"Valentine's Day:" A Short Story About Black Girlhood
"The following is an excerpt from a creative non-fiction account of my Grandmother's life in her 20th century experience of growing up in a Black neighborhood in Fort Worth, TX. The stories reveal the day to day trials and joys of a little Black girl navigating this world" -- Mary Okonkwo “My weddin’ day was April 22, 1945, a Sunday after church. We got married at Mother’s house on Davis.1 My dress cost fifteen dollas, and I guess it’s what you call, “off-the-rack.” It was pretty, white, with alternating lace. Rev’rend J. H. Green from mah church officiated. Miss Welch brought three or four baskets of flowers. Ain’t Clara had cut roses from the garden and decorated the arch in the house between the kitchen and livin’ room. Mother made the cake . . . the best kind of cake there is. Pound cake. And I decorated it. I wish I had thought to git a photographer or somethin’ like that. Anyhow Delaney showed up. He brought me some of mah fave’rit flowers . . . you know the white flowers that grow on a bush, like a small magnolia. Yes, that’s right, Gardenias . . . And then I got married . . . and my life was over.”
Mary “May” Katherine had thus far led as charmed of a life as possible for someone in her shoes. She had all the love, admiration, adoration, and respect of not only Mother, Fred, Claude, Dorothy, Lester Junior, and all her friends, but also of people she just met in her adventures. It was 1944. She was seventeen years old, three years out of high school, six months back from her sojourn in California, and ready to start the next adventure of life.
On a rather ordinary day in February, MK was taking the midday bus home to Mother’s house on Amanda Street. Upon her return from California, MK had been welcomed with open arms into her old position as an elevator operator at Harris Hospital downtown. But, she knew as the soldiers and seamen slowly returned from their war posts, jobs for women would soon be scarce. Already her shifts were being cut to half days, less hours per week, and several men had already been hired on in the kitchen. It wouldn’t be long before they, too, worked their way up through the ranks into less demanding service positions.
Maybe Mother and Aunt Clara had been somewhat right when they told her these carefree days of single life, plenty of pocket money, and no responsibility for anyone but herself would come to an end.
But, these thoughts were easily pushed aside when after just two stops a young man, whom she didn’t recognize as a regular on this route, boarded the bus, carrying the most neatly wrapped heart-shaped package topped with a dozen or so ruby red roses carefully sheltered from the elements with cellophane.
As he fumbled a bit to get the change out of his front pocket for the fare, MK realized Valentine’s Day was just one day away. How could she have forgotten this? Must have been all of the work hours and not having a dedicated beau to remind. But, here was this young and good looking man, taller than her, brown smooth skin, only interrupted by a few razor burn bumps along the line of his chin. He had a handsome enough face, round with almond eyes, and he kept his hair shaved really close to his head. As he walked down the aisle to the empty seats behind MK, she fixed her thoughts on how nice it would be to have a man like this buying gifts for her on Valentine’s Day. And even though she was sure Mother and her brother Junior would have a small trinket for her, their tokens of love were somewhat expected, though they didn’t go unappreciated. But, for a woman of almost eighteen years, romantic love was something to be anticipated. MK knew she was pretty enough, even though Dorothy had taken after Mother with the light, bright, almost white skin and softly curled hair. MK had a build men couldn’t help but look after, especially if they caught a glimpse of her face. Being pretty was one thing. Knowing you were pretty and using the power of attraction to get what you wanted was something else. Something MK had been perfecting since her trip to California. So as Mr. Valentine moseyed on past MK to an open seat closer to the open window, she resolved to get herself a romantic Valentine before that bus ride was over.
After the next stop, MK decided to see if Mr. Valentine would take interest in her. She picked up her purse and began to mosey herself back towards the open window. If he had been a man from her neighborhood, she’d have known right away what sly thing to tell him to get him to give up the flowers and what one could only presume to be chocolates in the package. But, he was new. She didn’t know if he was wealthy, a talented musician, or even very smart. It was all very exciting. As MK fixed herself to approach this man, she realized she was dressed in her work uniform. An unfashionable maroon button shirt and matching colored skirt with a little yellow trim around the hem. This boring old uniform, while not the absolute worst outfit, definitely did not inspire womanly confidence. But, what was MK to do now? She was already just a few steps from his seat, and to turn around now would make her seem like a coward, if only to herself. So she stayed the course, and stopped at the seat right in front of Mr. Valentine. As she sauntered from the aisle into her new position, MK felt the stare of several passengers. She was reaching to put her purse in the overhead compartment, and this required her to lift her arms up, which always made her uniform (which was slightly tight in the bosom and derriere) ride up. After finishing this task as quickly as possible, MK did a quick scan to see if any of the other passengers were still watching her. Everyone had already looked away, except Mr. Valentine. His gaze lingered a bit from admiring her shape up to her eyes, and the two exchanged a polite smile, his sprinkled with a touch of embarrassment. MK was now starting to recognize this smile. Polite and unassuming on the outside, but he had seen the beautiful figure and gorgeous face. Unbeknownst to him, those flowers and chocolate were as good as gone.
As MK sat down, she let out an inviting sigh, “Whew.” This was his cue to ask her any question, but he had to do the asking. He had to think this was all his idea. But, MK waited some thirty seconds, and Mr. Valentine said nothing. She then looked up at the window and quietly said to herself, “It sho’ is warm for February, that air feels good.” Now, he certainly would feel invited to start a conversation. MK just need wait for his move. And wait she did. This time longer than the eternity of the half minute she had waited before, and just as she was about to make another comment into the enormity of the bus universe, hoping for it to be reciprocated, Mr. Valentine leaned over her seat and said, “Hi, Miss, I think yur bag is gonna’ fall if we hit one more pot hole.” MK looked up to where he was pointing, and he was right, her purse was slightly hanging over the edge of the compartment. The thought of inviting all the stares of everyone on the bus to her backside as she shoved the purse back into the compartment did not inspire MK at all.
“Would you mine’ gettin’ it for me? It’s just a little too high for me to reach and you’re so tall, Mr. . . .” inquired MK in her most sweet and unassuming tone.
“Of course, not at all,” interrupted Mr. Valentine, as he jumped up and easily reached MK’s bag to hand it to her.
“Oh, why, thank you very much, Mr. Of Course? Is that your name?” asked MK with a sly smile.
“Oh no ma’am, my name is Nichols. James Nichols, but my friends call me Jimmy,” he chuckled back at MK’s wittiness.
“Jimmy Nichols, is it? Well, in my head I thought of you more as a sweet Mr. Valentine,” hinted MK in her softest and sweetest voice.
“Is that so? Oh, because of these gifts?”
“That’s right. A girl sees a handsome man board a bus with such fine lookin’ presents, you start to wonder if such generosity is in his nature, just part of his name, or if he’s in some kinda’ trouble wit’ his girlfriend.”
“Oh, I’m not in any kinda trouble. You see I just figured wit’ tomorrah’ bein’ Valentine Day, I’d like to do somethin’ nice, you know. Make someone feel special.”
“Yur girlfriend?”
“Well, umm, yeah. I mean she is a girl, obviously. An’ she is my friend. . .” his thoughts trailed. “Do you really already think I’m sweet?”
And there it was. After just a few moments of casual flirtations, MK knew Mr. Valentine was a man starved for genuine attention. His girlfriend was probably a girl, like Cynthia Cooper, who was stringing Mr. Valentine along. Cynthia Cooper was a girl MK had gone to high school with. New to their neighborhood, Cynthia felt like she was a little bit better than everyone else because she had moved from New York City and had long straight hair, that didn’t even suggest the slightest curl or wrinkle during humid weather. MK didn’t know how Cynthia’s hair stayed so straight, but she knew it made all the boys fall over themselves with admiration that a brown girl could have hair so long and straight.
“Well, she muss be pretty. Where you taking her for dinner? And of course I do, you helpt’ me out of the kindness of your heart. An’ you have such dazzlin’ gifts for this friend of yours, who of course is a girl,” MK let her thoughts wonder back to Mr. Valentine.
“It’s juss . . . thanks for sayin’ that nice thang ‘bout me. Mind if I sit witchu’ fur a while?”
“Come on up hir if you want; mah stop’s not for a good while.”
And with that Mr. Valentine moved into the seat next to MK. The two of them talked the whole time. He asked her about working at the hospital. He told her about his job right now as a teller at Knight Bank, and how he wanted to move up through the company. He had been signed up in the Army, but he was never deployed on account of his right leg being slightly longer than his left. MK sat and listened to this man talk on and on about himself. She’d almost never met a person who could talk about himself so much. But, with Mr. Valentine, she knew it wasn’t because he was self-centered; he just hadn’t had anyone to talk to in so long his little heart was just bursting at the opportunity to connect. And by the time the bus got to MK’s stop near Amanda Street, Mr. Valentine had basically begged MK to take the roses and chocolates. He was going to come around and pick her up tomorrow night, and the two of them would have a date at his expense (monetary and time-wise).
MK walked the two blocks home with her head held high and fully inspired by her own self-confidence to procure a Valentine’s Day boyfriend just one day beforehand. Even if he got home, met with his girlfriend, and decided not to call MK, she was happy that in this moment she had a date, twelve ruby red roses, a box of twenty-five cent chocolates, and the promise of knowing she could get all of this while wearing her elevator operator uniform. Grandma Josie would most certainly have accused MK of “flirtin’.”
Author Bio
Dr. Toya Mary Okonkwo is a well-wisher of humanity who utilizes the creative impulses of imagination as resistance to enact an ethos arts education as central to advancing vibrant individual and collective changes that contribute to an ever-advancing civilization. Having recently earned her Ph.D. of English (the first Black woman to graduate in the history of that program), Dr. Okonkwo has taught at Purdue, TCU, Paul Quinn College, and UNT. In her dissertation, OUR REAL LIFE PECOLAS AND OGUU CHASES THE SUN - FROM COLLAPSING STARS TO QUASARS: A COSMIC PLAY IN THREE ACTS & TWO INTERLUDES ON THE IMPORTANCE OF IGBO STORYTELLING IN EXPANDING BLACK GIRLHOOD IMAGINATIONS AS RESISTANCE TO SOCIAL ERASURE IN STOP SIX, TX., she blends the creative power of performance and visual storytelling to explore the subjects of #blackgirlmagic as it relates to astrophysics and the neurobiology of transcending the confines of trauma. In her most ardent dreams this project, along with her M.A. thesis, A Handful of Gardenias: Short Stories from My Grandmother, Mary "May" Katherine McKenzie, will be realized for audiences to experience and thereby take the reins of their own journeys towards becoming well-wishers of humanity and lovers of the beauty of our essential oneness. Dr. Okonkwo is an active volunteer with Baha’i community and collects honey native to the lands in which she travels (it makes the best tea!). Her web presence includes: https://www.toyamaryokonkwo.com/