Death of Innocence : The Story of the Hate Crime That Changed America (9781588363244) by Jesse Rev (FRW) Christopher; Jackson Mamie; Benson Till-Mobley
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That’s when she began to take it all very seriously.
Our family doctor examined me and told Mama that I had an enlarged heart. It seems that I had been exposed to rheumatic fever. A classmate of mine had developed it and died. I had shaken it off without incident, but apparently it had left me with a leaky valve, which would affect me all my life. So, I had an enlarged heart, which sounded like it should have been a good thing to a young girl. But it wasn’t a good thing. It wasn’t good at all.
The doctor ordered me to bed immediately. No lights. I could not read. No company. The shades had to be drawn. There could be nothing to excite me or stimulate my heart. My mother had to hook up a bell, and we developed a code so that she would know what I needed by the number of times I’d ring for her.
I was confined to bed for more than three months, and at some point during that time I was able to begin reading books again, to catch up onmy schoolwork, and finally to return to school, which made me very happy. It was a close call. Mama never really said any more about it, but it stayed with me and helped me to understand that anything out of the ordinary could be a big deal. A raw feeling in my chest wound up being something quite serious, a heart problem. My father had left my mother and me, and that had hurt me very deeply. The doctor had given us a logical explanation, said I suffered from an enlarged heart, a leaky valve, a byproduct of rheumatic fever. But I knew differently. I knew that what I really suffered was a broken heart.
By the time I started thinking about the Detroit move, Daddy and I had already reestablished some limited contact. I talked to my mother and told her what I had been thinking about doing and she encouraged me to call my father. As it turned out, I was happy that she and I talked. She let me know that what had happened between her and Daddy was between her and Daddy. It was not my problem. It was not my fault. And it should not be my burden to carry around for the rest of my life. She reminded me that Wiley Nash Carthan was my father and that I should treat him like my father. Her words meant a lot, but it was the message in between the words that was even more meaningful. For in that space was acceptance and absolution. And if Mama could take that position, then certainly I could. I was thankful for that talk, one that was long overdue. It was a transforming experience, and it would allow me to once again share with my father my life, and now my son.
I made the call. I made the arrangements. I made ready to leave Argo. This was a big deal for me. A very big deal. And I had mixed feelings about the move. On the one hand, I was apprehensive, but then I knew I would have family around to look out for me. On the other hand, I was eager to set out on a new trail, head for a new adventure. I was so eager for a new life that I convinced myself that Bo shared that excitement, never realizing what that kind of eagerness might cost a person.
Daddy had been all too happy to accommodate Bo and me. He would try to help me find a job and a permanent place to stay. Meanwhile, we were welcome to stay with him and his wife, A.D. While Daddy was eager to help, A.D. had a different attitude about the whole thing. They hadn’t been married long. She’d once been married to a preacher who passed, and she was a “first lady.” I mean she was as proud and snobby as she needed to be. Anyway, I settled into the small room Bo and I would call home for a short while. And that room was so tiny. It had a small bed and a vanity-style dresser with a little stool that went under the dresser. And that was it, that’s all that you could get into that room. If I wanted to makethe bed, I had to crawl over it and reach and tuck it in on the other side. But I knew this was a temporary arrangement, and I was grateful for the accommodations.
There also was perfume on that vanity, which, of course, I would never touch. But
Our family doctor examined me and told Mama that I had an enlarged heart. It seems that I had been exposed to rheumatic fever. A classmate of mine had developed it and died. I had shaken it off without incident, but apparently it had left me with a leaky valve, which would affect me all my life. So, I had an enlarged heart, which sounded like it should have been a good thing to a young girl. But it wasn’t a good thing. It wasn’t good at all.
The doctor ordered me to bed immediately. No lights. I could not read. No company. The shades had to be drawn. There could be nothing to excite me or stimulate my heart. My mother had to hook up a bell, and we developed a code so that she would know what I needed by the number of times I’d ring for her.
I was confined to bed for more than three months, and at some point during that time I was able to begin reading books again, to catch up onmy schoolwork, and finally to return to school, which made me very happy. It was a close call. Mama never really said any more about it, but it stayed with me and helped me to understand that anything out of the ordinary could be a big deal. A raw feeling in my chest wound up being something quite serious, a heart problem. My father had left my mother and me, and that had hurt me very deeply. The doctor had given us a logical explanation, said I suffered from an enlarged heart, a leaky valve, a byproduct of rheumatic fever. But I knew differently. I knew that what I really suffered was a broken heart.
By the time I started thinking about the Detroit move, Daddy and I had already reestablished some limited contact. I talked to my mother and told her what I had been thinking about doing and she encouraged me to call my father. As it turned out, I was happy that she and I talked. She let me know that what had happened between her and Daddy was between her and Daddy. It was not my problem. It was not my fault. And it should not be my burden to carry around for the rest of my life. She reminded me that Wiley Nash Carthan was my father and that I should treat him like my father. Her words meant a lot, but it was the message in between the words that was even more meaningful. For in that space was acceptance and absolution. And if Mama could take that position, then certainly I could. I was thankful for that talk, one that was long overdue. It was a transforming experience, and it would allow me to once again share with my father my life, and now my son.
I made the call. I made the arrangements. I made ready to leave Argo. This was a big deal for me. A very big deal. And I had mixed feelings about the move. On the one hand, I was apprehensive, but then I knew I would have family around to look out for me. On the other hand, I was eager to set out on a new trail, head for a new adventure. I was so eager for a new life that I convinced myself that Bo shared that excitement, never realizing what that kind of eagerness might cost a person.
Daddy had been all too happy to accommodate Bo and me. He would try to help me find a job and a permanent place to stay. Meanwhile, we were welcome to stay with him and his wife, A.D. While Daddy was eager to help, A.D. had a different attitude about the whole thing. They hadn’t been married long. She’d once been married to a preacher who passed, and she was a “first lady.” I mean she was as proud and snobby as she needed to be. Anyway, I settled into the small room Bo and I would call home for a short while. And that room was so tiny. It had a small bed and a vanity-style dresser with a little stool that went under the dresser. And that was it, that’s all that you could get into that room. If I wanted to makethe bed, I had to crawl over it and reach and tuck it in on the other side. But I knew this was a temporary arrangement, and I was grateful for the accommodations.
There also was perfume on that vanity, which, of course, I would never touch. But
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