The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter (35 page)

Aaron's mouth fall wide open. An defyin any logic he turn the aim back on B.J., tryin again.
Click. Click. Click.

Then he turn toward the door, like embarrassed.

In a second B.J. got him, slap Aaron's right palm down on the kitchen table, then slam that pistol hard into it
slam slam slam
, Aaron screamin. When B.J. through Aaron raise up that bloody thing use to be a hand, starin at it. Then Aaron turn, walk out the door, through the yard. My brother an me follow but stay on the porch. A neighborhood crowd all gathered by now, I see no Sugar nor kids so thank God she musta took em somewheres. Aaron get in his car, start it up. His leff hand on the steerin wheel, he pull out, slow an gentle, on down the road.

B.J. turn back into the house lookin tired.

You think it's all over? Bastard's gonna
kill
you.

B.J. see my signin, then look down to count the cash in the wallet like I ain't said nothin. Guess ain't enough leff after Aaron been to the bars all weekend, B.J. pull out his own wallet, add some dollars to it. I slap his arm.

Hey!

He look up.

What happens when he takes all this out on Benja?

Somethin breaks. Now somethin crushin on B.J., lookin like a loss little boy, like he made a terrible mistake.
Yeah,
maybe you shoulda thought a that, I say an sign, but his face down, an I know he seein in his head Benja an her broke bones in the hospital. Or the morgue. I fly outa there. I gotta get home an clean up God I jus hope Erma's still in her damn mood, still in her damn room cuz seein her pitiful face is just about the lass thing I need right now.

Dammit! Why's he always gotta undercut me?
I
wanted to kick Aaron's ass! But a course B.J. get there first, B.J. the one put the fear a God in Aaron. An everbody
said
I was the hero at the school, but then B.J. got to come, ruin it all. An no shame! Always thinkin he's in the right, no matter nobody else feel that way.

Soon's I'm in my door there she stand. Mr. Martin called all hoppin mad! You ain't at the voter registration! He give you the day off an you didn't even show up! Then he. What
happened
to you? You got blood all over your. Randall. Where ya goin?
Randall! Where ya goin?

My head bout to explode, countin the church bells. Ten. Ten o'clock, how the hell he know I
ain't
showed? Courthouse opened just a hour ago, an he jus got to work hisself, wait. Unless he went over there before work to check. God
dam
mit he got up early, went over there before work to check up on me!

Bout two hundred niggers in line. Hot as hell already, no shade for em, an they look like they been here a while. Dressed like Sunday, like they bein job-interviewed for some goddamn executive position. Some of em wearin a
coat,
sweatin. Standin with em's what looks like a few professionals, nigger North lawyers stirrin up mess no doubt. In the white faction which is all men, there ain't nearly the crowd as there was for the school, an things don't seem so tense. I didn't know better I'd say the colored
an
the white lookin kinda bored.

Except my entrance on the scene seem to shake things up a bit. The white men look at me funny. So does one or two a the niggers. Then I remember I never got to wash myself, blood an all.

Well they can jus stare cuz I ain't explainin a goddamn thing. How long everbody been here?

Some a
them
been here since seven, he tell me, lookin at the coloreds.

Any of em get in?

Couple. But you better believe they got turned aroun empty-handed, ain't none of em gettin registered.

Pretty early to be in the bars, mutters somebody to his friend, but really talkin to me.

I go right up in his face. Twiced my size but don't he take a step back. You smell any alcohol on me? I ain't been to no goddamn bar.

Some ole auntie come outa the courthouse then, face scrunched up, lookin ready to spit nails. A chubby man giggles.

Guess she flunked the test, says Fatty.

What test? I ask.

The test ya gotta pass to register.

Rack my brain. I don't recall takin no test when I registered to vote.

What
test?

Well, it varies, says he, this crooked smile. Then cuz he can't hold it no longer: How many pine needles on a Christmas tree? An he whoop an holler. Some a the others join him, though too hot an too early to laugh too hard. There's blacks also hears the joke. They frown but don't look our direction.

Randall Evans.

I turn aroun. Man about my age. Over six feet, near tall as B.J. Dark hair, mustache. A beer-sipper an it barely past ten but he don't appear drunk. Grinnin huge.

You don't remember me?

Oh look, says Fatty. That ole auntie tryin to protest to the cop. This oughta be good!

Francis Veter.

I stare at Francis Veter. I ain't got a clue.

I seen you at that cross-burner lass summer, he says only half confidential.
Surprised
to see ya. Figured you gone on to college.

Another nigger musta got in cuz the entire line take one step forward while my brow furrows, tryin to work out who the hell standin before me.

Well you was the firs debate team!

I almost trip backwards.
Debate
team? Who the hell recall
that?

Still remember your rebuttal. Hawaii. I didn't know what the hell you was sayin! but I sure knowed we shoulda beat St. Mary's.

My mouth open all bafflement, an him all starry-eyed like we talkin bout the days I quarterbacked the football championship.

An then the valedictorian. Can't
believe
you didn't go on, higher education. Course if ya had prolly you'da moved away. Wouldn'ta been here to do what you done at the school. I was there.

Oh,
you was the one at the school, says somebody. Another nods some kinda polite acknowledgment, but it all ole news now.

You still don't remember me! No wonder. We sure ain't never shared no classes. Well I was two years ahead but even if we
was
same age I scarcely cracked a book, barely made it through the sixt. Then dropped out.

My head dizzy. My father died, I quit school an went to work—same ole story. That's all people thinks a me, who the hell else outside my family recall valedictorian? An spite of it all I'm brought back: lookin out, seein Benja an Ma in the graduation audience smilin all pride. An Pa. An B.J.

That speech you give, with everyone smack in the pain a war? Brought a tear. We all felt it.

B.J. who reads every book he can get his hans on never set foot near a school till my graduation. An there in the audience grinnin, like my valedictory's the happiest day a my brother's life.

I seen you before all that but you didn't know. Well how couldja? I was in my robe. Francis Veter grins, an speaks softer. We was Klan kids together, remember? I spied you at a midnight meetin once.

I gotta go, I say to Francis Veter. I gotta check in at my workplace.

Oh, okay. Hey, listen, Randall, we should talk about things. Nex steps, ya know? He glances hard at the coloreds in line, then back to me. You in the phone book?

I'm walkin, my back to him but my head nods. Glance up my way out, I see some ole uncle exitin the courthouse, rantin an a-ravin. The cops make a move toward him.

Oh he musta got question number two! I hear Fatty sayin. Where does a hula-hoop begin an end?

Ting-a-ling.
There's Brenda Jean an Diane both with lady customers, an all four look up at me, mouths wide. Shit, I keep forgettin I ain't cleaned myself up!

Mr. Martin come flyin from the back. Out.

Mr. Martin, I can explain this mornin—

OUT!

I go back out on the sidewalk, wait for Mr. Martin to come talk. But I hear clickety-click, turn aroun to see he's locked the door! With customers in there!

I storm roun the block. Who the hell he think he
is?
I been workin there near three months, I deserve a hearin. I deserve a hearin!

Go home. There she is, bawlin. He said you don't even need to come back! He jus called, said he'd mail your lass paycheck to ya!

Oh I'm goin back, says I not stoppin head right for the bathroom shut the door.

Whadju say?

I turn on the sink, start scrubbin.

Whadju say?

I get all nekked for a deep cleanin. When I'm washed off, I open the cabinet door meer so it faces the toilet. Look at my face. Stand on the toilet I see my torso my privates. Partial view a my hairy legs. Not bad.

By the time I get back to the store it been unlocked an I go right in
ting-a-ling
. No one in the adult half, Diane arrangin a display in Martin's Children's. With the door ring her an Brenda Jean both race to adult shoes. Stop real short when they see who it is.

Oh hi Randall. Diane all nervous.

Where's Mr. Martin?

Jus then he come out. You need to go on home, Randall. I already called your wife about the arrangements.

Arrangements?
He think I'm
dead?

Mr. Martin, I deserve a hearin.

I don't think you do.

My sister's in the hospital! Her husband. Somethin happened, I had to take her to emergency.

I'm sorry to hear that but—

An then I
did
go to the voter registration! After no sleep all night I went, an there ain't nothin goin on! Bunch a niggers standin in line for hours jus to get rejected! There ain't gonna be no trouble, Mr. Martin. I figured I'd be doin more good at work here than jus standin there. Since you promised to pay me for the day's trouble anyway.

Well whether you there or here seem like you still expect me to pay you to
not
sell shoes.

Like I can
feel
my pupils dilatin.

Go on home, Randall. Until today you been a very pleasant young man, I'll give you a good recommendation for your nex job. Long as it's not sales.

I look at him an Brenda Jean an Diane all starin, goddamn pity in them women's eyes. I turn toward the door.

I hear they're hirin out at the chicken farms, he says to my back. Slaughterin the hens. They train ya, you don't need any skills—

I'm throwin the display shoes at em, the high heels an slippers an espadrilles, rain rubbers an boots. All of em duckin runnin screamin, I clear all the shoes off the shelves fass, shoes everywhere, then I pull the damn shelves down too! The store a mess in seconds, like a hurricane an the lass thing I do is take off my own goddamn Martin's wingtips an hurl em at the store owner himself.

Stormin down the street in my stockin feet I don't know nor care where to go nex. Then I hear the distant siren an know that's one decision I won't have to worry about makin.

Nappin. When I wake dark out, there sets some kinda gruel, cold now. I eat it, lick the tin plate shiny till I see myself. Lookin a damn mess again. Guess I was a teeny bit resistant to the arrestin officers an got a teeny bit banged up for it. In the reflection I glimpse somethin dark an familiar in the cell nex door.

That ole uncle twas throwin a fit at the voter registration. He stare straight ahead, his face all rage, like I was feelin. But the nap suck most a my fury out.

Now a young colored in a suit let in by the guard, who clearly jus been woke up from his own siesta. The attorney an the ole uncle speaks in low voices, an I catch enough syllables from the younger to definitely reckonize Yankee. Then he walkin away, right past my cell.

Hey!

He keep walkin.

Hey! I
ain't got no lawyer!

He keep walkin. The guard snickers.

Whatchu in for, uncle? Nothin, he gimme nothin. An I know that ole man ain't deaf way he was whisperin with the nigger in the suit, why the hell everyone ignorin me?

Now the lawyer returns with the sheriff.

Let him out.

The guard starin at the sheriff.

Let him
out?

His bail was jus posted, open the cell.

He was resistin arrest!

I turn to the ole one. Now I see. The black eye, bloody chest. That arm look broke.

That's for the judge to decide, now unlock the goddamn door, Jesse.

Jesse does an the ole codger is thus released. The nigger attorney lettin him lean on him.

This is not the way we usually do things here, Jesse says.

An for the firs time the lawyer say somethin, mutterin: I bet some of it is. His eyes on his client's bruises.

What did you say?
Jesse's eyes narrowin.

Hey! I ain't seen
my
lawyer! I ain't made no damn phone call!

Yes you did, says the sheriff. You jus don't remember.

I stare at him, an for a second I wonder if I
did
make a phone call an forgot. As they's all filin out, I notice the lawyer glance in my direction, finally givin me two cents. Lookin down: my stockin feet. Disappearin down the hall.

I ain't no indigent! That damn sheriff tryin to make like I am, I ain't drunk! You know what kinda day I had? My sister beat to bits by her bastard husband an the cops do
nothin, I
had to find her on the floor lookin like put through the shredder!
I'm
the one taken her to the hospital
the cops do nothin,
then I get
fired
for my trouble! I threw those goddamn shoes at Martin's head, I'd do it
again!
Come back here! You listened to
him, I
got a story to tell!
I
got a story to tell!

Ten minutes pass. Twenty. An finally the sobs breakin through, sad sobs but I take my forehead, bang it gainst the see-ment wall, turn em into mad sobs. By the time I see blood on the bricks, no tears left.

I'm back at Benja's, repeat a this mornin, Aaron comin at B.J.'s back with the pistol. B.J. turn aroun, show the bullets in his hand. Aaron shoots.
Bang!
One bullet left in the cylinder, right to B.J.'s heart. B.J. look surprised, starin down at the hole in his chest. Then fall down, gone.