Blues for Mister Charlie (13 page)

PARNELL
: Goddamn!

LYLE
: Missed it. Ha-ha!

PARNELL
: It’s probably somebody’s mother.

LYLE
: Watch.
(Sights, shoots) Ha-ha!

PARNELL
: Bravo!

LYLE
: I knew it! Had my name written on it, just as pretty as you please!
(Exits, returns with his bird)
See? My Daddy taught me well. It was sport for you. It was life for us.

PARNELL
: I reckon you shot somebody’s baby.

LYLE
: I tell you—I can’t go on like this. There comes a time in a man’s life when he’s got to have him a little—peace.

PARNELL
: You mean calm. Tranquillity.

LYLE
: Yeah. I didn’t mean it like it sounded. You thought I meant—no. I’m tired of—

PARNELL
: Poon-tang.

LYLE
: How’d you know? You tired of it, too? Hell. Yeah. I want kids.

PARNELL
: Well, then—marry the girl.

LYLE
: She ain’t a girl no more. It might be her last chance, too. But, I swear, Parnell, she might be the only virgin left in this town. The only
white
virgin. I can vouch for the fact ain’t many black ones.

PARNELL
: You’ve been active, I know. Any kids?

LYLE
: None that I know of. Ha-ha!

PARNELL
: Do you think Jo might be upset—by the talk about you and Old Bill? She’s real respectable, you know. She’s a
librarian.

LYLE
: No. Them things happen every day. You think I ought to marry her? You really think she’ll say yes?

PARNELL
: She’ll say yes. She’d better. I wish you luck. Name the first one after me.

LYLE
: No. You be the godfather. And my best man. I’m going to name the first one after my Daddy—because he taught me more about hunting on your land than
you
know. I’ll give him your middle name. I’ll call him Lyle Parnell Britten, Jr.!

PARNELL
: If the girl says yes.

LYLE
: Well, if she says no, ain’t no problem, is there? We know where to go when the going gets rough, don’t we, old buddy?

PARNELL
: Do we? Look! Mine?

LYLE
: What’ll you bet?

PARNELL
: The price of your wedding rings.

LYLE
: You’re on. Mine?
Mine!

WHITETOWN
:

BLACKTOWN
:

THE STATE
: You were acquainted with the late Richard Henry?

PARNELL
: Of course. His father and I have been friends all our lives.

THE STATE
: Close friends?

PARNELL
: Yes. Very close.

THE STATE
: And what is your relationship to the alleged murderer, Mr. Lyle Britten?

PARNELL
: We, also, have been friends all our lives.

THE STATE
: Close friends?

PARNELL
: Yes.

THE STATE
: As close as the friendship between yourself and the dead boy’s father?

PARNELL
: I would say so—it was a very different relationship.

THE STATE
: Different in what respect, Mr. James?

PARNELL
: Well, we had different things to talk about. We did different things together.

THE STATE
: What sort of different things?

PARNELL
: Well—hunting, for example—things like that.

THE STATE
: You never went hunting with Reverend Henry?

PARNELL
: No. He didn’t like to hunt.

THE STATE
: He told you so? He told you that he didn’t like to hunt?

PARNELL
: The question never came up. We led very different lives.

THE STATE
: I am gratified to hear it. Is it not true, Mr. James, that it is impossible for any two people to go on a hunting trip together if either of them has any reason at all to distrust the other?

PARNELL
: Well, of course that would have to be true. But it’s never talked about—it’s just understood.

THE STATE
: We can conclude, then, that you were willing to trust Lyle Britten with your life but did not feel the same trust in Reverend Henry?

PARNELL
: Sir, you may not draw any such conclusion! I have told you that Reverend Henry and I led very different lives!

THE STATE
: But you have been friends all your lives. Reverend Henry is also a southern boy—he, also, I am sure, knows and loves this land, has gone swimming and fishing in her streams and rivers, and stalked game in her forests. And yet, close as you are, you have never allowed yourself to be alone with Reverend Henry when Reverend Henry had a gun. Doesn’t this suggest some
lack
—in your vaunted friendship?

PARNELL
: Your suggestion is unwarranted and unworthy. As a soldier, I have often been alone with Negroes with guns, and it certainly never caused me any uneasiness.

THE STATE
: But you were fighting a common enemy then. What was your impression of the late Richard Henry?

PARNELL
: I liked him. He was very outspoken and perhaps tactless, but a very valuable person.

THE STATE
: How would you describe his effect on this town? Among his own people? Among the whites?

PARNELL
: His effect? He was pretty well liked.

THE STATE
: That does not answer my question.

PARNELL
: His effect was—kind of unsettling, I suppose. After all, he had lived in the North a long time, he wasn’t used to—the way we do things down here.

THE STATE
: He was accustomed to the way things are done in the North—where he learned to carry arms, to take dope, and to couple with white women!

PARNELL
: I cannot testify to any of that, sir. I can only repeat that he reacted with great intensity to the racial situation in this town, and his effect on the town was, to that extent, unsettling.

THE STATE
: Did he not encourage the Negroes of this town to arm?

PARNELL
: Not to my knowledge, sir, no. And, in any case, they are not armed.

THE STATE
: You are in a position to reassure us on this point?

PARNELL
: My friends do not lie.

THE STATE
: You are remarkably fortunate. You are aware of the attitude of the late Richard Henry toward white women? You saw the photographs he carried about with him?

PARNELL
: We never discussed women. I never saw the photographs.

THE STATE
: But you knew of their existence?

PARNELL
: They were not obscene. They were simply snapshots of people he had known in the North.

THE STATE
: Snapshots of white women?

PARNELL
: Yes.

THE STATE
: You are the first witness to admit the existence of these photographs, Mr. James.

PARNELL
: It is very likely that the other witnesses never saw them. The boy had been discouraged, very early on, from mentioning them or showing them about.

THE STATE
: Discouraged by whom?

PARNELL
: Why—by—me.

THE STATE
: But you never saw the photographs—

PARNELL
: I told him I didn’t want to see them and that it would be dangerous to carry them about.

THE STATE
: He showed these photographs to you, but to no one else?

PARNELL
: That would seem to be the case, yes.

THE STATE
: What was his motive in taking you into his confidence?

PARNELL
: Bravado. He wanted me to know that he had white friends in the North, that—he had been happy—in the North.

THE STATE
: You did not tell his father? You did not warn your close friend?

PARNELL
: I am sure that Richard never mentioned these photographs to his father. He would have been too ashamed. Those women were beneath him.

THE STATE
: A white woman who surrenders to a colored man is beneath all human consideration. She has wantonly and deliberately defiled the temple of the Holy Ghost. It is clear
to me that the effect of such a boy on this town was irresponsible and incendiary to the greatest degree. Did you not find your close friendship with Reverend Henry somewhat strained by the son’s attempt to rape the wife of your other close friend, Lyle Britten?

PARNELL
: This attempt was never mentioned before—before today.

THE STATE
: You are as close as you claim to the Britten family and knew nothing of this attempted rape? How do you explain that?

PARNELL
: I cannot explain it.

THE STATE
: This is a court of law, Mr. James, and we will have the truth!

WHITETOWN
: Make him tell the truth!

BLACKTOWN
: Make him tell the truth!

THE STATE
: How can you be the close friend you claim to be of the Britten family and not have known of so grave an event?

PARNELL
: I—I knew of a fight. It was understood that the boy had gone to Mr. Britten’s store looking for a fight. I—I cannot explain
that
, either.

THE STATE
: Who told you of the fight?

PARNELL
: Why—Mr. Britten.

THE STATE
: And did not tell you that Richard Henry had attempted to assault his wife? Come, Mr. James!

PARNELL
: We were all very much upset. Perhaps he was not as coherent as he might have been—perhaps I failed to listen closely. It was my assumption that Mrs. Britten had misconstrued the boy’s actions—he had been in the North a long time, his manner was very free and bold.

THE STATE
: Mrs. Britten has testified that Richard Henry grabbed her and pulled her to him and tried to kiss her. How can those actions be misconstrued?

PARNELL
: Those actions are—quite explicit.

THE STATE
: Thank you, Mr. James. That is all.

JUDGE
: The witness may step down.

BLACKTOWN
: What do you think of our fine friend
now?
He didn’t do it to us rough and hard. No, he was real gentle. I hardly felt a thing. Did you? You can’t never go against the word of a white lady, man, not even if you’re white. Can’t be done. He was sad.
Sad!

WHITETOWN
: It took him long enough! He did his best not to say it—can you imagine! So her story was true—after all! I hope he’s learned his lesson. We been trying to tell him—for years!

CLERK
(Calls)
: Mr. Lyle Britten!

LYLE
: I wonder what he’ll grow up to look like. Of course, it might be a girl. I reckon I wouldn’t mind—just keep on trying till I get me a boy, ha-ha! Old Miss Josephine is something, ain’t she? I really struck oil when I come across her. She’s a nice woman. And she’s
my
woman—I ain’t got to worry about
that
a-tall! You’re making big changes in your life, Lyle, and you got to be ready to take on this extra responsibility. Shoot, I’m ready. I know what I’m doing. And I’m going to work harder than I’ve ever worked before in my life to make Jo happy—and keep her happy—and raise our children to be fine men and women. Lord, you know I’m not a praying man. I’ve done a lot of wrong things in my life and I ain’t never going to be perfect. I know You know that. I know You understand that. But, Lord, hear me today and help me to do what I’m supposed to do. I want to be as strong as my Mama and Daddy and raise my children like they raised me. That’s what I want, oh Lord. In a few years I’ll be walking here, showing my son these trees and this water and this sky. He’ll have his hand in my hand, and I’ll show him the
world. Isn’t that a funny thing! He don’t even exist yet—he’s just an egg in his mother’s belly, I bet you couldn’t even find him with a microscope—and I put him there—and he’s coming out soon—with fingers and toes and eyes—and by and by, he’ll learn to walk and talk—and I reckon I’ll have to spank him sometime—if he’s anything like me, I know I will. Isn’t that something! My son! Hurry up and get here, so I can hug you in my arms and give you a good start on your long journey!

LYLE
: You remember them days when Willa Mae was around? My mind’s been going back to them days. You remember? She was a hot little piece, I just had to have some of that, I just
had
to. Half the time she didn’t wear no stockings, just had them brown, round legs just moving. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her legs when she didn’t wear no stockings. And you know what she told me? You know what she told me? She said there wasn’t a nigger alive could be as good to her as me. That’s right. She said she’d like to
see
the nigger could do her like I done her. You hear me, boy? That’s something, ain’t it? Boy—she’d just come into a room sometimes and my old pecker would stand up at attention. You ain’t jealous, are you, Joel? Ha-ha! You never did hear from her no more, did you? No, I reckon you didn’t. Shoot, I got to get on home. I’m a family man now, I got—great responsibilities! Yeah. Be seeing you, Joel. You don’t want to close up and walk a-ways with me, do you? No, I reckon you better not. They having fun. Sure wish I could be more like you all. Bye-bye!