. She presented me proudly. ―Susannah Robbins.‖
―Oh, Lawd,‖ said the fat one – she was very black – ―isn‘t she cute?‖ She took me in her arms and gave me a big hug. ―Look at those blue eyes!‖ I yawned.
―I think she wants to go to sleep!‖ one of the thin, yellowish ones who had been combing the other‘s hair exclaimed. ―Lay down here, darling.‖
I lay down on little chaise longue. I shut my eyes. ―Oh, look she‘s going to sleep!‖ the fat one cooed. The smell of perfume was overwhelming. I fainted.
I heard Jonesy say, ―Oh, Lawd, I‘se got to get her back. Her mother will think this is real serious.‖ She yanked my hand and we tottered back down the street, past the vacant lot where the smell of wild rose and honeysuckle was wafting out, engulfing us.