Page 50 of Exquisite Things

our shoulders.” She breathes slowly. Attempts calm. “And I suppose—it’s made me see how different things are for all of us.

Oliver can go ahead with his plans today because the world didn’t just end for him.”

I put the marker down. I haven’t written a word yet. I take her hands in mine instead. “The world has not ended for you. You

still have us.”

“For now.”

“You have Pearl’s.”

“They’ve already stopped her from selling liquor. How long until they throw her in jail like Lily’s Uncle Alton for running

an underground bar for Black queers like me?”

I feel caught by two opposing forces. Oliver’s gloom still swirls around me like a cloud. And now Maud’s anger approaches

like a tornado. All I want is to help them both. I have no idea how.

“What should my poster say?” That’s all I can think of to ask in the moment.

Maud raises an eyebrow. “Whatever you want it to say. You’re the poetry lover. Write us a poem, yeah?”

I smile. I want to make her laugh. To change the mood. To recite the worst poem ever written. “Justice for all. Thatcher will

fall. You saw what happened at Stonewall. Now prepare for your curtain call.” She laughs. I’ve succeeded. “Now let’s have

a ball?”

“You’re such a little know-it-all.” She swats me with a marker.

“I’m not going away with Oliver. I want to join you.” I start writing words on my poster. I start with the word Never .

“Don’t do it if you’ll resent me.” Maud looks at me meaningfully. “I mean it. I don’t want you annoyed with me because you

missed your goopy romantic trip.”

“I won’t.” I add the word Going to my poster as Lily keeps knocking on Oliver’s door. He’s not letting her in. “I promise I’ll find you just as annoying

whether I go or not.”

Maud laughs. “All right then, what’s your poster going to say? Never going what?”

I write in the last word. Never Going Underground . I stare at the words, satisfied. Oliver is right that we’re hiding a piece of us. But that doesn’t mean we need to hide

the rest. I won’t let fear drive me into the darkness they prefer us in.

I spend Valentine’s Day in the streets. Chanting. Singing. Raging. Connecting. I see a plane in the air. I wonder if it’s

the one I was supposed to be on with Oliver. I feel terrible that he’s spending the day alone. We march down Railton Road.

Chants of Thirteen Dead and Nothing Said .

The protest gains steam as we forge on. The crowd grows louder as more police show up.

Someone blares the Johnny Osbourne song from a loudspeaker.

We all sing along. The whole crowd erupts into cheers when the song ends.

I wish Oliver could see how celebratory it is.

Catch the look of elation on Maud’s face as she morphs rage into action.

I wish he knew he shouldn’t be so afraid.

The protest circles the neighborhood. We end on Railton Road where we began. Thirsty from screaming and walking. Everyone

needs a drink. Lily suggests we go to Pearl’s. Maud has a more rebellious idea: “The George.” Maud says the words spitefully.

We all know we’re not welcome at the George. We’ve never dared go inside. Maud doesn’t wait for anyone to express a concern.

She marches toward the public house that houses the pub.

We find a sea of white men’s faces inside. Staring at us scornfully. Daring us to move farther.

Maud takes a seat at the bar. “I’ll have a Red Stripe.”

Lily quickly joins Maud. “What my daughter means is that she’ll have a Coca-Cola. Please. ”

The woman behind the bar narrows her eyes at our lot. Her lips are pursed. Her hair is yanked. Her body is hunched and shriveled.

“I have to serve you Black folk. But the queers will have to leave.” Her thin eyes land on me. Then on Archie. His far-too-tight

jeans. His leather cap. His white tank top with the rainbow flag that now represents our community. “Can’t call the Race Relations

Board if I refuse to serve degenerates, can you?”

Lily leans forward. Practically spits in the woman’s mouth as she speaks. “Well, my dear, I am Black AND queer, as is my daughter

Maud, so what will you do with us?”

“You the one who kept reporting Pearl to the police?” Maud can’t conceal the venom in her voice as she asks the question.

The bartender pours Maud a soda and places it in front of her. “How old are you, child? Don’t talk about things you know nothing about. These were our neighborhoods before you lot moved in.”

“We lot moved in to rebuild your country after the war.” Azalea stays calm as she speaks. “I’ve probably nursed some of your

friends back to health.”

“Job well done then.” The woman claps her bony hands together condescendingly. “We don’t need you no more. War’s been over

for a good long time. You can go home.”

“ This is home.” Lily pulls a large bill from her purse. “Sodas for everyone. Marching against bigots like you is exhausting.”

Maud glances at Lily with pride on her face. We take over the counter. A few of the men hiss at us.

One says: Go home.

Another: Perverts.

The drunk old men spread their legs like they own the world. I stare hard at the lines of cruelty on their faces. It’s not

time that has ravaged their faces. It’s hate. People who hold love in their hearts age with warmth. One man so drunk he can

barely walk stumbles toward us. Spits at the ground beneath us.

We ignore them. Maud raises her glass when our sodas arrive. “To family.” Her eyes land on me. “Especially to my brother Bram

for choosing to be here today. For not deserting me when we needed support.”

“And to Oliver.” I give Maud a pleading look. “Who loves you just as much as I do. Who stayed away because he’s afraid for

you.”

Maud nods. Accepts this. “To Oliver too, of course.” She says the next part loudly, so everyone can hear. “And to Mother England . Our country. Our home. We forgive her trespasses against us. Cheers.”