Gumbo: A Celebration of African American Writing Part 46

It was cool out even though it was August. Soon as we went around back, I could smell him. I don't know why I ain't smell him inside. But out in the dark quiet he smelled like smoke. Me and him went up this little hill into these trees and he took off his jacket for me to sit on. I don't even remember what we talked about, because we only talked a couple minutes. I know he never did say again that he liked me. I would've remembered that. He never said I was pretty or nothing before he kissed me right in the mouth. It wasn't like I never kissed a boy before. I did kiss this Puerto Rican boy two times around Eboni house and let him touch me outside my clothes. But when he was kissing me that night, I ain't like it. His mouth tasted real nasty. I tasted dirt before, when I was little, and his mouth tasted worse than dirt. I guess his mouth was like that from smoking. Like some nasty little animal had done crawled inside his mouth and built a nest.

All the while he steady kissing me and I'm steady trying not to breathe. Trying not to swallow so I wouldn't taste him while he was laying me back to the cold ground. I pulled my mouth away and say, Get on up off me. I don't know what you trying to do.

He say, What you want me to do. And he steady pushing me down harder. I could feel it then. His thing. It was pressing up inside my legs. All hard and mad inside his jeans. I tried to sit up. But he pressed his whole weight on me, squashing my t.i.tties so hard they hurt.

Hey, I screamed, leave me alone! Get up off of me! He put one of his big hands across my nose and mouth. I was screaming and kicking and trying to peel his hand off. But my screams wasn't doing no good. They was so tiny they never even escaped the trees. That's all I could hear, even though that boy talking to me real low with his face right in mine.

I don't know how many times he say, I got a knife. I got a knife. Before I heard it. But when I heard that, I stopped trying to scream. I stopped trying to fight.

Then he say, If I got to show it to you, I'm going to have to use it on you. Now shut up, you fat b.i.t.c.h, and take down your f.u.c.king pants. I had already shut up. He took his hand off my face and raised up off of me some. But I ain't move. So he pulled at my sweat pants. That's when I started helping him, because I was thinking he going to tear them, and how was I going to explain that to Mama?

It was the both of us that got them halfway down when he say for me to turn over and get on my knees. He raised up some more to let me turn over and I could see the lights of the Skate-A-Rama coming through the tops of the trees. When I turned over, he pushed my head down to the ground and I couldn't see nothing no more. I ain't hear nothing until he pushed his naked self up against me and started doing it. And my hands grabbed for something to hold.

Hanging on to the gra.s.s, I swear I could hear them screams of mine quieter and quieter sinking into the ground. All the time I'm thinking, This ain't real. This got to be a dream. Not my dream. His dream. He done thought this all up in his mind. Had this all up in his mind. When I was thinking about him liking me, he was thinking about this. I'm all embarra.s.sed with my b.u.t.t all tooted up in the air and him sticking his thing in me harder and harder. Faster and faster. It seem like to me his thing was a knife. Mad with me. Cutting me. My insides was burning a little bit more. A little bit more. A little bit more. I couldn't stop my knees from shaking, and I was holding my breath in me to stop the pain.

He put his face right up next to mine and his breath come right in my ear. It was so strong I could taste it in my mouth. You know you like it, you stupid c.u.n.t, he say. Tell me you like it. Tell me to f.u.c.k you some more.

I ain't say nothing. He grabbed me by the hair. My breath come out in a moan.

He say, Yeah, that's right. That's right. He pushed my face back to the ground and got up off me. You can tell anybody you want, he say. I don't give a G.o.dd.a.m.n. Ain't n.o.body going to believe your dumb a.s.s no way. He yanked his jacket up from under me. I heard him take off out them trees.

It was a while before I even moved. I don't know how long I stayed just like he left me, still burning inside. When I figured he was gone, really gone, I rolled over on my side and touched myself quick down there to see if I was bleeding. I was all wet. I ain't know if it was blood. The night was so dark, even with the yellow lights shining above me in the leaves. So I pulled my pants up and brushed myself off. My knees wouldn't stop shaking. But I got up. I ain't even went back in the Skate-A-Rama. I ain't even went back through the parking lot the way I came. I was shamed. I went around the other side and waited for the bus home. Spitting. Spitting. Spitting all the time I was waiting.

Mama was sitting on the couch when I got home. Watching TV with the lights out. She ain't even look up when I come in. It was a Friday night and she like to watch a cop show that come on. Mama say, Lock the door behind you. Which I did, and went right straight upstairs into the bathroom and pulled down my pants and panties. There wasn't no whole bunch of blood like I was expecting to see. Only a little spot, already turning dark like a old penny. That made me feel better. Like things wasn't so bad. Like I wasn't going to have to tell Mama about it because it was just a bad dream anyway.

I took me a shower and brushed my teeth with the water running all over me. I kept brushing them and brushing them, squirting out long white worms of toothpaste until my mouth tasted fresh and clean like mouths be on commercials. Like mint. Then I washed myself. I ain't even want to touch myself down there in my private parts. But I squatted down, with my knees still shaking, and washed off real gentle but real good two times. I wasn't burning like I was before.

When I laid down in bed that night, with the moon shining through the tree outside my window, with the moon shining down on me, I wanted to get up and go downstairs and tell Mama. I should have told her right then. I was so shamed. Even though my mouth was clean, seem like when I just thought of that boy, I got that nasty taste in my mouth again, and I wiped off my tongue with the back of my hand. I ain't want Mama to think it was me that was the nasty one. But I wanted her to come to me in my room that night because I was quiet. Because I had come in and gone straight upstairs. Which I never did. Showered without being told and got right into bed with no radio playing. No light on. No nothing. How come Mama ain't know that wasn't even me acting like that? What was she thinking about if she wasn't thinking about me? Royster, the Jherri Curl King?

When I was a little girl, if I was out of her sight and quiet for a minute, it seem like Mama would come to me. I would look up to see her face over me. Full and shining like the moon. Mama would watch me until she was satisfied I was all right and then she would slip away quiet. Quiet as the setting of the moon. I wouldn't even know she was gone until I looked up and seen she wasn't there.

I hid in the dark of my room that night like I was some little girl too shamed to tell on myself for doing something so stupid. Mama always been the one thinking I'm so smart. I'm so special. That I'm the one who has got a brain that's going to take me somewhere in my life. Maybe Mama think I got a brain that will take her somewhere too one day. Put her in a fine house. But that night I wasn't none of the things Mama say about me. I was what he say I was. All them nasty words he called me. Words Mama never would let me put in my mouth to say. Fat b.i.t.c.h. Stupid c.u.n.t. How I was going to open my mouth and say them words? Just thinking about them set me off crying. Not like I was crazy. I ain't make nam sound. And why ain't Mama come? She could've pushed the door to my room open and when the light of the hall fell on me she would've seen my face. Telling her what my two lips couldn't.

But Mama ain't come to me that night, and after then it was just easier to keep my mouth shut and let Mama think I was good and not nasty. So I opened up this place inside to leave everything he done and said to me. Not like it never happened. Because it did happen. But I found a place where I could close it off, and I really did think like some child, like some girl, like some fool, I wasn't never going to have to go inside it again.

After seeing him in the cafeteria, I knew that wasn't true. No matter how it looked to anybody, for the next two days after I seen him, I went back to that place. I was in it each night, curled up inside like some big old baby waiting to be born.

Instead of going to school, I went to Eboni's. Miss Lovey was home, looking after her state kids. She ain't say nothing to me about nothing when me and Imani went back in Eboni room and stayed until the tutor left. She ain't ask why I was there. I knew Eboni had told her. But I knew she wouldn't say nothing to my mama. Out in the kitchen, she made me one of her big meals. I could smell a chicken baking, greens boiling away with vinegar and hot pepper. Yams roasting with they sweet juice dripping in the stove. My stomach was making all kinds of noise just smelling how good that food was going to taste. But when it came time to eat it, I really ain't had no appet.i.te.

I sat down with Eboni and Miss Lovey and them state kids in the kitchen. Miss Lovey made her and the oldest state kid a plate. He about three and he don't eat so much. His mama was on crack when she had him. Miss Lovey get WIC and food stamps. She be getting government cheese and b.u.t.ter, and he still so skinny he look like he could fall over if you blow on him. All he was eating was a teaspoon of food. Eboni, shoot, she was eating like food was going out of style at the end of the day. I ate me a plate just to be polite to Miss Lovey.

I went around Eboni house the next day, too, but on the third day Eboni wasn't there. Miss Lovey was all out of breath and sweating when she come to the door. She say, Come on in the kitchen. And I went. Miss Lovey was making grits and frying up some fish. She say, Eboni had her girls early this morning. I'm telling you, it was a easy labor. They were a minute apart. It seems like they were racing to get in the world. They're both healthy thank G.o.d and so pretty with good hair swirled around their heads. I say, Oooh, I want to go see her and the babies. Miss Lovey say, I'm sure Eboni wants to see you, too. You can leave Imani next door where I left the kids and we can go up to the hospital later. She made herself a plate and one for me.

I say, I ain't really hungry. I already ate.

Miss Lovey wasn't even stutting me. She opened up the stove and took out a pan of biscuits and put two on my plate. For a while she ain't say nothing. She ate. Sprinkling hot sauce on her fish. Slurping from a big cup of juice. Putting jelly and b.u.t.ter on her biscuits. I cracked open one of them hot biscuits and b.u.t.tered and jellied it for Imani, who was sitting in her stroller whining because she knew there was food but wasn't none of it coming to her mouth. I fed some to her and tasted it for myself. It was good. I could tell it wasn't from no can popped open on the counter. Then I looked up at Miss Lovey and stopped eating. She had that I-know-you-got-a-secret look on her face. Right then I knew Eboni must have told.

You know, Miss Lovey say, I been meaning to talk to you.

I cut her right off. Not in a mean way. But I say, I know what you fenna say, Miss Lovey.

Miss Lovey say, Is that so? If you know what I'm going to say, you need to be on one of those psychic telephones making some money for yourself, child.

I bust out laughing, even though I ain't want to.

Miss Lovey put one of her hands on top of one of mines. It was warm and soft.

She say, Child, you have to go back to school. Shooting the hook won't solve your problems.

I say, I know that, Miss Lovey.

She say, You don't act like it. I know you're scared of that boy who raped you.

I looked down at the table. That was the first time that word been said.

Then Miss Lovey said it again. She say, I believe he did rape you.

I ain't say nothing. Miss Lovey reached over with her other hand and started rubbing my back. Round and round in circles like you rub a baby back to get them to sleep. Like I rub Imani. She say, It's all right to talk to me about it.

I couldn't say nothing. I just found my hand that was on the table squeezing her hand tight tight. Miss Lovey ain't ask me to say nothing else. She moved up close to me and put my head down on her shoulder and kept rubbing my back with her hand all warm. Pulling me back from inside myself. She was pulling me back every time she made a circle. Made a circle. Made a circle. It was like she was looking for the place I was. Reaching down inside that cold dark with her warm hand. Picking me up from that ground. Pulling me out into the world where I opened my eyes into the soft light.

It was a while before I lifted up my face. When Imani saw it she started crying. Miss Lovey picked her up and put her on her lap to rock her. She fed some grits to Imani right off her plate. Miss Lovey say, Go back to Lincoln on Monday and see how you feel. If you want to get out, I'll help you.

I say, Only my mama can do that.

Miss Lovey say, I'll talk to your mother then.

I just shook my head.

Miss Lovey say, I won't tell her nothing you haven't. It's up to you to tell her about the rape. She needs to hear that from your lips. But you need to be in school. What kind of future can you make for this child with no education? I looked at my little greedy baby and she put out her arms to come to me and I took her in my arms. I was holding her all close feeling her heart beating up next to mines. Miss Lovey say for me not be worrying about going to another school. She say I would only have to cross that bridge if I come to it.

I made myself go back to Lincoln the next Monday. I was real nervous. About running into him. But I had so much schoolwork to catch up on, I spent most of my time with my mind on that. In the cafeteria I was looking for him and not looking for him, thinking maybe I wouldn't have to come to that bridge at all. It was the middle of the week before I seen him. Me and Coco was sitting together at lunch. I wasn't hardly eating. I was studying for a Latin test. When the bell rung we was rushing to take our trays up. That's when I seen him, just ahead of us at the dish room, putting his dirty tray on the belt. There I was at the bridge. I wasn't even thinking about crossing it. I wanted to jump off. Kids was pushing up behind me to take they trays back. My feet took on a mind of they own and ain't even move when he turned around to leave.

Coco stepped up right next to me and took my tray. What's wrong with you, Tasha? she asked. Making us late?

That boy looked up then. I got a pain in my stomach, thinking he heard my name. But he ain't even look at me. He was looking at Coco. Smiling at her. She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes at him, and the smile he had on his face slid right off. He walked off without saying nothing.

I seen him the next day in the cafeteria, and he walked right on by me without noticing me. I knew I wasn't going to cross no bridge after all. I could feel it in my heart that he ain't know who I was. I was some girl with no name. I was some girl with no face. I was just some girl in a dream he ain't even remember.

FROM Rails Under My Back.

BY JEFFREY RENARD ALLAN.

Sunlight aroused Jesus from sleep. He pushed himself upright on the couch, and sat there, groggy, trying to clear his head against the growing hum of morning traffic.

d.a.m.n! His flesh luminous with heat. His feet cold. He looked down at them. No shoes. He could see No Face, fuzzy, cloudy, dim. No Face! he screamed.

No Face's black eye patch glowed like the barrel hole of a fired gun. I be dog. We fell asleep.

n.i.g.g.a, what the f.u.c.k!

Some powerful s.h.i.t. No Face's head hung suspended between his knees, a heavy balloon.

Every inch of Jesus's skin was alive, seeing, watching himself move in a dream. b.i.t.c.h, what did you put in that weed? Jesus grabbed No Face by his collar and jerked him to his feet.

Nuthin. Somebody had stuck a red moon and a black moon in his face where the eyes should be. I told you I- You can get hurt like that, seriously hurt. Hardly getting the words out, throat clogged with hate, each word anger-clotted.

But- Jesus shoved him back on the couch. The sunlight scorched Jesus's socked-but-shoeless feet. Where my G.o.dd.a.m.n shoes? Once again he s.n.a.t.c.hed No Face up from the couch.

No Face pointed. Red color began to bleed from his eye. He adjusted his black patch. Over there. By the couch. Jesus pushed No Face down like crumbs off of a table. Mamma musta put them over there while- Jesus quickly shoved his warm shoes on his feet. I ain't never heard of no Buddha making n.o.body sleep like that. Pa.s.s out. He checked his pockets. Found everything in order. I mean, it's tomorrow already. I mean. He sat down on the couch.

The pipe on the coffee table had been cleaned of ashes.

I be dog.

Where'd you get that s.h.i.t?

From Keylo. He musta gave me some of that crazy s.h.i.t. Whacked. n.i.g.g.a always be jokin around.

You lucky I don't . . . Jesus rested the words.

It's cool, No Face said. We're cool. Hey, you wanna watch some TV?

No.

We can watch some.

b.i.t.c.h, do it look like I watch TV?

No Face studied the words, magnified them under the lens of his one eye. Well, what you wanna do?

Jesus felt a hole in his stomach, growing and spreading. His hands ran an orbit around his belly. Got anything to eat?

Sure.

He followed No Face to the refrigerator. Watched him open it. Almost threw up when he saw old cooking grease inside a mason jar, brown and gray like a rotting limb.

See anything you want? If you don't, we go down to Mamma Henry's house. She keep our meat in her freezer. And Mamma- I know, Jesus said. I can't wait.

They took out some leftover meat loaf and ate it cold and fast, then drank milk, right from the gallon jug, sharing swigs until the plastic container was whistle-empty.

You can take a shower. No Face's anxious eye watched Jesus. I got some clothes you can wear. We go shoot some hoop.

Jesus looked at him. You lucky to be alive.

No Face directed his good eye somewhere else.

Real lucky.

Look. The eye returned. I got some of my own s.h.i.t.

I don't wanna try no mo of yo s.h.i.t. I mean- You don't know me from Adam. I told you, that wasn't mine. Keylo gave me that. Look, I'll take you to my kitty so we can smoke us some real- Nawl. I don't wanna smoke no mo.

Cool.

You lucky to be alive.

We can pick up some oysters.

What?

Oysters. Wit hot sauce.

That's what you like?

That's what I like.

Funny. Spokesman used to eat that.

Who?

Never mind. Jus somebody from back in the day. You don't know him.

So why- It's cool. You can eat. I'll watch.

I ain't hungry. Let's shoot some hoop.

Some hoop?

Yeah, you know. No Face curved his wrist in a mock shot.

Well- What's wrong? You don't want to?

I don't care. I'll whup yo a.s.s in a game or two.

Follow me.

They squeezed through a narrow neck of doorway, then hurried to the elevator, which began to lower like a rusty bucket. The walls came rushing in and Jesus had to fight the urge to extend his arms in defense. The elevator opened into a dark vestibule. No Face miscalculated the height of the vestibule step and tripped out into the day. Jesus blinked forth upon the sky.

Hey, boys. Give you five dollars if you can tell me what kind of bird this is. The words emerged from pitch blackness, a dark niche cut deep in the building's brick. A face, then a body-blue overalls with dirty suspenders, parachute straps-pushed into the light, fist holding the groin. A janitor, Jesus thought. He's a janitor, cleaning up after this n.i.g.g.a trash. He saw Jesus looking at him. Flicked his tongue fast and dirty.

d.a.m.n, No Face said. You see that? He a stone-cold freak.