“Did she?”
“No. That was Justine.” He sighed. “Look, Cassie, while I was in jail those three days I did a lot of thinking about my life, about us. I’ve been trying to get things straightened out concerning Faye before I made a commitment to you, but I’m thinking now I’ve gone about this all wrong.” He took both my hands into his. “Cassie, I want us to be married.”
I had not expected this, not tonight. I said nothing.
“I’ve never thought about a woman the way I think about you.” He bowed his head and was silent before he looked at me again. “You remember I told you it’s more than your body I want and you asked what else I wanted? It’s a family I want with you, Cassie. I want us to have children together. You’re the only woman I’ve ever envisioned being the mother of my children. That’s what I wanted. That’s what I want. I love you, Cassie.”
My voice was barely a whisper. “I love you too, Flynn.”
Flynn leaned closer to me. “I want us to get married right now, before the week’s out. I don’t want to wait.”
I pulled from him. “What?”
“I don’t want you to slip away from me or anything to come between us.”
“I’m not going to slip away, Flynn, and what could come between us? Faye?”
“Not if we don’t let her. Cassie, a lot of things in my life have slipped away. My brothers in a heartbeat, and being in that war, I learned that we can’t count any days beyond the day we’re living. In a heartbeat I could have been killed. Getting beaten by the police, being in that jail away from you, not knowing what was happening to you made me do a lot of thinking. I want you now. I don’t want to wait. Why should we? I love you and you love me. There’s no reason to wait. I want to begin my life with you.” His eyes fixed on mine. “Marry me now, Cassie.”
“Not without my family!”
He held my hands again. “Cassie, I know it won’t be the kind of wedding you want, but I promise I’ll work to give you everything else you want. I want to take care of you, to be there for you, to do the best to give you whatever I can. You can trust me on that. You can always trust me.”
What Flynn was asking was almost too much to take in at past three o’clock in the morning. A wedding without Mama and Papa, without Big Ma, without my brothers. How could I do that? Flynn was silent, awaiting my answer. His face was so swollen and bruised, and all I could see as I looked at him was how much he was wanting me, and feeling how much I was wanting him. Flynn’s hands grew tighter around mine. Uncontrollably, I leaned toward him, knowing that if Flynn were to become my husband he would be all I would ever need. I was in love with this man, and he was what I wanted. I put my arms around his neck, touched my forehead to his, and whispered, “Yes, Flynn, I know I can.”
We were married the following Sunday.
CASSIE’S LOVE STORY
CHAPTER IV
(1949–1950)
All my life I had been wrapped in love. I had been blessed with love from my family, from the church, from friends, from others too. Now Flynn wrapped me in love. But this was a new kind of love, a different kind of love, all-consuming and all-giving. It was the kind of love that made me smile just thinking about it. It gave me peace, made me feel safe. It made me want to wake in the mornings and look forward to the nights. It was the kind of love that angered me when others encroached upon it. It possessively wrapped its arms around me and made me fear losing it. It was the kind of love I had dreamed would be mine, but each dawn when I awoke, I was still in wonder that it was.
Flynn had moved from his apartment and we had gotten another apartment in Los Angeles. It was small, one bedroom, but together we painted it with warm, vibrant colors and made it comfortable. The kitchen and living room were in one room. Also in the room and taking up a great portion of it was a large architect table Flynn had recently bought. I didn’t like its being there, but I kept my silence about it. We hung native rugs bought during our trips to Mexico and Arizona on the walls, and I dotted the apartment with greenery. We both loved music, especially jazz. Flynn already had a collection of records and they lined the floor next to his record player. Each evening after work we sat on the sofa, usually in each other’s arms, reading or talking, but always listening to the music.
Ours was a sweet life.
Weekdays were pleasant, quiet, and routine. Flynn continued working construction, but I was no longer working as a ticket taker at the Lincoln Theater since more and more I had been asked to work evening hours. Instead, I was working at a weekly Negro community newspaper. It too was on Central Avenue. My job was secretarial and proofreading copy from local contributors. It was low-paying and dull, but it was fine for now. One evening a week, Flynn and I both took noncredit courses at UCLA, Flynn in architecture, and I in law. The weekends were quite different. Sometimes we went to the neighborhood café that had good southern cooking, other times we went to more fashionable restaurants, but my favorite place to dine was at the Peña café. We didn’t go there often because the Peñas would not allow us to pay. We began to visit them at their home instead.
After dinner we would either go to a movie or take in a live performance at the Lincoln or a jazz club where we joined Justine and J.D. or others Flynn knew. Flynn didn’t much like to dance. He refused to be out there “bouncing around,” as he said. But I loved the dancing and so did most of Flynn’s friends, so I was never without a dance partner and Flynn didn’t object. He sat back and watched me as I danced, a smile on his face. He just wanted me to be happy. He was always proud of me and he liked showing me off. Occasionally I could get him up for a slow dance and he would tease me. “Can’t understand it. A Baptist country girl like you loving to dance.”
“Baptist country girl like me never got a chance to dance in the country,” I replied.
“A lot of things a Baptist country girl didn’t get to do.”
“I know . . .” I smiled up at him. “But I get to do them now.” And he laughed.
Saturday mornings were the best mornings of the week. We slept late, but by midmorning we were up and Flynn took off for the neighborhood basketball court in the park. Sometimes I went with him to watch him play with other young men of the neighborhood or throw a few baskets myself before the game started. Later in the day, we either headed up the coast, enjoying the small towns dotting the road leading to San Francisco, or down the coast to Tijuana, sometimes east to Arizona, or to Flynn’s mountain acreage, and sometimes to parts unknown. Flynn liked just to get in the car and drive, and I looked forward to that too. If we came across a place we liked, we explored it and spent the night either in the car out in the open or, if we could afford it, sometimes even at a motor court. We went to fairs and to ball games and to amusement parks and sometimes to pool halls, where Flynn taught me how to play pool.