Gumbo: A Celebration of African American Writing Part 66

-I'ma smack you down in a second, b.i.t.c.h. I swear.

-You be acting too grown sometimes any old way. Get up off your knees, Ricky.

-What you talking about grown for, trying to act like you so grown, giving out orders? You ain't but two months older than me, baby. I could stay on my knees if I want to. You want to know what Daddy said?

-About what? The wedding? Everybody far way as Decatur already knows. That's all folks do round here is talk, okay? But ain't n.o.body saying nothing to your daddy's face, that's all. They could shame you and me if they wanted to.

-I ain't studying all that. And you- -You need to.

-You want to know what Daddy said?

-Told you I already knew.

-Don't be acting all grand, Miss Girl, 'cause you don't know all this. He got his gun!

-What? For what?

-You know what. Fittin to shoot off my a.s.s if I don't marry little Renee. And you know he could shoot good. He learned me. And I learned you, Lou Jay. My baby.-Reaching over to squeeze the other man's naked thigh, then moving his hand slightly above and to the center of it. Their skins, together, all of a glow in the thickening heat.

-You'll always be my baby, Lou Jay. You know that.

-Ricky- -Since we was thirteen we been playing on. I got you now, Lou. You got me. I don't never want n.o.body but you. We got us something! You think I could let you go for some little piece of- -All right, now. We ain't got no time for all that sweet talk-stop, boy, that tickles!-with some man, your daddy no less, putting a gun all up in your face. No, uh-uh. I ain't having it. Didn't I ask you to stop?

-Aw, girl, you love what my hands do. Anyway, Daddy ain't only got his gun up in my face. He got it aimed all up in my behind, too.

-Um-hmm. 'Cause he know what's been all up in there.

Laughter, until they choke. But already he is looking. Ricky, having laughed, stilled, now looking. Thinking how hard, how very very hard it is not to focus, fixate, his eyes on Lou Jay. How hard not to see, looking, just how pretty. How fine and all that, he thinks. How hard not to carry to dreams and private thrusts the big old shoulders and pretty lips and nipples, after his very own lips have traversed the skin . . . the shoulders and nipples all hard now hard-hard yet soft, like the eyes, beneath the shirt . . . when he wore a shirt. Hard not to think, Yeah, 'cause I could just take him right now, couldn't I, and do all a that and more. I could (uh huh, do all of it, that and that) get him all relaxed (the calm-down part) and whisper back behind his neck about the house they'd buy someday (or, no: I will buy. I will. For him. Ricky-for-Lou Jay. Uh-huh) in Decatur or maybe . . . that one. The one they'd fix up nice with a front yard just like everybody else's and some back land too just like everybody else's so they could live someplace far away from all those others, those others with guns and bullet eyes, those others like his own daddy. Far away from the eyes, from the Now-what-y'all-got-into-some-nasty-s.h.i.t-no-doubt pressed lips and hands on hips. Far from the sucked teeth and curling sneers. Someplace where the two of them, him-and-Lou Jay, could just settle and say, All right, now. Because this here is Lou Jay's and Ricky's house and we been up in it together going on how long now? so don't y'all ignorant motherf.u.c.kers even try no fierce s.h.i.t up in here. Uh-huh. The ones with the guns (Daddy) who could never know how it felt when that part of him that was on Lou Jay, right there, slow and silky out in the fields at night sometimes or right here in Lou Jay's room, like when after his mama and daddy are asleep and it's just him and me and is that your hand, Lou? I can't hardly tell no more. It all feels like soft sand, smooth reeds, watergra.s.s. Hot silk. All water. My face in the sand, in the soft soft reeds. Enough to know for now. Better not to know yet about (though he knows already) the curling snakes on the sh.o.r.e, the blue things that, in murky rivers, curl about ankles, drag them down to drown. Enough to know, for now, what their hotsilkiest dreams tell them: that they are here, alive, and that, right here, on this hot morning beneath the pecans and the sizzling live oaks, all snakes are in their holes, all blue things uneasily at rest. Here, where, whatever else might be known or feared, each can be certain, remembering warm sand and siltyslim reeds, that the other will always be his and his. Lucky, he thinks, or something. And I'ma make sure we stay lucky. But says: -I swear, Lou, it's like we was living in- -You need to tell me what Daddy Malcolm said. You ain't tell me everything.-Reaching over to the bedside table for a cigarette.

-Well- -Go on.

-All right. He said-get this, now, this's Daddy-he said, "Boy, if you don't marry Renee I'll blow your head off myself. You will marry her," he said. Sounding all white. Daddy!

-Lord Jesus. He got to know about me.-Blowing out a thick smoke stream.

-He do. What you think? He been knowing. Why the h.e.l.l else you think he been pushing me all up in Renee's face?- Looking out into the June sunlight. Turning his face to the day and noticing how the air is free, humid; how bugs are chattering between birdsong.

-I don't want to marry that girl, Lou.

-Why you so sure she want to marry you? She must have something to say. It ain't like you the only one out here seen her. And no matter what folks say I don't think she stupid. We know Renee.

-Well, she don't know nothing about us.

-She don't know nothing about us cause we ain't never done nothing in her face and we watched that anyway. Daddy Malcolm, now, that's a different story. He always did look at me funny. I ain't messing with that.

-Evil, you mean. You got that right. He thinks you switch. Plus you ain't never had no girlfriend.

-Ain't never wanted none.

-You should've, Lou Jay. You coulda saved us a whole lotta trouble that way. Maybe Daddy wouldn't be breathing all down my neck now if you did.

Lou Jay smoked for a while in silence, then turned his face to the freedom of the day and the birds singing and the trees looking so peaceful, quiet, beneath the bright wheeling sun.

-Can't n.o.body make me to nothing I don't want to, Ricky. Not even Daddy Malcolm.-Not quite believing his own words, but they sounded brave.-Anyway, answer my question. Why you so sure she want to marry- -She do. Lou Jay, she do. You know Renee always liked me! Anyway her mama said she better and Renee ain't gone hardly go against her mama.

-She can't-she can't do nothing to get rid- -h.e.l.l, no, Lou Jay! What you saying? If she even opened up her mouth to say something like that Miss Gaines would kill her with the switch before she could even say jump up. And Daddy-I don't even want think about what Daddy would do. Besides, we ain't got all that kinda money. I don't even know where we could get one. We ain't never known n.o.body who did that.

-Far as we know.

-Far enough.

-G.o.dd.a.m.n! Her mama, your daddy . . . - Falling silent once more. Turning his eyes down to Ricky's hands at rest between them on the sheet.

-I just don't see that y'all got much choice now. You know Daddy Malcolm ain't playing. I think he would rather see you dead. He don't want him no sissy son no matter what. And Renee gone have you a kid. You gone be a daddy.-Pausing. Those eyes raised again to Ricky's face.

-How could y'all do that? Practically right in my face.

-Lou Jay- -You wasn't even thinking about us when you did that, Ricky. You wasn't thinking about Renee, neither. No you wasn't. And all this time you and me been making plans and whatnot. Talking s.h.i.t. And now you gone come back in my face telling me you love me and how we gone do so much.

-Baby- -I shoulda-I . . . that was just stupid, that's all. Don't look at me all innocent! Y'all was wrong. You was wrong-I can't really say too much against Renee. And I know you know y'all was wrong.-Pausing once more. Taking in the tender curve of the neck, eyelashes.

-I know you know, Rick.

-But I told you- -You just wanted to see what it felt like? It ain't all that different. I coulda told you that.

-No, you couldn't.

-Well, maybe not.-Sucking on the cigarette.-But that don't change nothing. And now you gone have you a wife and a kid. I'll be d.a.m.ned. Ain't that something!

-Don't take the Lord's name- -I didn't.-Smoking some more. Frowning.

-Lou Jay.

-What?

-You don't understand . . .

-What . . . what don't I understand? Tell me! Since you got all the answers.

-Just . . . d.a.m.n, Lou Jay! She don't mean nothing to me. She ain't-she ain't s.h.i.t.

-I told you to get your hands off me. Oh, so now she ain't s.h.i.t, huh? That's nice. Real nice, baby. You the one, I tell you.

-What you mean?

-She our friend, you dumb mother-Jesus! We all growed up together, you and me and Miss Girl, fool! That oughta mean something. Like more than just she ain't s.h.i.t. I got to say I feel kinda sorry for her, laying up in bed with somebody she don't even know don't want her a.s.s cept for what she got tween her legs.-Still watching Ricky, of course still watching him. Feeling the sadness rising up in him again, in that place, like the peepers' dying sundown calls: there, right at the edge of the sh.o.r.e, where most of the time he feels, deep inside, only Ricky. Then gathering all of it, the dusk and the sh.o.r.e, as they rise out of him, hover between them, joined by that lonely something else of lowered eyes, as Ricky moves closer to him on the bed. Putting first one hand, then another, on those big old shoulders. As Lou Jay rests his cheek on one of the hands. Closes his eyes.

-You know what the worse part is, Lou?

-What?

-It's like now-now I feel like- -Yeah?

-Like I hate her. Renee.-Whispered.

-Like-like I ain't never hate n.o.body in my life-not no girl, and- The eyes, opened.

-I know, I know. Don't look at me like that, Lou Jay! You know what- -What you saying?

-I-I don't know. I don't know why cept I know I been laying up in bed at night thinking about how much I- Lou Jay looking at him.

- . . . how I hate that girl now, Lou. Can't even stand to look in her face no more. That- Lou Jay looking at him.

-Don't look at me like that, Lou Jay! I can't- -I guess you want me to say something.

-I can't- -What you going on hating her for? She ain't done nothing to you. Last time I heard takes two to make a baby. And she settin up in that house knowing she gone have you a kid and her mama looking at her all cross-eyed and you settin up here talking about some you hate her. What you doing hating folks?

-You don't like her neither.

-I don't like what y'all did but I don't hate n.o.body. I hope.

-She so proud, walking around telling everybody, "Yup, we getting married!" Just yesterday she was up the road telling folks, "He so fine, wait til y'all see him in his wedding suit."

-Well, you are.-Very quietly. But I swear to G.o.d I won't never tell you that too many times, he thinks, 'cause you just too hardheaded for words.

-Uh-huh. But just watch me wear some tennis shoes to the church.

The other silent.

-Why can't we go away, Lou? Up to New York-even Atlanta! What I'ma do, married to some- -What you did the night you got you a baby.

-Lou Jay- -You do what you got to do. Like I'm going on to college. U.A.'s waiting.

-You really gone do that, Lou? Go on and leave me here with her and Daddy?

-You left me.

-I didn't! Listen, Lou. Listen to me. Whyn't you leave Alabama for school so we could go away? I could work.

-And get Daddy Malcolm up on my a.s.s to come on and shoot me dead. Uh-uh. No, thank you.

-Coward.

-No. See, now, listen. Try I don't want your mess all up in my business, f.u.c.king with my s.h.i.t again. Try that.

-Oh, b.i.t.c.h- -No, baby, no. We ain't gone have that, now. Didn't I tell you how long ago now to go on and get dressed? You gone stick around here all day, when you getting married in-what is it now-twenty-two hours? Besides, Mama and Daddy'll be back in a few.

-Where they went to?

-Probably out with your daddy, looking for your a.s.s. You need to go on home.

-They know what we was doing last night?

-When did we ever tell em? Do they know. Do they know.- The disgust in his face and voice cruel enough to slash cane. Hiding from the slash or seeking to conjure the face of the water and the reeds, Ricky put his own face in his hands.

-So I'm just gone ruin my life, and you ain't gone do s.h.i.t to help.- From between fingers.

-Help you ruin your life? You don't need no help. Gimme one a your cigarettes.

-I ain't got but two left. You don't even care, do you? b.i.t.c.h?

-Excuse me? Ain't n.o.body your b.i.t.c.h up in here. I got to buy me some.

-I said, you don't even care, do you?

-I heard you. What you expect? You want me to drop dead?

-Whyn't you try? Ricky said, but the laughter returned. Later, Lou Jay would remember that just then he had noticed neither the glimmer in Ricky's eye nor its presaging the speed that followed as, with the barest shifting of a thigh, Ricky leaped onto Lou Jay's chest and farted loudly and squarely on the most sacred spot, just below the neck. A way of possessing it, the victor knows; the surest way of leaving behind his most private smell where before only the mouth and skin had been. Then feeling the strong hands attempting to push him off, but the feeling of those fingers about his hips once more, even in protest, nothing compared to the victim's grimace and the victor's delight.

-Now see if I give a f.u.c.k about some Renee, Ricky said, purring-for, like many, the foul gifts of his own innards entranced him.

-Well, thank you, you nasty- -Aw, you love it, honey.

-Take your hand off me.

-Lou- -Come on.

Ricky moving lower over him, then closer.

-Let's just run away.- Whispered.

-Aw, s.h.i.t. Here we go again. I swear- -You could cook. Make me chicken in dressing. Pear preserves and biscuits. In our own house. You could cook, Lou Jay.

-I know I can.- The beautiful smile at last emerging in full.-Did I or did I not ask you for a cigarette?

A reach over to the table, a cigarette pulled from the pack. Lit, then placed, ever so gently, into that mouth.

-See, Lou, I could light your cigarettes for you.

-Uh-huh.

-We could get married.

-Boys don't get married. To each other.

-You need to look at the news, girl. Boys be marrying each other up in Oregon- -I ain't moving to no Oregon. And if it's boys marrying each other, you know it's white boys.

-Or in California where it don't matter. Where don't n.o.body know n.o.body.