Curious Lizzy

Way, way down south, where the sun blistered skin and the whirring of cicadas was normal background noise, was a small town in Louisiana called Riverside. Like most towns, Riverside had two prominent districts: one for the rich, wealthy folk like us, and the side where not-so-good people live, or at least that’s what my momma told me. And right smack in the middle of those areas was Riverside Park, the place where my nine-year-old self would learn a very important lesson in the summer of ‘63.

My momma was your classic southern belle: blonde hair, bright red lips, the latest fashions, doing anything she could to fit in with the town socialites. She didn't work, as most mothers didn’t, so she needed to fill her life somehow while my daddy was away all day. During the year, I had school to keep me away from her lifestyle, but once summer rolls around, I’m toast. Most afternoons consisted of meaningless garden parties and social gatherings that I was forced to accompany her to, but Thursdays, Thursdays were different. Every Thursday, at around noon, she would drag me to the park, saying I needed "sunlight," as she and the other young mothers gathered in the white gazebo for a book club. Momma would bring fruit tarts and cigarettes, Ms. Cheryl would bring drinks, Ms. Willadeene would bring a cheese board, and Ms. Ella-Mae would bring the books that they were supposedly “reading.” Personally, I doubt they actually read. I just think they needed an excuse to gossip about people like Ms. Rosalie and the worst church outfits from last Sunday, all while sipping on mint juleps, but that's just a child's perspective.

"Ok sweetheart, just go play on the swings. I'll be back in an hour. If you need me, you know where I'll be," Momma called as she strutted away, her newest t-strap heels aggressively clicking the pavement. Glancing over, I noticed the swings were all full, and I didn’t want to play on the slides -- the metal hurt on hot days like today. I needed to be in the shade. I walked over to the nearest bench to read about Curious George, my absolute favorite, but an old lady was sitting there. Her brown skin, wrinkled by the sun, looked like aged leather, and her silver hair glistened as it was wrapped in a decorative scarf. My eyes quickly darted from the lady, and then to the bench. I was weighing my options: hot metal slide, or bench with a stranger? I picked my poison, and sat on the opposite end of the bench, pulling out my book.

"Ya know, sugar, you can come closer. I ain't gonna bite ya." She gestured. She had a voice that was sweet and course all at the same time; surprisingly, it made me feel warm and safe.

"I-I'm not supposed to talk to people like you.." repeating what my momma had always told me. I looked down at my mary janes, kicking my clunky shoes together in nervousness. I noticed a speck of dirt on my white stockings...Momma would kill me for that later. 

"People like me?" she questioned. "What about me?"

"You're black, ma'am." I pointed out.

"And you're white. I don't see no problem here. You're the same as me, whether you like it or not child." I let what she said sit for a minute, and I scooted closer to her on the bench. A friendly smile formed between her lips, and I could see this lady meant no harm. I can’t wrap my mind around my momma’s reasons for telling me to avoid these people; they’re just like us!

"I'm Lizzy ma'am." I barely managed to spit out. I don't know why, but I felt like I was doing something I shouldn't, but yet it didn't feel wrong at all.

"Well Lizzy, I'm Adelaide, but just Addy is fine," she said in that sweet, sweet voice. I felt like I've known this woman all my life. "It's a pleasure to meet you child." she flashed that same welcoming smile again. I couldn't help returning it, blushing intensely. "I see you have a book there Lizzy, do you want me to read it to you?"

"Yes Ms. Addy," I replied while nodding my head up and down. I gave her my beloved book, and she opened it, nodding in approval.

"Ahh...Curious George. You have good taste, child." she smiled again,  and began reading. I knew just how the story went already, but Ms. Addy's enthusiasm and tone made it that much better. I almost felt kind of bad...I liked how Ms. Addy read to me more than Momma. This lady willingly offered to read me my Curious George, but to Momma, it was a chore. Sometimes, it seemed like I was a chore to her. I lost track of time, lost in the confusion and wonderment Ms. Addy caused me to feel. She was nicer than anyone I’d ever met: my school friends, momma, even daddy. Well, to be fair, I never really saw daddy, but when I did, he was always too tired to talk about anything. From across the green, I heard someone shouting, and that’s when Ms. Addy and I were sorely interrupted. 

  "Lizzy! I'm don- Lizzy! What, what are you doing? Get over here right now, away from that." Momma scowled as soon as she saw me with Ms. Addy.

"What do you mean Momma, Ms. Addy's my friend," I said, suddenly hurt and confused as to why she would talk about such a sweet lady that way.

"No, Lizzy, she's not, she's a bad lady. Come on, we have someplace to be," she said through gritted teeth, as she grabbed my arm and pulled me away. After seeing the defeated look on Ms. Addy's face, a face that was filled with joy and light not too long ago, I realized who the real bad lady was, and I didn't like how she was pulling my arm so hard.