Chapter 4, First Fields and Chapter 5 Legacy

Cheryl Fields, the heroine and storyteller, reflects on her stormy and close-knit relationship with her father. She becomes an accomplice to a Christian friend pledging boyfriend, Mike's, fraternity.

Chapter 4: FIRST FIELDS

 

 

     Some people describe me as a younger version of my mother, those who knew her. I’m tall and athletic like her, and my hair would be down to my waist if I let it grow. I did let it grow as a young girl because God knows I would not have wanted to go out of the house with hair my daddy had to figure out.

     I have a husky, low voice. People, especially men, talk about, “that sexy voice of yours.” Everyone seems to like it, so I thank God for the gift.

     Children of Black and White unions are some of the most misunderstood of all America’s minorities. I feel a rush of anger when decent people are hated or deceived into believing they’re liked just because they’re White. I also hate the way some Whites and even other lighter-skinned Blacks look down on our dark brothers and sisters.

     Why would anyone not acknowledge we all have the same DNA and little separates us? If one of us is a, "porch monkey," all of us are less than human. Some people think it's all in fun. I understand that racism has happened everywhere in every culture in every age.

     I still hate it.

     She died when I was five. I remember Mom vaguely, mostly from pictures. She was pretty�"bright eyes, a thin face. She had a wry smile that seemed to say she was easy to get to know, but hard to fool. Her hair was golden blond and came down to her waist. When she held me, my arms fit perfectly around her neck.

     My father loved walking down the street with us.

     He told a man one day, “This is the most beautiful woman on earth, man. The little one’s in training.”

     I love my dad almost as much as she loved him. She used to leave a different flower and a poem in his other set of boots after he left for work every day. She read them to me sometimes. I haven’t been able to bring myself to do that for Mike yet. I have so much more love inside.

     I used to take care of my dad. The alcohol abuse went unchecked when Mom died. There was no one around who was strong enough and loved Dad enough to check it.

     I used to be scared of Dad when I was little. From the time my mother died, I would have his dinner prepared when he got home, whenever that was, the house cleaned, and his clothes ready for the next day. Most days that was enough, but some nights he could be mean.

     I don’t like to think about that because, like I said, most days he was my favorite person on earth. We would read the paper together, usually after he washed the dishes and I dried. Then Dad would read my schoolbooks and help me with homework.

     We sat in the living room chairs when it was reading time. He’d read the daily paper before turning to Soldier of Fortune magazine, his favorite. I read library books, usually romance.

     I love my dad. I decided when I was 13 that I had to be that woman to love him enough to make his choice.

     “Daddy,” I said, “you’re killing yourself. You keep telling me you want me to go to college, ‘a Fields in college.’ I am not going to stand on my high school or college stage and cry because my daddy drank himself to death or killed somebody in a car crash. I packed my bags, Daddy. There’s nothing in this world I love more than you. It would break my heart to spend every night at Auntie’s on my knees praying for you to stop drinking. You have to stop, Daddy. Be at my college graduation, Daddy.”

     That’s when I broke down. I fell on my knees and stained his Navy white shoes with the tears.

     “Please stop drinking, Daddy. I...please. Please.”

     He picked me up, looked me in my eyes, and said, “You love me like she loved. I’ll stop. You have my word as a naval petty officer. My last drop dried in those tears. You have my word, Cheryl.”

     He drew me up into his arms slowly, running his fingers through my hair.

     “My baby. You’ll always be that little, hairy, perfect girl your mama had to make me hold. You were so tiny, so easy to break. You pray me through right here in this house. I don’t know...I’m just saying, it’s, there’s...you keep praying, OK? When you graduate, this soldier will find you, and I’ll be stone, cold sober from here on. You look just like your mama, baby.”

     He poured all his liquor out, called his friends, and told them about our conversation.

     That night, before I went to bed, as I was in my room reading, there was a knock at my door. At my fearful, “Come in,”�"I thought he'd changed his mind�"my daddy opened the door, walked past my bed, picked up the empty suitcase next to my dresser drawers, and said, “This is what I’ll see when I want a drink. You won’t need this until it’s time to go off to school.”

     I felt guilty when it was time to leave and go to Maryland State, but he held his part of the bargain. The only part of my dad’s promise he didn’t keep was the suitcase. He couldn’t give it back. He gave the one they used on their honeymoon.

 

 

Chapter 5: LEGACY

 

 

     “OK, tonight’s message is on monkey business. I got a short video to introduce you all to tonight’s topic. Roll the tape, Sid. OK, stop. Now, look. The monkey’s got his hand in the trap. How many of y’all figured out by now that this is a trap? OK, a few of y’all are getting it. Monkey...has his hand in trap...SEES the hunter coming. Y’all see that? Now, he got to do, the monkey got to do three things. Number 1: He’s got to let go of the fruit in the trap. I didn’t say he didn’t like the fruit. I didn’t say the fruit wasn’t good to him. I didn’t say that in another situation�"oh, some of y’all know where I’m going with this�"under very different circumstances, on a different day, it might not be a good decision to partake of this particular fruit, but TODAY, this fruit is in a trap. So, number 2: after you let go of the fruit, take your hand out of the trap. One, let go of the fruit. Two, take your hand out of the trap. And number three? Can anyone tell me number three? What? Run? Ri-i-ight! Oh, by the way, those are my three points for tonight’s sermon. The hunter’s name is Tim. You got it. Last name is Tation. All right, we’ve got a saying: ‘Monkey see, monkey do.’ Roll the tape, Sid, and let’s see what that little monkey’s going to do. Y’all see that? The hunter is walking�"walking up to the monkey. That monkey won’t let go of the fruit. The hunter...come on, monkey...come on, monkey...THAT monkey won’t let go of the fruit. See...look closely...right there...CAUGHT. Now he’s stuck his hand into a new future: monkey meat on some monkey meat lover’s table. Turn to your neighbor. Say, neighbor,...the Bible says,...‘and God created man,’...so Darwin was wrong,...but, neighbor,...I’ve been a monkey before.”

     I wanted to hear more, but someone was knocking on my door. Listening to Sunday evening preachers wasn’t my thing, but this TV show always had me laughing. I turned the volume down.

     One good thing about being a Resident Assistant was I got paid to have my own room. That also meant the lonely freshman, the suddenly-wise girlfriend who caught her notoriously unfaithful boyfriend cheating, and every other troubled heart on my floor had 24-hour privilege to whatever wisdom my four hours of “Campus Resource and Listening Skills” training could provide. I wondered how much nodding and open-ended questioning stood between me and the end of the monkey story.

     I opened the door, and there stood Perry. I was a little embarrassed at how excited his unannounced drop-by made me. He had a way of bringing out the playful side of me few can reach.

     “Perry, so nice of you to visit. What brings you my way?”

     “Hi, Cheryl. I hope I’m not interrupting. I had something I thought you could help me sort through. May I come in?”

     I moved aside and swept an arm towards the desk Auntie gave me. It was one of those old, rolltop, secretary desks where you had to roll back the cover and these nooks and crannies were inside. She said my poems would change the world.

     Perry seemed troubled. I poked him in the side as he walked towards my desk.

     “Girl troubles? I know they’re all over you. One of my sorors asked about you. I told her she needs to spend more time in church and less in bars. You can roll up that top and rest your arm.”

     Perry laughed and eased a bit. He took his seat, rolled up the top, and immediately spotted the Delta stationary and on it my latest love letter to Mike. Before I could react, he had snatched it up and was reading aloud.

     “Dear Mike, your last kiss lingers”

     I raced over and snatched at the paper. He was taking delight in plucking the purloined letter out of my reach every time I tried another quick grab. After three or four failed attempts�"he was as quick in person as on the basketball court�"he smiled and handed it to me. I snatched it anyway for effect.

     “I see,” I said, “I’m going to have to watch where I let some people sit.”

     Perry laughed, pulled the desktop back down and said, “I’ll only share what you freely give me. You’re pretty quick. I’m not used to dealing with lightning reflexes like yours. You always write such beautiful prose?”

     “You saw enough to know it was a poem?”

     “I got a glimpse. I love poetry. You watch Christian TV?”

     “It’s Sunday, not much else on. I like this guy. I can’t think of his name, but he keeps me glued to the TV set.”

     “Saul. Pastor Saul.”

     “Oh, of course you would know.”

     “Why do you say that, Cheryl?”

     “You’re a preacher kind of guy, he’s a television preacher.”

     “He’s a brilliant man.”

     “I like his sermons, not really sermonlike but stories I can relate to. He’s really funny.”

     “You know he went to school here when the university had just begun admitting Blacks?”

     “When was that?”

     “Early 50’s. He and two other Blacks broke the color line. He’s half-Jewish. That may have helped. His father was on the Board of Regents. Pastor Saul founded this campus chapter of Kappa Alpha Omega.”

     “Wait. Saul. Saul and Caesar, Saul, the ones Mike and the brothers sing about?”

     “Same ones. I’m surprised Mike never told you about him.”

     “So much of what goes on with Mike and that fraternity is secret, but I wonder if he knows? One of them would have said something. That’s strange.”

     Perry sat forward. I leaned back and held Mike’s poem behind my back in case he tried a fast one.

     “You’re quick-handed too. You sure you keep your promises?”

     “I came to give to you, Cheryl, not take. Your private things are going to remain safe.”

     He circled his hand in a “come closer” motion. I leaned forward, the note still behind my back. He tilted his head to the side, pursed his lips, and stretched his arm farther, still motioning me to come close.

     As I leaned in, he leaned his head close to mine and whispered, “Can you hand me that letter?”

     I looked at him as if he was crazy. Something in his eyes said he wouldn’t betray my trust. I’m a good character judge, and the mood had changed. I felt like he really needed me to trust him. He had come to me because he needed my help.

     I handed the letter over to Perry.

     Perry took my poem, rolled the desktop up and placed it where he found it, carefully positioning to recapture its undisturbed placement. Once satisfied, Perry rolled my desktop back where no one could see inside.

     “Cheryl, I’ve been thinking about pledging Mike’s fraternity. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time and now it’s here. Would you help me?”

     “Whoa, I’m not sure you understand my Kappas. They are heavy drinkers, love to party, don’t believe in one woman, except for Mike, and barely avoid getting their right to indoctrinate new members revoked because their hazing record is so off the chart. Is that what you want, Perry?”

     “The hazing I don’t want, Cheryl.”

     Perry pulled the desk seat out so he’d have room to rest his arm on his knees.

     “I didn’t come here to change the way they do business. I want to pledge for my own reasons, which I can’t discuss. Trust me on that?”

     I nodded my head, yes. I noticed Pastor Saul had the entire congregation on their feet. Perry and I watched a moment, a smile of admiration on his face. I tapped his hand.

     “OK, you got my trust. What do you need?”

     “I’m a freshman, meaning I can’t pledge until second semester.”

     “It just so happens the Kappas won’t be able to pledge a Line until Spring.”

     I didn’t add, “if then,” and give information Mike had given privately.

     “I’ll need help. Truthfully, Cheryl, I felt when I first saw you our lives would be linked. I don’t want to seem odd, but I get feelings about people.”

     “Me too.”

     I said it half to make him feel comfortable, but mostly because it’s true.

     “Would you give me the inside scoop? What could keep me off the next Line?”

     “Three things will do the trick: one, you don’t fit the criteria; two, they think you might not make it, in which case you would be a major liability and a threat to get them kicked off the yard; or, three, one vote from one eligible brother can blackball you from pledging. Do you really want to go through with this? I can help, but you can’t turn back once you start. I would be crushed.”

     “You think I’m a quitter, Cheryl?”

     I leaned forward, almost face-to-face.

     “I think if you want me to help you, you better know this girl goes all the way.”

     Perry leaned back, eyed me a few seconds, and said, “I did come to the right place.”

     He took my hand in a way my father used to clasp it, like in the protest marches where our thumbs intertwine, and it’s easy to pull one another forward into a shoulder bump. He kept a distance, but pulled me towards his lips as he moved my head over his shoulder. Perry spoke directly into my ear.

     “Father, I ask you to form a special bond with my new friend, Cheryl. She has a wonderful and loving relationship with Mike Johnson. Preserve that, I pray, Father. Make it grow. Help them to know you as you are: a loving father. You have put special affection for Cheryl in me. Show your intention for our lives. Keep Cheryl from harm. Take away every lie in her life, and give her life eternal. Let Cheryl know your purpose for her life, and give her the desires of her heart. Let me know this woman as friend and be a support to her, I pray, for the rest of our lives. Give us success in what we are planning, and help her know you, Lord. In Jesus’ name I pray. Amen.”

     Perry pulled back and seemed unafraid of the tears forming in my eyes. He gave a knowing smile. I don’t even know when they came, I was so intent on what he was saying, but it was something I’d never experienced.

     Perry dabbed at my eyes with my Delta T-shirt that had been lying on the back of his chair. I took it from him and finished the job.

     “I never cry for no reason like that. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

     Perry took the shirt from me, folded it, and laid it back over his chair.

     “I never experienced being so free to tell someone how they’ve affected me, even during prayer. I’m a little shook up myself.”

     Perry thought for a second, then got up to leave.

     “I will think about what you shared, Cheryl. Your help means a lot. Truthfully, this is something I have to make sure I’m doing for the right reasons. Will you pray for me?”

I laughed.

     “Pray for you? That’s like Superman asking Mickey Mouse for help in a fight.”

     “More people are afraid of mice than Superman, Cheryl. Don’t ever lose sight of your power in prayer. OK?”

     I shook my head in agreement. Anyone else saying that, and it would have sounded like a punch line. He left me feeling I could do anything.

     “OK, Superman, I’ll pray for you.”

     “I’m sorry, Cheryl,” Perry said, pointing towards the TV. “Your show’s gone off.”

     “Awww, I really wanted to hear that story.”

     “He’s in Chicago. We’ll see him in person when we get home.”

     I laughed and said, “You got yourself a date, my friend.”

     Perry walked to the door.

     “It was a pleasure praying with you, Cheryl.”

     “You too. Thank you. You know where I am.”

     “I do.”

     “Don’t be a stranger, Perry...”

     “David. Perry David from the great city of Chicago.”

     “Cheryl Fields, a proud citizen of the greatest city on earth.”

     “Thanks, Cheryl.”

     “Anytime.”

     “Bye.”

     “Bye.”