Deep in the Heart of Me (42 page)

"This-a here gasoline will develop horsepower. There ain't another kind on the market today more pure," Ulie says. "That tractor is gonna run like she's young again."

Farmer laughs. "Always reckoned that machine was a man."

"It could be," Ulie agrees. "It's possible."

I'm trying not to roll my eyes as I fill the tank.

"His mother just bought a brand new gasoline stove…," Ulie's big hand sweeps toward me.

"What that run her?" Farmer says.

"Two-hundred-and-fifty dollars," Ulie says proudly telling our business.

The farmer whistles and says, "Damn."

"She don't even work up a sweat no more. And it cooks all the food the same. No burned side, no getting in that fiery arena to turn the biscuits this way and that way."

Sometimes I get stuck watching Ulie's show. We've already got this farmer sold on Purity Gas and us, and now it's just fun.

We get in the truck, and he backs up to the road. "Ain't gonna look at the tractor the same now."

"What?" I say.

"You heard him. Says his tractor is a man. He didn't even say…male. He said, man. Now that's just dark and troublesome."

I put my hand over my mouth. I know what he's going to say.

"Reminds me of Boss," he says.

We laugh then. It's not funny. There are sad stories tied to it. But we laugh about that farmer riding on a man—tractor.

"You miss Boss we could take a trip up there," I say.

We ride in silence for a while.

"We could take a trip up there," Ulie says.

"And do what?" I say.

"Burn it down," he says.

"Wouldn't do any good."

"What might do some good is us waiting for him," he says.

It's not like I haven't thought about it, and we've gotten close to saying that a time or two. But since that petition failed, there is one way to remove part of the school's problem.

Dad's petition for an investigation of the Illinois State Industrial School was launched, and no violations of state law were discovered. Case closed.

Ulie and me have been talking about a lot of things, a lot of the injustices we witnessed or were a part of. There were things…Ulie never said…things I saw and maybe don’t know what to say about. I don't think the talking helps, it just plows that field a hundred times. It doesn't change anything. But laughing, and maybe proving every day we made it out, we’re alive…that helps some.

He starts to hit the brake as we reach the next farm. "All right now. She comes out, remember what I told you," he says.

"I say Ulysses come over here or something."

"No saying Ulie. I want her to know my name."

I look out the window because I'm laughing.

"You go on and laugh," he says. "Maybe I'm laughing at you. All the time. Trying to get married at fifteen."

"So?"

"You in the garden…all these flowers."

"There's no one like Sobe," I say just so I can say her name out loud.

"No one like Sobe," he mimics. "You gonna wear that suit…."

"Tuxedo," I correct. It cost me a pretty penny even though it was used. It is still stylish according to Maman, but it hit my wallet like a sledgehammer to lay out the thirty-five dollars for it and all the doo-dads that go along with it. I don’t know why I’m going. Haven’t seen her in months, not a word, and an invite comes in the mail. My family is waiting on me when I visit home like the Pope himself asked me to stop by. She’s getting crowned for something—Queen Sobe. At first, I said hell with it. Hell with her. Then Ulie started in. He’s tired of my moping, and I’m not moping.

Here’s the thing. It’s Elsie I end up saying I’ll go for. Not Sobe. Elsie is invited, too. And Elsie will die or something if I don’t take her. I’m the only one who can. And then Maman, on and on. And Grandma. Then finally, the old man in the barn one morning, the “you’re my son,” speech thrown in.

So I say what the hell.

"Monkey in a suit," he says. I said that first when I tried it on for Maman. He can poke fun, but he tried it on next. He said he looked like a butler, and we laughed cause then he went around doing his pantomime, and the girls squealed cause they give him such a big head laughing at everything he does…like he's Shaun.

I made him take it off before he got something on it. I got it on the hangar and brushed it good. That dance is in two days, so I want to look sharp. I don’t know why.

We pull into that farm, and I already know that girl will show. She shows every time for him. He maneuvers the truck and backs up to the pump too quickly, jerking us around.

"Damn," I say because he's showing off.

We get out, and he's tucking his shirt, smelling his hands because we reek of gasoline but in the fresh air it's bearable.

First, her Daddy comes from around the shed, then a couple of the boys. Here she comes out on the porch, and he's carrying on with the men, but his eyes keep darting to her. She's tall like him and slender, dark and smooth. I see it. I know it's more powerful than Ulie lets on. She looks at him, and he raises that Fedora and smiles at her and her dad turns, to see what Ulie…Ulysses is gawking at and sees his daughter and says, "Regina get in the house."

I start talking then, "What you think of Joe DiMaggio?" I say. "Seventeen in the majors."

"I think I been a man since then," Regina's father says. "But most can't say it." He looks at Ulie.

Ulie's Adam's apple bobs in his neck like it's dunking for words.

The night of the spring dance me and Ulie talk about baseball—playing and otherwise, all the way to St. Louis, anything to keep my mind off of what I’m about to do.

Ulie talks about Regina.

Her brother Abel, who Ulie won over by playing shortstop for the Tweetberry Panthers, is bringing her across the river to a cousin's house. The cousin's church is having a tent revival and Regina sings.

Ulie's only communication with her has been a short reply to the note she sent to the station inviting him to the doings. It was carried to the station by her brother. "Daddy don't know, but Regina has a heart for the Lord's work," the brother said. “She is merciful to the Prodigal.”

Brother waited for Ulie to write a response. Ulie looked up the Prodigal story and worried over it for a week, then he wrote, "I'll be there. I have longed to get right with Jesus. Sincerely, Your Servant, Ulysses P. Duncan, III."

"You're going to get your nose shot off," I tell him, but he doesn't want to hear that.

So Ulie drives us in Dad’s truck. He’ll drop Elsie and me off, then go for Regina’s show, then back to get us.

I’ve got this top hat to look out for, the one Joseph used for his pet rabbit, his magic show, and Maman wiped it out, but I’m still not sure it won’t make me smell like a guinea pig or something. But Elsie is holding it as she’s more worried about it than me.

We pull up to that school and right away I see the girls fluttering about in fancy dresses and the other monkeys dressed like me. Ulie has pulled toward the back of the lot as Elsie is mortified about the truck. That's fine with me. I embrace the chance to walk off some of my nerves. And I got them badly.

I am brushing at myself last minute cause this material attracts every piece of lint that could blow in a window from two states. I fit that hat on my head and before he pulls off I ask Ulie how I look.

He bursts out laughing.

"What?" I say, and I'm feeling mad.

"You look…dapper," he says.

"Well, let's get on with it," I say, waving him off.

“Tonio,” Elsie rebukes because I’ve been told a million times by Maman I am to take Elsie’s arm.

“Take it where?” is my usual answer. Now I see. I have to take it in amongst the bright and shining. I don’t know why in hell I got myself into this.

I stay calm but not inside. I'm looking for her. I know her dress is pink. Elsie told me that when I ordered her flowers. She said it would make Sobe look like a fairy princess.

The flowers were delivered here since we don't have a flower shop in town, just the post office and the school and jail. Undertaker. Corner grocery with canned goods and anything else you might need. But no flowers. We had Rivers order those here in the city. They were delivered to the school. We bought one buttoner, but I bought small white roses for Elsie. And after fighting with myself…I bought a white rose for Sobe. I didn’t know if I’d actually give it to her…but just in case.

The lobby is busy. Couples are getting their pictures taken. I can smell different perfumes and pomades. Smells I don't know but what a mix.

Right off I see the old hen. She is done up pretty fine. With all the finery around her and the gold shining in her long dress, I guess I didn't know she could look this way. Some corny old gent kisses her cheek, and I know right off Rivers likes it. I mean she shines from it. She pats his cheek and hands him a corsage, and he must pin it on her.

Lord.

Elsie calls out to Rivers, and she waves, giddy-like, then goes for our flowers and here she comes, that white rose in her hand. Just like Sobe. Rivers has it all is what I mean, and I try not to hate her. I do.

Elsie is chattering at her, also, giddy. I don’t say anything. I take my boutonniere lest the old biddy think she’s pinning it on me. I struggle to get it on my lapel, and it’s not coming off anytime soon because I bent the pin to keep it there.

Shit, my hands are shaky.

I hope Maman was right about this suit because I've been getting some looks. It doesn't seem any more ridiculous than the ones I see on everyone else.

I am carrying my top hat even though most have checked them in the place to do that. I give it to the girl there, and she smiles all silly at me. I hope I look stylish and not foolish.

I can hear singing from the ballroom. That should be Sobe's group. Elsie said they must sing a couple of songs to welcome the herd of gagglers.

I get in the mix moving through the wide ballroom door. My heart is pounding.

They have changed this place to favor a palace. It's so fancy I've never seen its like. If a mud grubber reform school buster like me can be in a place like this, then maybe our country has turned a corner.

There are lines of tables on one end shining with fancy plates and stemmed glasses and the expanse of dance floor with dancers pouring across, then a stage at the other end, and an orchestra and the group of choral singers and I don't have to search once I see that group, my eyes go right to her, a queen amongst many beautiful people.

And she sees me. She is looking at her director, but mostly at me. I see that because my eyes are good, and where she's concerned, they are perfect. I mean I see everything.

I see her dark hair held back from her face. I see the filmy pink material on her dress and her bare neck and arms, skin like cream. I see her mouth open in song, and the red on her lips and fighting a smile, and her eyes, on me.

When they finish singing I make my way even closer to that stage, and I get many looks, shy looks from the girls as they pass me at the bottom of the stairs and quiet looks from the dandified pretty boys. I hold my ground there, though, and she is nearly last to depart because she was in a back corner.

I am waiting at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her. I'm mad some of these so-called educated bastards came down before her. Maman taught me to put girls first. But I'm also not mad because I'm stunned such a beautiful creature can exist. And not be mine.

She is taking the steps slow, but not so I can see her, she is looking at me.

This dress, it is the most beautiful sight, less fancy than most around here, but more perfect the way it looks on her, shows her figure. And her shoes, a strap over her ankles. I could stare at those shoes for a good while.

"You're so handsome," she says upon reaching me.

"Bell of the ball?" I say. I mean her, of course.

"Something like that. But I won't win. I'll just have to go up…."

"You should win. This school got something right on that." Well…it’s true. I’m mad at her, perpetually mad at her. But I’m not here to ruin her evening. I'm being generous. These good clothes are making me nicer.

“Oh,” I say remembering the rose. “Here.”

She looks at it, seems sad for a minute. She looks at me, and her eyes are shiny. That makes me love her. And hate her too. It’s just a rose.

She takes it from me, and my hand touches hers. I want to ask a million things. Mostly—still waiting on me? But I don’t. Or—you never, ever call. Or write. Stuff like that. Maddening stuff.

“Would you pin it on me?” she says, trying to remove the little bunch of flowers she already has pinned there.

“I don’t know,” I say. “My hands….” Well, I took sandpaper to them to try and make them fit. They are rough as can be. Now they are shaking, and she don’t need to see that.

“Oh,” she says. “Alright.”

“Here,” I say. “Where’d you get these others? Don’t tell me.” I’m muttering all this. I wish I’d shut-up. But I wrestle her dress some, touch her breast some. And I don’t mean to. I end up cursing to make it worse. I finish, and it’s got a bad angle. And I’m holding the ones she had before. Much better ones in my opinion.

“I can’t pin flowers,” I say.

She straightens it, and it goes crooked again. “It’s perfect,” she says and a blinding smile that ruins me.

"I have to dance…right after they crown…. But I wanted to tell you…it's Ralph…from the bus that time? I had no say over it. He's…he's my partner. It's just a ceremony. A tradition."

"That dandy bastard?"

She looks around like I'm going to get arrested for cursing. I shouldn't have cursed again, but I can't quite say I'm sorry. Her arms are naked, and he'll have his hands there I guarantee. But…why is she telling me? Apologizing? I’ve no idea what she’s up to, not anytime.

"Well, I came for Elsie," I say. It sounds harsh. It is a harsh truth. To me.

She doesn’t answer right off. I see I’ve hurt her. It seems impossible not to. Impossible.

"It really is supposed to be an honor…to make court," she says lamely. We weren’t talking about that. What were we talking about?

"Sure. Sure. You should make it," I say, but I don't know exactly what I'm saying.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't say that. You shouldn't apologize…jeez, it's swell you're on it. Good luck on it," I say. It’s hurting her when I’m polite. Maybe that’s what encourages me.

Rivers’ voice comes over the speaker. "Will the members of the court assemble in the lobby?"

"Oh," she says, "that's me."

"You best go then," I say, hands in my pockets.

“Antonio…,” she says.

“Just go,” I say, and it’s real then. More real than ever. We’re done.

“Have…have you been well?” she says.

“I look sick or something?” I clear my throat and slicker my hair with my hand.

“No!” she says loudly. She looks around, and there’s a blush. “You look wonderful.”

“You best get on,” I say, but I don’t want her to.

“I’m…I’m traveling almost every weekend with the group. We…may go overseas. The President doesn’t advise but….”

“You’ll do what you want, I guess.” I mean the President of the United States won’t stop her.

“Don’t say it like that,” she says, not so simpering now. A little cross.

Rivers gives another call. Always something.

“Do you think of me?” she says raising her chin.

“Best go to Rivers, Sobe,” I say. I ain’t biting on that.

“I guess you blame me then. You must hate me Tonio.”

“This how you want to do it Sobe? Pin me up and give me two seconds with Rivers breathing down our backs?”

She stands there, a princess, shaking her head, looking away down the front of me. “I’m sorry, Tonio.”

“Stop saying sorry to me. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” I try one more time to straighten that hopeless rose. “Now go…be a queen,” I say. And just like that, I ain’t mad anymore. It just is. All this. Me a convict. Ex-convict I guess. And her a queen.

Well, I knew that.

She grabs my hand. She’s got the shiny eyes, and I hope they don’t spill over. She squeezes my hand. “You shouldn’t have called me…a shady lady.” And before I can even be regretful she’s bringing up my unfortunate remark, she runs off.

I see her one last time in the doorway. Ralph is there, and they go out together.

Suddenly Elsie is beside me. I can see how happy all of this makes her. "Miss Pat says Sobe wins. They've counted the votes. She wins by a landslide. You best prepare yourself, Tonio. Practice that smile," she says, a very worried look on her face.

"She should win," I say. And not just to put Elsie at ease. At ease that I won’t bust the place down. Sobe Bell should win every award this stuffy place can give her. But it’s all she gets. I would have loved her….

"He wins too. They are the King and Queen Bee. The newspaper is here to take their picture. She'll be tied up…at court. You should know."

“I’m not here for Sobe,” I say, and I’m crushing those other flowers she wore in my hand.

“For Maman?” she asks.

“For you,” I say. And it’s partly true. If not for her, I never would have come.

She doesn’t know what to say, but she quickly wipes a gloved hand beneath her eyes.

“Are you really as calm as you seem, Tonio?” Elsie asks.

I make a picture of that Ralph's hands on Sobe's arms. That thin dress and her lovely form…. All we’ve been through, her and me, tied together…from our souls. All of it and her thinking she can turn away now…for a fancy dress…and a paper king…. I am here. I am real. And she knows it.

"I am calm," I remember to say.