“Sir?”
“Are you all right, Cassie?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You need me to come down?”
“No, sir. I’m fine.”
He was silent a moment. “Well, you’re a grown woman now and I know you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, so I expect you made the right decision for yourself. You need me, there’s something you can’t handle, you let me know. I’ll come down.”
“I know.”
When I hung up, I sighed, relieved that Uncle Hammer hadn’t questioned me further. I knew he had sensed something was wrong. I also knew I couldn’t lie to him. I didn’t want him to come, yet it gave me comfort to know he would. Even though we were separated by all those miles, just knowing Uncle Hammer was in the same state allowed me a sense of having family near. Still, as I went to sleep my first night at Mrs. Hendersen’s, I felt a loneliness I hadn’t felt before. I was alone in the city of Los Angeles. I was alone now, except for Flynn, but I didn’t know if I should count him in my life yet.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
It wasn’t until early Sunday morning that I remembered that I was supposed to go to Sunday dinner and a movie with John Means. I did not have his number and I wasn’t planning on going to church since it was the same church the Tomlinsons attended. I also did not want to call the Tomlinson house to leave a message for John Means, but the arrangement was that he was to call for me there. Once again I had to seek out Justine as my go-between. Justine usually did not go to church, but spent her Saturday nights enjoying herself with J.D. at a club. My call woke her. When she answered the phone, her voice was groggy and she was in a bad mood. I got right to the point. I told her that I wanted her to call Mrs. Tomlinson to tell John Means when she saw him at church that I had moved and to give him my new number.
“What about my brother Flynn?” Justine asked harshly.
“What about him?”
“You going out with this Means man after you spent all night with my brother?”
“Yes,” I said, figuring this was none of her business, but adding, “Did Flynn tell you what we did all night?”
“He don’t talk much to me ’bout those kind of things.”
“Well, I don’t either,” I countered. “Will you call Mrs. Tomlinson or not?”
“All right. Give me her number.”
Soon after church services, John Means called and a few hours later arrived at Mrs. Hendersen’s house for our date. Because I didn’t know John Means that well, and because it was the custom from my upbringing, I had insisted another couple join us. Of course, I had totally dismissed this custom when it had come to Flynn, but then Flynn was in a category by himself. There was no comparison.
I introduced John Means to Mrs. Hendersen, who was in the living room when he arrived, and she sat there chatting with him for a few minutes before she said it was time for her to retire to her room and asked me to help her there. Once we were alone, Mrs. Hendersen said, “You know I don’t hardly know you, Cassie, so excuse an old lady for butting in, but I can’t understand why your first gentleman caller is this Mr. Means and not that fine young man Flynn. I’ve seen a lot in my long life, and one thing I was feeling was something strong between you and that boy.”
I liked her thinking. “You really think it was strong? On his part too?”
“Maybe because you kept looking away, you didn’t see how he was looking at you. So, why are you going out with this John Means person? He seems like a nice enough young man, but he can’t come close to Flynn, and I believe you know that.”
I did know that, but I said to Mrs. Hendersen, “John Means asked me out. Flynn didn’t.”
I rejoined John Means, but throughout the evening I kept thinking on what Mrs. Hendersen had said, and about the night I had spent with Flynn. Dinner was pleasant enough; we went to a Negro café in the neighborhood and the food was good. The other couple kept the conversation going. I had little to say. John Means was very attentive and asked me several times if I was having a good time. I smiled brightly and told him I was, but my mind was on Flynn. At the movie theater John Means again asked me if I was enjoying myself and placed his arm around my shoulders as we watched the movie. I did not pull away, but I did not move toward him either, and I was glad he did not try to hold my hand.
After the movie, as the crowd spilled onto the sidewalk, John Means put his arm around me again, almost possessively this time, as we stood with a group of people he knew. Moviegoers for the later show were arriving and I was mostly silent watching them, ready to get back to Mrs. Hendersen’s but waiting politely as John Means and his friends talked. Just as they finished their conversation and started to part, I saw Flynn. He was not alone. He was with a woman of very light complexion, almost white, in fact. She was tall, well-dressed, sophisticated-looking. She was a striking woman. I was totally caught off guard. I stared at them, then tried to move away before Flynn saw me. I was not successful. Flynn suddenly looked my way and our eyes met. He did not flash that smile of his, but his eyes did not turn away.
It was I who turned. “Are we going?” I said to John Means, who apparently had noticed nothing. His arm still around me, John Means smiled down and walked me away from the crowd. I do not know if Flynn’s gaze followed me.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
I couldn’t sleep. I did not know why seeing Flynn with that woman of his had upset me so. This was only the third time I had seen him. I hardly knew the man. John Means and his friends and I had gone to the early evening show. We were back at Mrs. Hendersen’s before nine and I had gone to bed right after. Before ten o’clock, Florence, one of the women at the house, knocked on my door. “Cassie, there was a call for you,” she said. “Mrs. Hendersen took it. She said that it was from Flynn and he wants to see you. Said he would be coming later.”
“What?” I asked. “Why? What time?”
“Didn’t say. Mrs. Hendersen told him he could just knock on the door. If you wanted to see him, you’d answer it.”
All of this was surprising to me, and for a moment I didn’t say anything. “Well,” said Florence, “are you going to see him?”
“Don’t know. Is Mrs. Hendersen still awake?”
“Was a few minutes ago. Usually stays up late ’til maybe midnight.”
I thought a moment. “Do you think she’d mind if I wanted to talk to her now?”
“You know what she says. Her door is always open.”
I put on my housecoat and went to see Mrs. Hendersen. She welcomed me in. She was already in bed, but sitting up reading a book. “So! The young man wants to see you!” she declared as I came in. “He sounded pretty eager to talk to you, but why so late?”