The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter (32 page)

 

11

There weren't no severance from the mill. So between my lass day July the 22nd an delayed action on my initial shoe store check, my firs pay in three weeks be tomarra, Monday August fifteenth. My trousers gettin looser but in the scarcity I keep a eye, make sure Erma don't try sneakin me a bit more, if anybody get extra it's her, with child. Whatever that mean. Well I ain't complainin. Ain't we blest, another job foun s'fast?
Knock knock.

Aaron! Whatchu doin here? Everthing okay? Benja? Me an Randall seen her in church this mornin.

We fine. An whilst you all was gettin religious, I was gettin lucky on the river. More n we can eat. Yaw take some a this carp off our hans?

Feast! Pickin my teeth, Erma with the dishes, You think they really had extra, Randall? Or Benja jus send him over, knowin things been tight aroun here.

Tight no more, tomarra finally gettin that check! I ain't have another day off till nex Sunday, why'nt we celebrate now? We got some merriment comin to us. Ice cream?

Lickin my chocolate cone, her a vanilla purist, strollin quiet downtown in the hot n humid. All the stores closed cep Kelley's Sweet Freeze.

Shoeshine, suh?

Ole Bruce. Lookin up at a white man in a suit. He sure wouldn't be addressin me, all he do is look at my shoes, know a colored shine a luxury beyond my means. The white man sit, put his feet up. Bruce in the sun but position his chair so the customer in the shade, Bruce know good business.

Ever time I come here that ole man workin, says Erma smilin. Bet he been sittin on that corner fifty years.

You got a vanilla mustache. She giggle an wipe it.

There she is. Handin out suckers to her brood. Then look up, smilin.

Randall Evans.

Hello, Margaret Laherty. Mrs. Woodhouse.

All around her's Alexander Woodhouse an them four little Woodhouses an Margaret's belly lookin damn close to turnin four into five.

You ever met my wife Erma?

I did, church lass Christmas. Good to see ya again.

Good to see you. But sorry, I don't recall. You a member of our church?

Margaret snorts. Lucky I ever set foot outside my house with this army. I think you know my husband Alex?

How're yaw? His smile bright white. Dentures. Some war accident, Korea. An he return, become a dentist.

We ain't regulars. Jus Christmas an Easter goers, as the holier-n-thou peg us. Erma purse her lips. Margaret look embarrassed, Not yaw! Her hair still long, still that pretty auburn. Few strands a gray but healthy. Shiny.

That one sure is your spittin image. Tryin to save Margaret, lookin all red-faced over nothin. Not that Erma ain't been known to accuse a congregant or two a bein a Christmas an Easter goer which she practically rank up there with killin an covetin thy neighbor's wife.

That's my oldest, Caroline. Say hi to Mr. Randall an Miss Erma.

Hi.

I heard things got tough over there at the mill. Hope you got spared the ax.

Matter a fact, I did not. But another source a gainful employ pop right up. Workin at the shoe store. Salesman.

An Margaret Laherty glance at ole Bruce.

Hey! Ma, he took my grape! He took my grape outa my pocket!

You weren't eatin it.

I was savin it! Ma, he finished his cherry, now he took my grape!

Give it to your sister.

The boy shake his head.

Give it your sister!

The boy shake his head, stick the sucker in his mouth. The girl scream.

Bam! Margaret slap the backa that boy's head, pop that grape lollipop right outa his mouth an Margaret catch it expert like some trick they been practicin. The boy bawlin while Margaret give it to the girl, who promply stick it in her mouth.

Nex time I buy em you don't get any. Margaret wipe sweat from her brow, move her hair outa her face. The boy hollerin louder.

I hope yaw think long an hard fore you decide to start a family. Nice seein ya again, Randall. Let's
go!

With Margaret's crew gone the day's quiet again. Ole Bruce had two consecutive customers, now stand in the shade, fannin hisself. My cone ancient history but Erma a slow-eater, still a bit left. Then she throw it away, lost appetite, an I know what's comin.

Women like her don't know how lucky they are.

Wipin moisture from her cheek, she ain't decided yet whether she's perspirin mad or cryin.

She don't even got the patience. Way she whomped that boy!

Whatchu think I do? My job?

She stop. Huh?

Jus wonderin. I been at the store two weeks now. What would you call my occupation?

Shoes! Whatchu talkin about?

Like that? I look toward Ole Bruce. Where Margaret looked.

What?

I'm askin—

You comparin your job to nigger work?

I'm askin do you see a difference.

Yes
I see a difference. You
sell
shoes, look like he
sell shoes?
You work
in
side, you're a professional, shirt n tie. An you ain't a nigger!

She storm ahead toward home. In the distance I hear another a Margaret's gang hollerin, or maybe it's the same one, an I stan there, feelin this odd sensation. Satisfaction.
Lucky
about my sorry propagatin status, childless maybe not such a bad state a bein. An a little guilty about thinkin it but maybe not guilty as I should be feelin. Couple drops, I look up. The hot n humid just about to come to a fass climax. Ole Bruce quick to pick up his gear. His own
shop, I think. Own boss.

I start to run but still caught in the downpour, prolly good Erma rushed on ahead mad cuz she musta made it home dry. Soaked, no need to bother hurryin anymore so I mosey. An the thought a those fine gentlemen in their crisp newly shined shoes now sloshin through the mud have me whistlin all the way to my front door.

 

12

School starts 9 a.m. Wednesday, but we got people comin early as seven.

I nod. This sure is some good potata salad, Benja. Jus like Ma's.

Thank you. We don't want any funny stuff goin on, them tryin to sneak em roun the back, we got all doors covered.

Where
is
Aunt Bobbie anyway? says Deb Ellen.

Ole folks' home, she fixed food for em. Give her somethin to do now an again, she be by later. An they ain't beatin us there neither. Principal assured us, teachers arrive eight but no kids in till eight thirty earliest. You don't gotta be to work till ten.

Nine forty-five.

It'll all be over by nine, plenty a time for you to get over to Martin's.

That'd be somethin. Erma chimin in. That'd be somethin for the baby, wouldn't it? Know her daddy protected her school for her even before she's born?

Cracka the bat. I turn. There's Labor Day our side a the park, Labor Day their side. In the middle the kids play together, ten-year-olds, twelve. Colored with white, all they care about's enough for baseball teams. Deb Ellen watchin the game. My mind ain't on school nor baseball, bein distracted by Mr. Martin takin me aside Saturday. Been a month, Randall. Toldja we'd be havin us a talk your commissions don't raise above minimum. Now sometimes there's the late bloomers, takes a little longer to get the knack. But consider this your firs warnin.

What's the score? I ask Deb Ellen, tryin to change the subject in my head.

Fifteen–three. But don't worry. That age, it ain't over till it's over, nex innin underdog might score twenty.

We need a solid wall a people at the high school, Randall, we need to show we mean business.

Your kids is still in the elementary, Benja.

Thinkin bout the future! Wait till they get over to the secondary to take care a things, too late!

Whew! I jus felt the baby kick. You wanna feel it, Benja?

Whoever don't show up can't complain later when some nigger's asked their girl to the senior prom.

Clamorin from inside a Benja's house, B.J. fixin the kitchen sink.

Why you ain't keepin a watch on the primary?
Your
kids?

Cuz the parents a the little ones is smart. They ain't tryin to invade, jus keepin their kids right where they are, colored school.

Hard times prolly made a good salesman out of a man or two but I'm the other breed. I nodded to Mr. Martin, which to reassure I'd try harder, but the truth I don't say is me an Erma's grateful for every penny, lass thing we need is someone tryin to give us the hard sell on luxury shoes so why would I do that to somebody else? On the other han such a philosophy apparently never entered the heads a my co-workers, Brenda Jean an Diane practically tackle me racin to the floor when they hear incomin customers through the entrance
ting-a-ling
.

Randall, you got Sundays off, store closed, right? I got a roofin job, repairin the holes, tarrin. Be my partner? They pay fifty, that be twenty-five apiece. Day's work.

I stare at Deb Ellen. Yes!

We mean business. What kinda colored parent gonna send their kids into all that? Danger. Separate but equal's been workin fine.

Ain't that a blessin! We really could use that money, Deb Ellen. Give Randall somethin to do too, all he do Sundays now is down in the basement with Henry Lee's train. Watchin TV with me useta be his favorite pastime but think he got sicka baby this baby that. Ah, new fathers!

We mean business. Those niggers try innegratin our schools, someone's gettin hurt.

B.J. come out for a little break, deviled egg. He see Benja all intense, he sign to me, What? I sign back, Tell ya later.

Lucky you got today off. People's tryin to change the blue laws. Wanna make stores open Sundays, stores open Labor Day.

I doubt that, Deb Ellen. How that make any sense? Make people labor on Labor Day. Then I pick up a big dill pickle. Crunch.

We're thinkin a namin her Ruby. You think that's a pretty name?

It sure is. Benja settin out the ketchup an mustard, not even botherin to look at Erma.

Cracka the bat, gran slam homer for the trailin team. Hey hey hey! says Deb Ellen.

Two a mine's your godkids, Randall.

That's right, sweetie, we gotta do right by Benja's kids, our godkids. An Ruby.

Honey.

We look up. Aaron all sheepish. Benja glarin at him. Cautiously he approach.

Honey. Honey, I'm sorry—

Quick Benja untwiss the jar an hurl mustard all over his shirt. Erma gasps, everybody go quiet. Aaron look down at the mess, up at Benja, down at the mess, up at Benja. Then turn, walk away.

That oughta earn me a broke wrist, she says. Worth it.

Hello hello! My mother. Looky what I brought!

Peach cobbler. Holdin it out for everbody to see but I note her special quick glance to me. What I wisht she brought was a spare mustard as I am not much of a fan a burger with ketchup.

 

13

It's six in the mornin.

I know.

How come you all dressed? Nobody gettin there till seven.

Thought I stroll by early.

What for?

I dunno. Since I got laid off from the mill don't get much of a chance to greet the dawn no more. Birds. Go back to sleep, I'll see ya after work tonight.

You wamme make you a egg?

Go back to sleep.

There is the birds an I stroll the ten minutes to the high school. I was here, inside, once. Visitation Day, the eighth grade. Preparin myself for a four-year educational career, an then who knows. College? Law school? Everthing seem a possibility, them days.

The school windas clear an sparklin, clean blackboards, ready for start a the year. I loved the firs day! Peek in. Inches below me I spy a texbook lyin top of a low bookshelf.
History of Western Civilization
. An now I remember that commitment I made to myself in April, that cookout at Lily's, start goin to the library. Forgettin about it till now pretty much clarify how empty that damn oath was.

I don't wanna get no hopes up but I count the days an this time two weeks longer than Erma ever held a baby before. I don't wanna jump to no conclusions but glance at her belly coulda sworn I spotted a bitty hump. Here's where he'd go to high school. Or she. She wanted to play basketball I'd be all for it. Him singin in the choir? My kids, I give em the freedom. Some days B.J. come over, their uncle take em out for cartoon movies.

Firs spark a sun peepin over that hill, now the rays spread everywhere. I gotta smile, why the sunrise always give that promise?

Yellin in the distance. Five men in a pickup. No, two men, three high school boys. So guess it's startin.

Don't know em but I greet em. One's drinkin, share the bottle with his son. It ain't yet 7 a.m.! They offer me but I say No, I gotta go to work. You can't drink an work? What
are
you, a surgeon? Yeah, I'm a neurosurgeon. Everbody laughs. Others driftin in, an the quiet an the birds give way to the day an this mutterin hullabaloo. This is not gonna happen an We gotta come together protect the children an Who they think they are? I see Benja in a group a other women. Smile ear to ear soon she spy me. Randall! I didn't think you'd really come! This is my brother Randall.

By 7:45 quite a crowd. A truckload suddenly pulls in in their checkered shirts. These ones riled up, mad, but in some way happy excited, chance to make a stand. Teachers startin to go in. They all disappeared into the buildin by eight, an by 8:15 the front schoolyard's jam-packed. Loud. I see a teacher lookin out from a second-floor odd wing winda an another from a firs-floor even.

At 8:30 sharp the light green station wagon pulls up, an they step out. Five of em, lookin clean an pressed an polite carryin book satchels. In the mornin chatter I heard they are seventeen, seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen. The fourteen is a girl, lookin even tinier than I was then an I was a runt. The one boy looks to be fifteen. They are black but the terror in their eyes make em seem all ghost white.

An here it comes.

Don't you goddamn step any closer!

Who the hell you think you are?

Nigger bitch, don't you even think about settin foot in this school!

Nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger!

The colored children are bein led by a grown-up colored woman an man in their thirties. The tiniest girl suddenly turn tail, run back to the car bawlin.

That's right, little Nigress, you
better
turn aroun!

The adult woman runs back for the girl. Then the five of em approach again slow, huddled together. The screamin so loud hard for me to make out individual words.

Then one voice so shrill it rise above the rest.
I don't care if it goddamn Brown or Black or High Yella versus the Board a Education, no niggers goin to school with
my
kids!

I turn to see that screamer is Margaret Laherty, who I didn't notice before. I wonder if this is good for that baby still swimmin aroun in her big ole belly.

The face a that black seventeen girl, tears streamin down but she don't stop she keep movin slow slow, my cheeks hot. The face a the white men an women, the grannies all hate, dark eyes an spit, I ain't never experienced a lynchin but these gotta be those faces, sure glad they leff their baseball bats at home. An somehow seem scarier n weapons. Hate like this don't need a gun.

Look like all the colored adults an kids got separated, the white parents yankin em apart, screamin in their faces the kids cryin Lemme go! the little fourteen-year-old tears Please! Please!

I'm starin between this girl an that boy an their colored man an colored woman, what kinda adults take these kids to their executions? An jus then out by all the parked cars I notice B.J. Leanin gainst his truck. What's
he
doin here? He ain't in the bulk a the crowd, standin jus outside of it, his face registerin somethin I ain't sure of.

A cry. The fifteen-year-old boy been tripped, his satchel flies. He reaches for it but somebody kick it away. He crawl for it an another one kick it again, all laughter. That boy crawlin wild, knees a his new pants torn, crawlin, bawlin—

STOP!

Everyone turn to me. Everything stop, everyone confused eyes on me so yes I guess I actually did say it out loud. With maybe the exception a my valedictory I ain't never had attention like this an it kinda funny the way they all with the open mouths an I don't know why, this chuckle escape me.

Randall!

Benja's eyes furious. Explain! her eyes say.

Jus let em get back to their car. They wanna go, jus let em go.

But everbody still, nobody move.

Yaw wanna go, right?

The grownups nod slow an tired, the kids nod fass an eager.

They wanna go, let em go.

The white folks back off. The coloreds start to move toward the station wagon. As they get closer a cheer suddenly erup from the crowd, like it jus hit em: the coloreds retreatin.

Tingle in my stomach, watchin their black selves movin away. Peace. Peace!
I
done it.
I
brought about a nonviolent solution for all, everbody listened to
me!

Make it to their vehicle. Everbody get in, kids in the back, the man at the wheel, woman front passenger. She the lass one, stand with the door open. Then turn around an say to alla us,

We'll be back tomorrow.

Roar from the crowd! an this n
not
happy. Fly to that car! The woman jump in, slam the door but before Mister can start the engine white men block the front, sittin on the hood, cover the entire windshield with their bodies, that car goin nowhere. The colored girls wailin again that dumb bitch! That goddamn dumb black bitch
why?
Couldn't she a held her goddamn smartass tongue till they pulled away? Why'd she have to say
any
thing? If you're stupid enough to come back tomorra, why ya gotta announce it? Well,
I
won't be here!
That
dumb, go ahead. Come back tomarra get yourselfs killed, an those poor colored kids with ya,
I
won't be here to save ya!

An someone with a hammer crash the windshield, the colored man an woman leap to the seat behind, the kids in the far back leap ahead, all seven huddled screamin in the middle seat a that station wagon an what's nex happen so fass I'm starin right at em an miss it. So fass the white men on the car misses it, this other white man. This other white come up to the coloreds nobody notice, just another white man joinin in the fun but nex thing we know the whole goddamn colored car is emptied an like lightnin the bed a the white man's truck fulla the whole entire colored gang an he's drivin away, the white man's drivin away, B.J.'s drivin the coloreds away! Takin em all gone, outa our reach! The white men still on the colored car all gapin, open mouth. By the time they register it a mad scramble to go after em, but there's mass confusion with all the boxed-in vehicles an by the time somebody finally fine their own car, key in the ignition B.J. an company's long gone.

RANDALL!

Benja about to burst a vessel in her head.

Go after him!

An do what?

You see what B.J. jus did?

I come on foot, Benja! You wamme to run after that truck on foot?

She get close enough only the two of us hear. This reflects on our family. They're all lookin at our family.

Shut up!
an I storm away.

Go on over to Ma's, it's nine-twelve, still got a little time till work.

Oh Randall! I'm so glad you're here, you wamme make you a egg?

No I gotta go to work. Why ain't B.J. at the mill?

This week he traded with somebody, he's doin second shift. I don't know why, he never has to—

You tell B.J. drop by my work, you tell him I gotta talk to him.

Alright. But now stay for jus one cuppa coffee, it's all ready—

Tell him what I said!
an I'm out the door.

Diane an Brenda Jean better stay outa my way, all I gotta say. An Mr. Martin, god
dam
mit! Why didn't that fool jus get in the car an go? That black bitch fool. An B.J. What the
hell'd
he think he was doin? I'm sweaty, a little dirty for sales work, god
dam
mit!

I walk in the store
ting-a-ling
an there they all stan starin at me.

Then applaudin.

We heard all about it, Randall. You was a hero!

You
tried
to tell those niggers. Help those niggers. Well. What can ya do?

They ain't comin back. From what I heard they was damn sure outnumbered. I think it's awful, grown woman like that leadin them little children—

I'm all for separate but equal. But they jus ain't never satisfied.

While the ladies chatterin Mr. Martin jus gazin at me. Smilin. Then I note he carryin a bakery sack.

Went to Orloff's for buttermilk pie. Little celebration.

It's slow so we lounge in the back, chewin.

You really think they comin back tomorra? Brenda Jean wanna know. She like my mother's age, goes to our church. Been workin Martin's Shoes twenty-seven years, Diane eleven.

Be crazy if they did. Lick my fingers, the mad melted all outa me.

Well they crazy to wanna innegrate in the firs place, says Diane. I think that damn nigress jus had to get the lass word in, that's it. All hot air.

An once they get in, then they want everything, says Brenda Jean. It's
football,
tackle
football,
who wanna have to touch a nigger? An is that fair to the visitin team? Where's Mr. Martin?

He went to the bank, says Diane. Why you think they doin all this anyway? Thinkin they white. They ain't white!

Ting-a-ling.
Brenda Jean an Diane race to the floor, eager for the customer. Then Diane peep her face back in, the curtain dividin the floor from storeroom.

Randall?

I'm confused, but go out to see.

There stan B.J. Both the women dead quiet which tell me they heard all about that too. I move toward him. The ladies mill aroun, pretendin they oh so busy.

What the hell you do? I sign.

He jus stare at me.

I
said
What you
do?

You saw.

It was nunna your business!

He stares.

You think niggers should go to a white school?

I don't like mobs. I wasn't going to watch them get killed.

You think niggers should go to a white school?
My arms wild, the ladies glance my direction.

I don't like mobs. I wasn't going—

This reflects on our family! They're all lookin at our family!

There's a board loose in the porch floor, Ma asked me to fix it. I'm going now—

No!
You defend
them, I
couldn't go to that school but you let
niggers?

I
couldn't go to that school.

You're
deaf,
B.J.! How the hell you gonna go to school? You're
deaf
playin dumb, hard head, I could
kill you!

B.J. turns to walk out the door. In my head ain't I callin on the Lord, Oh my God oh my God I can't believe, can't believe.

Grab him. Tight by the waist, Don't you walk away from me! Yellin now even if he can't hear it,
Don't you walk away from me!

But like no effort B.J. throw me off. We ain't never fought like this. I was his little brother, he was my little brother. Now B.J. tall like a tree, never occurred to me before he got the physical strength come with it. He stare at me, then turn to walk on down the street.

I storm out onto the sidewalk, almost follow him. Then I turn aroun, go back inside, nobody on the floor. Back to the storeroom, Diane an Brenda Jean starin.

Mr. Martin back from the bank, sittin at his desk, looks up.

Mr. Martin I'm sorry to disturb you but I gotta make a phone call I gotta make a very important personal phone call—

An quicker n I expect he shove his chair away an walk out, not mad but jus to gimme what I need. Yesterday I was his rotten seller on probation but like defendin segregation I'm owed new respect, for the day.

Hello?

I went after him. I had to go to work but I told Ma send him to the store an he come an I talked to him. Stubborn! He won't budge won't admit he's wrong. But I talked to him.

Okay.

A toddler cryin in the backgroun which she ignore.

Anything else? she finally say.

You okay?

Yeah, soundin like she shruggin. I wait. Yeah! Whatta ya mean?

Jus wanted to make sure you okay. Jus checkin.