“Designed to make a man’s marriage fall apart, huh, Loretta?” I said.
“You heard me, handsome man. I’ve learned a lot from my gals on the island. They run this country, boy. Once you are given the pati gason hex, your natural word twisting gets worse, then turns to flat out compulsive lying, then, dare I say, turns to rampant cheating. The wife then has no choice but to leave the bastard for a new, faithful man. Do you have anything to add, my dear sister, Dorene?”
The two clinked glasses.
“Only that the final stage of the curse, which happens even after the man is left alone and without family, is that a significant body part of his begins to decay and eventually fall off.”
“Oh God!” Bobby and I said in unison.
They both inhaled and looked at each other, giggling, obviously inebriated in the most endearing way.
“Touché!” I said, picking up the bottle of wine.
“Yes,” said Bobby. “Touché!”
I began refilling all of our glasses while the three of them lit a new smoke.
“Don’t ever twist her words again, Bobby,” I said.
“Oh, believe me,” he said, playfully nodding, “I’ll try not to.”
“Good,” said Dorene.
“But if I fail and do, may these splendid little digs at our maleness continue aboard your father’s yacht next week.”
“They shall,” she said, the two of them kissing.
“Wait,” I said, “we’re not traveling on—”
“No!” said Bobby, excitedly. “Change of plans. The new agenda is for the yacht to pick us up at Cap-Haïtien around noon on the fourteenth. From there we will steam to Miami, then up the east coast to Nantucket, where we’ll spend four days at her parents’ estate.”
“Oh my gosh!” said Loretta. “This sounds absolutely fantastic.”
“It is a treat of all treats,” said Bobby. “Believe me. Dorene doesn’t mind my boyish excitement when it comes to traveling on the Trumpet. The first time I stepped aboard the ninety-six-footer, I ran around it like a child who’d stumbled upon Neverland. It is a pristine ship.”
“And I really want to make this special for the four children,” said Dorene, looking at Loretta. “Let’s let them each have their own room.”
“Well… okay!” said Loretta, surprised at all of it.
“We will depart for France from New York City aboard the Ile de France,” said Bobby. From Le Havre we’ll board the train to Moscow. Then our work begins, Prescott. It will be time for you to break out those Russian words for real.”
“I still can’t believe your acumen for languages, Prescott,” said Dorene. “To say you are indispensable is not enough. Have you thanked him every day, Bobby?”
“Of course. But it’s not just translating. I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with Ambassador Bullitt yet. He’s, of course, already been posted at Spaso House, but it sounds as if there are a myriad of technical problems with the house, and once Bullitt learns of Prescott’s engineering skills, he’ll likely be inclined to put him on a personal service contract as a technical consultant.”
“But then how will you survive the city without your right-hand man, dear?” said Dorene.
Bobby turned to her. “Maybe you can learn Russian and take his place.”
“I just may.”
“I’m actually looking forward,” I said, “to seeing if we coloreds are indeed treated as well in the Soviet Union as so many have claimed. According to an old friend of mine, Claude McKay, he damn near forgot his skin was black while there. Du Bois has called their social experiment promising. Maybe I can bottle it and take it to America. Could it be that we and our children might find it a country that can offer us something altogether new?”
“Not even Paris offered us that,” said Loretta. “Almost! But not one hundred percent!”
“No!” I said. “And we want our children to feel equal one hundred percent of the time. Not sixty or even seventy percent of the time! Not only in certain sections of certain towns! Am I being greedy?”
“Of course not!” said Dorene.
“There were times in Paris,” said Loretta, “when we ventured out of our little community and I felt less than, or like I had wandered into the wrong place. And it was always, in some less than straightforward way, made clear to me by somebody that I should have known better.”
“Really?” said Dorene. “Even in Paris, Loretta?”
“Yes. Only in certain areas, but… there were times.”
“But make no mistake,” I said, “it pales in comparison to the systematic horror that exists in the U.S.”
Bobby shook his head. “I was born in the wrong era for a white man, because for the life of me, I’ve never been able to wrap my head around racism. I truly haven’t once, since the four of us have been sitting here enjoying one another, thought about the fact that you two have darker skin. I can only hope, as I set about my quest to become an ambassador, that President Roosevelt has an ounce of this same feeling in his bones.”
Dorene seemed concerned. “Well, I know that the first lady has those sentiments personally. And if the president cannot get all the way there politically, well, then, shame on him. The United States of America can never consider itself whole and just until absolute social equality is felt by every single one of its citizens.”
“Can I ask why you didn’t run for president?” I said.
“Because I’m a woman. And as farfetched as this may sound, I believe a black man will become president of the U.S. before a woman does. But women’s rights is certainly an issue the first lady is championing. We live in a time where real social change is on the horizon. At least I choose to believe that.”
“You’re so decent,” I said. “Both you and Bobby are rare. You spoke earlier, Dorene, about my acumen for languages. Part of the reason I’m obsessed with languages is—”
“You’re obsessed with everything,” said Bobby. “And in a good way. Prescott doesn’t like when I go here, darling, because he doesn’t like to toot his own horn, but he knows a lot about literature, art, geology, cooking, sport, opera, theater, geography, history, and, of course, politics.”
“A real renaissance man,” said Dorene. “And you’re an engineer.”
“I want my entire life to be a renaissance… a revival of learning, a renewal of spirit, of vigor.”
“Oh,” said Loretta, “let us not leave out his interest in fashion and horticulture.”
“Horticulture!” said Bobby with a look of bewilderment while Loretta nodded.
“There’s a simple reason for all of this,” I said. “When you’re a Negro in this world, it is certainly in your best interest to be a jack-of-all-trades. And I try to be at least a master of a few. I think of that Negro of yesteryear… or of today. When he is constantly told by the powers that be that he is basically nobody and hasn’t the right to do anything… he spends a lifetime trying to prove that he is somebody, and that he can perhaps do everything.”
I sipped and watched the three of them smoke. I felt that I could say anything around the Ellingtons. I was completely at ease.
“I think it’s a subconscious thing, though,” I said. “I’m not actively trying to prove anything to myself or anybody. But you grow up hearing stories about ancestors, slave stories, and then you feel a lot of this racism yourself, and even though you’ve accomplished a lot in the way of education, you’re aware that the general consensus is that your type is nothing. Such ignorance breeds a burning desire in you to try to soak up every single thing this world has to offer that is free. Learning is free.”