Despite the white world in which I lived, I kept connected to the Negro community. Each Sunday morning I took a bus across town to Roxbury, to the Baptist church I had attended since my return from Africa. I knew the congregation well and they knew me. They knew I was a lawyer, and some of them came to me for advice about their legal problems. Mostly their problems stemmed from landlord issues, such as people about to be evicted from their homes because they couldn’t pay the rent, or from a husband or child who was being charged with some misdemeanor and the family had no money for bail or anyone to represent them in court. I offered them advice and did not charge them for it, but I did not become fully involved in any of their problems until a woman came to me about a medical issue. She had been denied services at a doctor’s office in Boston. Her situation was similar to mine when I had been rejected by the Boulder medical office.
I talked to Guy about it. Guy was hesitant about taking the case. “This doctor works for a professional corporation. Unless you can prove the woman was denied medical care because of her race—and that might be hard to do—you’ll have no case. According to law, he has a right to accept or reject anyone he chooses.”
“I know. But I plan to file a complaint with the Massachusetts Commission Against Discrimination.”
“Could take a lot of time, and you won’t be able to bill for it,” Guy cautioned.
“It’ll be my time,” I said. “I need to help this woman.”
Guy offered me his help if I needed it, but I forged on alone. I filed a complaint with the Commission which investigated the matter, but discrimination could not be proved. I chose not to give up, and I told the woman I represented not to give up either. We would bide our time and we would file again. I told several people who came to me much the same thing. We had to wait for another day.
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
I did not see Guy again until Monday morning at the law office. He had not called or come by after Stacey left, and I chose not to call him. “Your brother get off okay?” he asked.
“He left shortly after you did.”
“I thought he wasn’t leaving until Sunday.”
“Changed his mind.”
“What about that friend of yours who’s in trouble?”
I did not want to talk about Moe with Guy, although Moe had been constantly on my mind since Stacey left. I had called Lawyer Tate throughout the weekend and finally reached him at home late Sunday night. He told me what I already knew about extradition laws. “If Moe is in Canada and they arrest him there,” Lawyer Tate said, “they’ll send him back to Mississippi. If he’s still in the States, same thing. Now, we can fight the extradition, but most likely either way he’ll be on his way to Mississippi. There’s really nothing to be done until then. Let’s talk about it when you come home for Christmas.”
In answer to Guy’s question, I said, “He still is.”
Guy knew me well enough not to press the matter. “Well, I assume since you didn’t leave with your brother, you won’t be going early to Toledo. That means you can come up to Maine for my parents’ Christmas party.” Although Guy’s parents had a house in Boston, they also had what they called a vacation house in Maine and Guy said they usually spent their holidays there.
“Guy, I told you before I don’t know about that.”
“And I told you before they’d be happy to have you. Several other people from the office are going up. A couple of them will be staying at the house too. My parents know about you and they’re getting a room ready.”
I smiled. “They know all about me?”
Guy smiled too. “Well, I didn’t want them to be shocked when you arrived.”
“No, wouldn’t want that,” I laughed.
Guy grew serious. “Look, Cassie, they’re not stupid people. My dad and my uncle have seen us together, and they’re experienced enough to know a relationship when they see it.”
“Have they said anything?”
Guy shook his head. “Not to me. I know they’d rather I’d be with my ex-wife or someone like her, but so far, they’ve said nothing.”
I didn’t respond.
Guy put his finger under my chin and lifted my face upward. “So are you coming to Maine?”
“If I do, I don’t want it to be like that other time we ventured out together.” On that occasion Guy and a married couple who had gone on the trip abroad with us and to Africa had persuaded me to go to a Boston nightclub. The club was white, and although the entertainers onstage were colored, I was asked to leave. We had already been seated when the manager told us we were not welcome. The next day Guy had filed a discrimination suit against the club, but the suit went nowhere, which did not surprise either of us.
The club claimed it was a private club, for members only. We knew that it was not, just an excuse to deny me admission. It mattered to me that Guy had cared enough to file a suit against the club, but that was the last time I had gone to a public place with him. “Don’t worry, it won’t be anything like that,” Guy said. “You know I’m still sorry about that.”
“Yeah, I know you are. I am too.”
* * *
◆ ◆ ◆
I had met Guy Hallis during my first year of law school. I was the only colored person in the class, and he had come right over and sat beside me and said, “Is this seat taken?”
I had looked around. Other empty seats were available, and I answered, “Guess not, just like all the others sitting there unoccupied.”
Guy had laughed, sat down, and opened his notebook as the professor approached the podium. He had said nothing else to me, not even when the class was over, but twice a week when the class met he sat in the chair beside mine, even when I sat in a chair different from the previous class. He always spoke pleasantly and with a smile. I always returned his greeting, minus the smile. He made me feel awkward, and silently I questioned why he was always sitting next to me, although I knew of course that it had nothing to do with the available seating. I knew that he was trying to befriend me. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was just because I was the lone Negro in the class. Maybe he thought I needed a friend.
I didn’t.
I went my lone way and was accustomed to it. Since arriving in Boston I had met few people outside the law school. I had no real friends, no need for friends, and I preferred it that way. I had come here to study law. I wasn’t interested in friendships. But Guy Hallis was. At the end of one of the winter class sessions he asked if I would join him for coffee. As I gathered my books, I shook my head. “Can’t,” I said. “I’ve got other plans.”