Gumbo: A Celebration of African American Writing Part 67

-f.u.c.k that bulls.h.i.t. U.A. U.A. You got it? September, now!

-Why you acting like-d.a.m.n, hold still, boy! Can't I even get me a kiss? What you scrunching up your mouth all stupid for?

-You got your kisses from Miss Renee.

-Lou Jay-G.o.dd.a.m.n!-I told you- -Speak the truth and shame the devil. Now! Tell your Daddy I said that.

Ricky silent. Watching those lips move over the cigarette.

-It ain't even like that, Lou.-Very quietly.-You know I just- -It's time for you to go. Now I ain't- -I'm serious. You think I'm playing?

-I'ma say one more time- -Just one kiss, baby. Please? Then I'll go on. Please? Open up.

This is one hardheaded fool, the other thinks, the kind that sooner or later- -Don't you love me, Lou Jay?

A look at those eyes, asking; a look away. And now Lou Jay, lying on his back, feeling what's on the way, doesn't have to say anything, not a word or even a tune, because it's all there-yes, right there beneath the watcher's curling lashes that match his own, there in the neck's curve, where the veins are exposed, where the look is hot silk, where you can't even hardly stop it cause you are -What you doing, Rick?-But all at once his voice is all water.

-Get up offa me, he says, but how the silt of the smooth river glides, glides across his moving sand.

-You can't say nothing now, Ricky says, sucking air where there is none.

-Get your hand out from all up under me, Lou Jay whispers, but how the waters have already parted, a circle of ripples pushing gently where the weeds are thickest.

-Ain't n.o.body gone be back for a while, neither, Ricky says, wetting his face where it is warm.

-See if I marry that girl.-Straining the weeds, the soft gra.s.ses, through his teeth.

You will if your daddy makes you, Lou Jay thinks, running his fingers up and down, up and down a single blade.

The bugs, still conversing. The jaybirds, over the water, darting. Everywhere blue, black to blue, blueblue.

Renee will be there soon. Lou Jay, remembering. But moving now faster against the weeds, pushing more deeply into the sand, up to his buckling knees, until the entire river, its source and moan, rises and swells, swells and flows, wetting his sand, soaking his weeds. Filling every s.p.a.ce of that warmth in his open throat.

-A beautiful dress,-she was saying. The three of them walking out along the Stone Bridge Road that led down the long hill to the Creek Meadow valley just outside of town. And she was pretty, Lou Jay had to admit-the type who surprised you with that devil in her that came out when you least expected it. And when you most expected it because it didn't. The Gaines' least favorite girl, folks in town said, who from the looks of things spent half her time daydreaming and should have been quicker than she apparently was considering she was Elvira Gaines' girl, since you could see Elvira had known quick enough to get Renee off her hands and into Ricky's, whose daddy owned not only twenty acres here in town but fifty more too up around Decatur and his own house and business and had those seven boys, six of whom had already come close to doing the same. Nice girl, everybody said, but looked simple sometimes, too, like them Birthwright brothers up on the hill who fooled away the day playing with cats and whatnot-the kind who ought to see things she needed to and didn't, things that sure enough, please, Jesus! didn't bear mentioning. But then others said no, not simple just innocent-who wouldn't be, by force or His holy reckoning, raised under Elvira's switch? A few to whom almost n.o.body listened said naw, that girl was deep if you just looked. And-who knows?-maybe with that fury (the source of which they'd quickly forgotten or had never known) that in ever-shifting forms still took nightly and daily aim against them even as they slept, and which now firmly in their grip propelled them to devote the meaner, smaller parts of themselves to caring too much about some things, like the image of two boys pressing hands to each other's bellies in the slow velvet dance of a kiss-maybe with that same fury that moved them to cut their eyes and storm over policemen's bullets and marauding church fires in their midst, they'd never bothered to look very deeply into the most quiet part of that girl's eyes-or not far, anyway, beyond so many guesses as to the eventual worth of that girl and her kind as sweet fast pieces. Her gaze darker, deeper than ever today. Skin shining in the heat, hair permed and tied back in just that way that made so many of the other boys in town think nothing of going right up in her face to whoo-zop a little of the Bird they hadn't known they'd owned, za-bazz out some of the 'Trane they'd not suspected still seared in their veins, and say Miss Renee, hey, hey! All right, girl. 'Cause, well, uh huh. So, why don't you. And. Not that she couldn't handle them, Lou Jay thought. And Daddy Malcolm too had welcomed her into the Malcolms' with wide-open arms (a little too open, some said) because he'd always loved her anyway (a little too much, some also said)-like the daughter I ain't got, he'd said more than six times, and loved her even more these days, some folks murmured, now that she was marrying his baby son. Everybody swears Miss Renee got herself a man, Lou Jay thought, but I had him first, y'all, in places y'all couldn't even dream of. Shocked at how much it scratched at his heart to think of them having a baby together-what was a little baby, after all? But scratched even more to think of it now because they'd all been friends and he wanted them all still to be so long as he could just have Ricky and they could get far away from here and everybody and get that house, something, someday. Away. And none of it fair to her neither, he thought. She hadn't never hurt n.o.body, not once. But even harder now for him to like her when he almost wanted to. When the wedding was getting closer and they all were together here talking about (but what? please, Jesus) her wedding dress. Ricky! he cried out silently, what we gone do, Rick? Distant field noises coming drowsily across to them in the mid-afternoon heat. Lou Jay's parents having returned from visiting somebody's sick wife, and Renee come looking for Ricky (where else but at his best friend's? Boys would be just like that, getting married and couldn't care less about tomorrow). The Stone Bridge Road walk had seemed to suit all but the soon-groom. He would fidget, the other two thought, and be his sillya.s.s self, but why looking evermore like he wanted to kill somebody?

-What's wrong with you, Ricky? What you looking at Lou Jay all evil for?

-Nothing.-Skipping stones in front of his shoes on the road.

-I ain't paying him no mind.

-Go on ahead of us, Lou Jay. Me and Ricky got to talk about something for a minute. In private.-Raising her eyebrows at Lou Jay and jerking her head toward the road ahead of them. The two young men exchanged startled looks.

-Anything you got to say to me Lou Jay could hear, Renee. I don't know what you got to say that could be so- -Let me go on, y'all, Lou Jay said quickly. Moving ahead.-I'll wait for y'all on up some.-He was already gone by the time Ricky opened his mouth to protest, then turned back to face Renee standing in the road; her face grave, upturned to the source of light. The light in her eyes not golden, the face not smiling.

-Well, what?

Her eyes, looking at him.

-Well?

-What you taking that tone with me for, Ricky? You acting like somebody did something evil to you. What's wrong with you?

-Just tell me what you got to say, Renee. It's hot out here.

And there's so much he don't even know, she thinks. That he won't ever know.

-Well . . . -A pause.

-Yes?

-I just . . . I just wanted to say I hope everything's gone go all right tomorrow- -What you mean, go right?

-Just what I said.-Pausing once more. Continuing: -I mean I hope you show up on time like Daddy Malcolm said you would and don't come in the church looking all evil like you looking now. Mama and Daddy gone be settin' right up in front with your mama and Daddy Malcolm and we don't need to have no kinda fuss. Mama picked out my dress and Daddy Malcolm paid for it, so that's that. I guess you know all that anyway. I know you're nervous, but I'm nervous, too. You acting like you the only one. But don't forget-I'm the one's having the baby!

-Girl, you don't even . . .

-Listen! This ain't no joke, Ricky. You think I ain't scared too with a baby coming? I ain't never had no baby. I ain't even so sure I want one, to tell you the truth. I don't know. But we gone have one and that's why we getting married.-Stopping then to look at him with those eyes suddenly filled with dark birds in rapid flight through a country he'd never known-or had never wanted to know.

-Renee- -You listen to me, Ricky. I got a lot to say and I don't know if I'm gone be able to say it straight out like this again.-Her feet planted squarely on the road's dry, hard, sun-baked earth. Looking almost as if she will rise into that other country from which her own voice seems to be coming, thinking. But this can't be me talking like this, not to him, not to n.o.body, who ever gave me the-? Or did I always-? But maybe too scary, right now, even to think. Rising into the sky might be easier than continuing to speak, continuing to look at him burning at her that way as the brids race through her eyes, their wings' beating her own secret desire to soar with them, so secret even she is unaware of it, how could such a soaring ever take place? she does not quite think but senses. Senses that the question itself is rarely, if ever, permitted, at least (but why?) to her; that the freedom to dream in a language of wings, if that is what freedom is, to fly, the sort of freedom her almost-but-not-quite dreams intone-such freedom truly must be a journey, must lead to grace. Pet.i.te, pretty girl on a country road. Hair tied back, lips parted to speak or to fly and so much, so much now and always, an entire world and beyond in her eyes. Now speaking from that place where she continues to stand, knowing that it is in fact her own voice she hears, her own words and the wings between them, as the words' weight and her feet so planted continue to pull her down into another vital yet hidden part of herself-a small, reaching figure outlined and illumined in the merciless sun.

-It's like I been thinking . . . -Her voice almost gentle.-You said one time-only one time, Ricky, that you loved me. But I know just like I got two eyes in my head that you ain't been showing me that side much lately. Daddy Malcolm's been real nice to me like always. Why can't you act right? You got the same face like your daddy but you don't act nothing like him.

-Renee . . .

-I ain't finished. Just listen. You got to understand something, Ricky. I don't want n.o.body in this town talking about you and me and our business. One thing I can't stand is a bunch of nosy- . . . The vehemence in her voice halting him.

-Renee- -No. No. Let me tell you. Already somebody come up to Mama saying something about how it must be hard to have a fast girl in the house and how still waters run deep and all a that. Mama picked up the switch so fast I ain't even know what hit me. She said she ain't raised no fast girl for folks to laugh at and I know I don't want n.o.body laughing at me or you neither. So I'm just saying we gone have this baby and live right and since you gone be a daddy I hope you know we ain't gone have time for you to be running all over town with Lou Jay like y'all ain't got nothing better to do.

-Renee, lemme tell you something . . .

-Hold on, Ricky. Whyn't you listen for a minute? I'm just saying we could all still be friends and whatnot but he is going off to college and you and me gone have to get jobs and work, you hear? Cause I ain't about to put this baby off on Mama so she could take up the switch on me again and tell me something about how it's time I acted grown. We can all still have fun and get together but we-we gone have to be responsible. That's what Mama been telling me all along and I think she right.

The birds fluttering, settling. A new fear creeping into the s.p.a.ces between their wings.

-I ain't gone feel that switch no more, Ricky.- A small, quiet voice.

-Renee- -I ain't, Ricky. And, see, I'm not my mama, neither. I'm me. You know? I mean, me. And me, I mean me and you, we ain't gone use no switch on this baby. No, we not.

Opening his mouth to speak but the sweep of those birds stopping him.

-Don't say nothing to me while you still looking all evil, Ricky. Just come on.- As she turns and walks up the road, shoulders a little lower than before, he doesn't see the falling birds beginning to die in her eyes. As he follows with that slow dull heat that begins in his ears and continues on creeping down into what still feels like his neck. When they catch up, Lou Jay will look back at him, see that new (but what is it?) searing out of his eyes, and turn quickly to her. Will put his almost-burly arm through her fine-boned one and say: -What about that dress, girl?- Pulling her forward.- What was you saying?

-Y'all got to see it. It's got satin-wait'll y'all see it!-satin ruffles. And- -It's bad luck to see it til I marry you.- Gazing off toward some white houses on one of the surrounding hills.

-Well, excuse me, you ain't gone see me in it til tomorrow. Didn't I already say- -Don't pay him no mind, Renee.- Shooting Ricky a Don't you start no mess out here! look. Behind Renee's back, Ricky grabbing his own crotch. Flicking Lou Jay the finger.

-You gone act right today or what, Ricky?- Over her shoulder, walking on.

-I got a headache.- Renee missing the kick he aimed just then at Lou Jay's behind.

-Well, don't talk then.

-Go on, Renee.- Smiling so that only Ricky can see.

Smiling, the other thinks. But not smiling that day when I asked you why, Daddy. Why, and you saying 'Cause that's what you gone do, boy. Nothing else. I know you know why so don't be asking. You man enough to put a baby in her, you gone be man enough to marry her. You will marry her.

But I don't want to, Daddy. I-I can't. I don't- Why can't you? Why don't you want to? Boy, don't be telling me nothing that's gone make me kill you up in here.

Would y'all quit that fussing and come on.

Mama. Mama, talk to Daddy.

What you want me to say, baby?

Quit crying, now! Quit crying!-you little a.s.slicking sissy-a.s.s. I wouldn't even call you my own. You think I don't know? You my own and you done shamed me. Shamed me!

Daddy, don't hit me! Don't- I'll kill you.

But didn't say all that. Even though he did hit me we ain't said all that. But we should've. We should've so I coulda known sooner he did hate me. You. You hate me and him. But I just want him. And I don't give a f.u.c.k cause we gone get the h.e.l.l outa here anyway no matter what and buy us a piece of something someplace no matter what 'cause it don't matter what you say you ain't never gone make me marry no girl, Daddy. You could kill me if you want to. You could try. You could just try.

And she told her mama but ain't told her daddy she got a baby in her. Didn't mind telling my daddy but she ain't told her own. Maybe I could blackmail her. I got less than a day.

But now he sees the car coming down the road toward them. Raising dust clouds, an air-wake in the bright distance. The enveloping heat, disturbed, breaking into shimmers. The dust after a moment circling back on itself, settling on the thick gra.s.s, on the leaves of the heavy dark pecan trees along the road.

-That's Daddy Malcolm's car, Rick.-Lou Jay, seeming prepared to run.

-Not his daddy-my father-in-law, Renee corrected him.

-Not yet.-Ricky threw a stone over her head.

-Since when y'all got a station wagon?-Lou Jay looking from Ricky to her.

-Since you know when.

-Maybe he could buy us one.-The snort from behind her that followed her words not reaching her ears.

The car pulling up to them. Ricky's father, sticking his head out.

-Well, what we got here? Three pretty rats.

-Sir.-Lou Jay, not looking.

-Daddy Malcolm.-Renee, moving closer.

-You-to Ricky-you ain't got nothing to say to your daddy, boy?

Something just beneath the surface of his father's face swiftly urged the bloodsnarl trembling in Ricky's throat to a mumble that, in the wavering heat, pa.s.sed well enough for respect.

-Sir.

-Uh huh. And so now where you all walking to?

-No place.-Her voice low as she cast a brief glance at Ricky.-You know we got rehearsal in a little bit. You coming, Daddy Malcolm?

-Church be too hot for rehearsal now.

-We know. Later on this afternoon, we going.

The gray or heavy thing beneath Mr. Malcolm's face softened into a smile before he glanced back at Lou Jay.-That sounds better. Just call me when. I got to bring the preacher.-Sharpening his gaze on Lou Jay.-And you, boy- -Sir?

-Guess you must be fittin to go off to U.A.-Moving something on his lap.

-Yes, sir.

-You won't be coming back too much, then-this summer's the last we gone see of you. You'll be so busy.

-Maybe.

-Ain't no maybe about it.- Pulling up into view a long, shiny rifle he'd been holding out of their sight on his lap.

-Ain't she good-looking?- A smile.-I'm fittin' to get me some hunting.-Patting the rifle fondly, looking from Lou Jay to his son, smiling at their unsmiles.

-I could knock off something big with this.

-You could shoot us something.- Moving closer to the smiling face until Ricky's hand reached out for, tightened around, hers.

-Honey, I'd shoot anything for you, looking so pretty. We know why, boys, don't we?

Dust, heavy things, silence. A memory of birds, rivers, blue things. The two young men unsmiling, wordless.

-Got to say, Lou boy, nice to see you talking so sweet with a girl-even my son's fiancee. Ricky!

-What?- Slow steps forward from where he'd been pulling leaves off a few bushes on the other side of the road. Lou Jay and Renee walking farther down the road to stand in the shade.

-Don't you what me.

His son silent.

-Come closer, boy.

His father's eyes, burning into him.

The older man looking straight into his son's eyes to say: -I know you member what we talked about.

-Daddy- -Seven sons,- his father continues, a sudden bitterness hardening that deep voice,-seven sons and my baby son gone leave us tomorrow to take him a wife. Thank you, Jesus! he shouts, shattering the stillness beneath the trees. Looking about as if expecting Christ to come down off the cross, then driving that hot gaze toward his son. Only then does Ricky see the face that had stormed, kissed, wept over, sang to and cajoled him through the years in that house they lived in up on the hill change in that very second into something utterly destroyed, like the face of a person in flames-a face all at once of hideous suffering. Melting, shifting, a face of pure rage and something else, unspeakable: what in that moment the witness knows has been familiar to him all his life, throughout every cold s.p.a.ce back of communal keening, visions of dark birds in someone else's eyes, beneath blue things lurking in rivers and deep within his own frightened silences-a face offering no escape for itself or anyone. In that collapsed minute he sees in the face too much like his own every twisted face that once torched barns and left fiery crosses in their place, faces that have stalked his dreams; then the face of every corn-whiskey p.e.c.k.e.rwood c.o.o.n hunter; then all the faces before his time and of it, that above jeers and fire had strung up heavy women and ripped out their insides, to crush beneath the heel the dreaded commingled issue so desired and despised. Daddy. Backing away in horror from the face as he feels himself drawn with a greater fearful yearning than ever before for who and what he is sure, this time, are behind it-the strange human power or just the pain, in the body of a man or a lurching, broke-spirited G.o.d. And then in that other very old language which possesses no words but only the power of harsh vision and the brute killing force of pain-a kick to the stomach, a sharp knife to the groin-he knows that the terrible something inside himself that burns what he feels for her, for her-maybe just something like hate itself, looking for an easy place to settle and spit-forms part of this face, corners its edges; as he knows too where sensation blows cold and fierce enough to slay everything that all faces of this face were devised long ago, in three (or two, or four, or eight hundred) closed moments of the most deadly cunning, silence. Sensing all at once a weakening in his knees that feels as though-yes, as though it's accusing him of something. Backing away still further from the face. But it continues to speak.

-You mind you tell Satan to get behind you, boy,- it hisses, -for the rest of your days on Earth. You hear?