The Darkest Child (27 page)

forty - four

T
he furniture store was a total loss, the two adjacent structures had sustained considerable damage. There was a wide open space where the Market Street Café had once stood, and only a cement slab as a reminder of the Pioneer Taxicab Company. For days we had been locked out of town, not knowing what to expect, and even after the barricades came down, I was leery of Market Street. But my mother needed stockings from the five-and-dime, and she had sent me to get them since, to her way of thinking, it was my fault she had to dress up for a meeting with “them goddamn snooty school people.”

“Do I look awright, Tangy Mae?” she asked for the third time as she parked the car on the school lot.“Wonder what this is all about? I bet they gon’ ask me if you can come back next year. I already got in my mind what I’m gon’ say.You ain’t going, and that’s final.”

I would have asked her why we had come, but looking at my mother, I knew the answer. She had come to flaunt her beauty. It had taken her nearly two hours to dress for this meeting, and she looked absolutely stunning. She wore a brown tunic suit with tiny pink dots and pink cuffed sleeves, leather pumps, and a faille hat with a single pink feather.

We got out of the car, and she held my arm, preventing me from moving forward, as we watched an assemblage of parents and teachers enter the school. It was the presence of four white men entering the schoolyard from the street that caused my mother to reach up and snatch a bug from her lovely face.

“Tangy Mae, what you done went and done?” she asked.

“Nothing, Mama,” I answered, but I could tell she did not believe me.

I lingered outside with Edith Dobson and Coleman Hewitt, our principal’s son.We spoke to Reverend Nelson as he went in, then we looked at each other questioningly.

“What’s this meeting all about, Coleman?” Edith asked.

Coleman was a short, pimply-faced boy, the firstborn of the four Hewitt children. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and avoided making eye contact with Edith. “They’ll tell us when they’re ready,” he said.“I’m not suppose to say anything until then.”

There were three other students in the yard with us: Larry Weston, Philip Ames, and Harold Brandon. They were staring at the charred, skeletal remains of what would have been our new school. Edith nudged me and I followed her across the yard.

“It’s a mess, isn’t it?” she said.“Daddy says it’s not Sam’s fault. He doesn’t blame your brother at all. He says they kept Sam in jail for no reason, and they can do that to any colored man and get away with it. He says it’s time somebody showed them that we’re not going to stand for it.”

“But somebody could have been killed in one of those fires,” I said.“We’re lucky no one was.”

“Do you think it’s over?”

“No.They’ve let us back into town, but I don’t think it’s over. I do think people are beginning to see what Hambone was talking about.”

“Daddy doesn’t think it’s over, either,” Edith said. “He’s afraid somebody’s gonna get hurt. He’s an undertaker, but he doesn’t want people to die unless it’s from old age. Mama says with ideas like that he’ll die old and poor himself.”

“Edith, do you know what this meeting is about?”

“A little.”

I heard my name called and I turned to see my mother storming across the school’s short wooden porch and nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to reach her car.

“Come on, Tangy Mae!” she snapped. “Get in the car!”

“What happened, Mama?” I asked, as I raced along beside her.

“What happened? I’ll tell you what happened,” she said. “You done outsmarted yo’self this time.They sitting in there planning to send you to that white school next year.They say you intelligent, you carry yo’self like a proper young lady, and you the somebody gon’ integrate that school.” She laughed bitterly. “I ain’t buying none of it.They wanna take you away from me.That Mr.Pace of yours always wanted to take you away. I told ’em to kiss my ass ’cause you ain’t going to that school. They can find another guinea pig. Them Dobsons feel the same way ’bout they daughter, but they foolish. They gon’ sit there and let them people talk ’em into it. Not me.”

I was not frightened by the speed or recklessness with which my mother drove. Disappointment had rendered me numb, and I blamed myself for not preparing her.Over the weeks, I could have given her some subtle hints. But I realized that the outcome probably would have been the same.

Mama turned into the Garrisons’ driveway and parked behind Mr. Frank’s car.“Pearl, you ain’t gon’ believe this,” she said, as soon as Mr. Frank opened the door. “Give me a drink and let me tell you ’bout it.You ain’t never gon’ guess what them school people wanted wit’ me.”

Miss Pearl eyed me, then said, “Well, I know Tangy Mae wadn’t in no kind of trouble ’cause she ain’t the kind to be. I figure they want you to leave her in school another year.”

“In the white school, Pearl!” Mama shouted.“They want her to go to the white school. Now you know they must think I’m some kinda fool. They gon’ close town down ’cause they say one of my babies tried to burn it down, then they gon’ come back and say they want one of my babies to go to school wit’ theirs.”

“Slow down, Rozelle, ”Mr. Frank said.“I think them people paying you a compliment.We all know you got a smart girl there. What you think about it, Tangy?”

“She ain’t gotta think about it. She ain’t going and that’s that. They wanna send five mo’ children wit’ her. ‘Well-behaved children, so she don’t have to go by herself, ’” Mama said, mimicking someone from the meeting.“Tangy Mae gon’ get a job—or starve. She ain’t going back to school.”

She meant every word she said, but my mother was a liar. I remembered her telling me that people in Georgia did not get hungry, so how could I starve? She had said that I was not going back to school, but I was. I had to.

forty - five

I
t amazed me that Wallace could come and go as he pleased, and although Mama knew where he spent most of his nights, she didn’t make a second attempt to bring him home. Frequently, I caught her watching the road below our house, mumbling Sam’s name over and over again, but mostly she just sat on the porch and sucked up the sun.

I spent lazy summer days convincing myself that I no longer loved her, and it occurred to me that I could kill her and my seat in Hell would get no wider or warmer. Remorse sometimes got the best of me; then I prayed for forgiveness for having those evil thoughts.

On the occasions when Mama ordered me to the farmhouse, I went without protest, as did Tarabelle. At first I had objected, reasoning that Sam’s freedom should have also freed me, but my mother was an irrational woman who did not have to explain anything to me.

She sat on the porch now, smoking one cigarette after the other, watching Laura and Edna play in the yard.They played chase games and ball games. Laura had not touched a rope since the day Judy died, but at least her smile had returned.

“Della’s having a fish fry this evening,” Mama said. “That’s something we oughta do.We got enough space out there in the yard to hold a lot of people, and we could make some pretty good money.”

“We don’t have electricity, Mama,” I said. “Every fish fry I’ve ever been to had music playing.”

She laughed. “Well, we can get some batteries for the radio. Maybe I’ll move outta this house so I can have myself a fish fry.” She was talking crazy, but it was lighthearted crazy so I laughed along with her.

“Do you ever think about moving?” I asked.

“Once or twice I thought about it. But then I thought my children was gon’ turn out different. I thought by now half of y’all would be working and bringing in money. It’s hard on a mother to be disappointed like I been. Just look at what I got outta feeding and raising all y’all. Soon as Harvey could work, he took off. Mushy ain’t no good and never was. Sam running ’round trying to burn folks out, half the time I can’t find Wallace, and Tarabelle’s a fucking bull dyke.” She winked at me through her cigarette smoke. “You didn’t think I knew that, did you? Hope I’m in my grave befo’ folks ’round here figure out what she is. That’s one of them curses they ain’t got no spell to break.”

“What’s a bull dyke, Mama?”

“It’s a full-grown woman running ’round trying to grow a cock like a full-grown man. Trying to like other women. Don’t you know nothing, Tangy Mae? Least ways Tarabelle bring in money. I can say that much for her. I don’t know what to say ’bout you, but I know you ain’t gon’ keep sitting ’round here idle.”

Please, God, don’t let her start on me,
I silently prayed.Aloud I said, “Mama, do you want me to get you some bathwater?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m gon’ get on up there befo’ all the best fish gone. Hope Della got something besides whiting. Got me a taste for some perch.”

I readied a bath for my mother, then I joined Tarabelle and Mattie on the back porch. Tarabelle glanced at me, then turned to Mattie.“Mattie, go see if them clothes dry yet,” she said.

Mattie rose from her step and walked over to the lines.We watched as she ran her hands along the row of sheets. She didn’t say anything, just took the basket that had once belonged to Judy and began removing sheets, folding them, and placing them in the basket.

“Tan, can you remember the first time Mushy tried to leave?” Tarabelle asked.

I nodded.

“Mama had the sheriff go find her, then she beat Mushy and tied her to this rail for a whole week.” Tarabelle trailed a finger along the porch rail as she spoke.“Remember? That’s why Mushy waited so long befo’ she left. She waited all the way ’til she was eighteen so nobody couldn’t do nothing about it.”

“Is that what you’re planning to do?”

“Yeah. I figure ain’t nothing nobody can do after that. Mama can’t send the sheriff after me, and she can’t drag me home like she did po’ Martha Jean.Wonder why she ain’t sent the sheriff after Wallace?”

“There’s no reason to,” I answered.“Wallace is still bringing his pay home. When he stops doing that, she’ll probably send somebody to get him.”

“I hope he stops, ”Tarabelle said.“I’m leaving here next month. I’m taking me a room at Miss Shirley’s. She don’t need them rooms now that Max and Becky gone. She said I can have one, and I got me some money saved.You can have some, Tan, if you wanna run off.”

“I can’t run, Tara. I’ve thought about it, but I can’t leave Laura and Edna. Do you think Mama would make them go to the farmhouse if we weren’t here?”

“Yeah. She would, ”Tarabelle answered bitterly. “And some dog out there would be wit’ ’em, too.They wouldn’t even care that they just babies.”

“That’s why I can’t leave.”

“Well, I can, and I’m going to.”

“Does Miss Shirley know about you?” I asked.

“What about me?”

“Mama says you’re a bull dyke, that you’re running around trying to grow a thing like a man.”

Tarabelle made a sound like a sneeze.“To hell wit’ Mama!” she said.“She don’t know nothing ’bout me, and I ain’t gon’ spend the rest of my life taking care of her.”

“When do you intend to tell her that you’re leaving?”

“Never. She’ll just wake up one morning and I’ll be gone. I ain’t gotta tell her nothing after I turn eighteen. I used to hate you, Tan, ’cause you was so smart and I couldn’t be. And I used to hate you for staying here even when I knew you couldn’t leave.What good is being smart if all you can do is stay here?”

I glanced over at Mattie who had cleared one line and was working her way along another one. I could hear my mother calling me and knew she wanted me to empty her bathwater, but I ignored her. She finally gave up on me and began to call for Tara.

Tarabelle ignored her, too, and said, “Tan, you don’t read them books all the time no mo’. How come?”

“They made me dream.”

“Bad dreams?”

I shrugged.“Just dreams.”

Mattie started toward us with the basket on her hip. I watched her come and wondered if she was ever going to do anything about her hair. It looked awful.

“You wanna go to that white school, don’t you?” Tarabelle asked.When I did not answer her, she said, “I want you to go, too. But that’s a awful lotta people to have to fight, and you ain’t never been no good at fighting.”

forty - six

M
otten Street drew me outside the range of my mother’s voice on those hot summer days—not every day—but just as often as it dared, and sometimes I would take Laura and Edna with me to play hula hoop, hopscotch, or hide and seek. There were days when Mama forbade me to leave the house, but Motten Street would call and I could not resist. I would depart Penyon Road under the pretense of searching for work, and I would spend those days in Skeeter’s kitchen watching Mary Ann grow.

Skeeter loved to laugh and would try to make a joke of anything. I sat across from him at his kitchen table as he held Mary Ann on his lap.“Look at her,” he said.“She looks like a prune even when she’s sleeping. That’s why God gives babies a mama and daddy. Somebody gotta think they’re cute.You look at her and tell me if you see anything cute.”

“You’re lucky Martha Jean can’t hear you,” I said.

“Oh, I tell ’em all the time this a ugly baby.Watch this.”

He glanced over at Martha Jean who was washing dishes at the sink. He waited until she turned and he had her attention, then he made a face, raked his fingers across it, and pointed to Mary Ann. Martha Jean smiled, shook her head, and turned back to the sink.

“See,” Skeeter said.“She knows.Tell you what, you show me one cute thing on this little prune and I’ll let you hold her for a spell.”

I walked around the table and stood behind Skeeter to peer down at the baby.“Her nose,” I said. “It’s perfect.”

“Shoot.” Skeeter laughed.“You must be kidding.That’s Velman’s nose. Can’t even call it a nose.That’s a snout.”

“Her hair,” I said, anxious to hold my niece.

Skeeter pretended to study Mary Ann’s hair, then he looked up at me. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll give her that. She took hair after her mama.” He placed Mary Ann in my arms, then immediately rose from his chair and began to laugh. “Guess you get to change the diaper.That’ll probably be cute, too.”

“Skeeter,” I protested in mock anger.

I didn’t mind changing Mary Ann. I liked being alone with her. Her innocence was soothing to me, and I thought I would have liked to crawl inside her, to start life all over again. I took her into her parents’ room and changed her diaper, then closed my eyes and held her against my chest until she began to protest.

When I returned to the kitchen, Martha Jean was sitting at the table and Skeeter was shuffling a deck of cards.

“You wanna get in on this hand?” he asked.

“We don’t play cards,” I answered.“We don’t know how.”

“Who don’t?”

“We don’t.”

“Speak for yourself. Martha Jean plays.You want me to deal you a hand and teach you how?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s too hot to sit in a kitchen playing cards.Why don’t we go outside?”

“Who wants to go out there and have to listen to Melvin and Dot going at it like two bulldogs? I’d rather stay in here and be hot.”

The Tates had been arguing for close to an hour. By the constant changes in the level of their voices, I assumed they were taking their disagreement back and forth from the house to the yard. It was such a frequent occurrence on Motten Street that most people just ignored them.

“They the strangest two I know,” Skeeter said.“All Melvin wants to do is drink all day. I can’t understand it. He drinks anything he can get his hands on. It’s gonna kill him, too.” He held five cards in his hand and studied them, then said, “Here’s the funny thing about it. Melvin ain’t worked a job in years. Dot gives him the money to drink with, then when he gets drunk, she spends half the night and most of the next day fussing about it.The next morning she gives him money all over again.You tell me what sense that makes.”

“Maybe she wants him to drink himself to death,” I said.

“That’s what I think, too,” Skeeter agreed.“But if that’s the case, why fuss about it?”

Martha Jean placed five cards on the table and smiled at Skeeter. He looked at the cards, leaned back on his chair, and winked at her. “See,” he said. “She beats me about eight hands out of ten.”

Martha Jean went to the stove to check on her bread. Still holding Mary Ann, I went over to the back door and tried to catch a breeze. It was humid inside and out, and perspiration made my blouse stick to my back.

“Does Martha Jean ever make sandwiches?” I asked.“It’s too hot to be in a kitchen cooking.”

“Martha Jean does pretty much what she wants,” Skeeter said. “There be days when she won’t come near this kitchen. I be so glad when she do that I just come on in here and sit with her.Who you think wanna eat sandwiches?” He tapped his watch and signed, “Work.”

“I’ll walk with you,” I said, turning Mary Ann over to Martha Jean. “I’d better get on home.”

Skeeter and I were walking toward the railroad tracks when he spotted my mother’s car. I was not where I should have been, and I knew I was caught. The car rolled in our direction, and Skeeter pulled me out of the way just as the front tires hit the sidewalk.

“Get in this car, Tangy Mae!” Mama snapped.

“I thought that was you, Rozelle,” Skeeter said lightly, leaning down at her window.“You almost ran us over.”

“Go to hell, Skeeter. And get out my way.”

She was drunk. She and the entire car smelled of alcohol; it was not a pleasant ride. I found myself pressing my foot against the floor, trying to brake, as the car sped along the streets, barely missing poles, trees, and parked cars.

We had almost made it home when Mama stopped the car on the side of Fife Street. She opened her door and got out. I stared after her but turned my head when I saw that she was being sick right out in the open where people sitting on their porches could see her.

“Disgusting,” I mumbled.

She got back in the car and lit a cigarette. I would not look at her, but I heard her inhale, and I smelled the smoke as it circulated throughout the car and drifted out of my window.

“I heard what you called me, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it one damn bit,” she said, and attempted to press the burning tip of her cigarette against my thigh. I reached for the door handle, prepared to jump from the car. Sparks flew across the seat, and my mother swore and threw the cigarette from her window.

We made it home safely, and she parked the car in the field like a sane and sober person. She waited until we were inside before she told me why she had come looking for me.

“That damn Mr. Pace was out here today,” she said. “What’s going on between the two of y’all, Tangy Mae? He say they willing to give you pay if you go to that white school. I asked him how much he was willing to pay, but he wouldn’t tell me. So I told him you can’t go but he can see you out at Frances’s place any night he takes a notion.”

“No, Mama, you didn’t!” I cried, so mortified by her words that I did not realize I was pulling my own hair until Tarabelle reached out to stop me.

“‘No, Mama, you didn’t, ’”
my mother mimicked.“Yes, hell, I did, and I think he left here mad about something.Tangy Mae, I don’t want them school people coming to my house.” She lit another cigarette. “And you get yo’self cleaned up.You gotta make a run wit’ me.”

“I’ve got the curse, Mama,” I lied.

She shifted her gaze to Tarabelle. “Tarabelle, get yo’self cleaned up.”

“I got it, too, Mama, ”Tarabelle said and glanced at me.

Mama sat with her chin resting against her chest and said nothing. Finally, her head rose and she said, “Laura Gail, you got the curse, too?”

“What curse, Mama?” I heard my sister ask.“What’s a curse?”

Tarabelle and I glanced at each other.We had known, had even predicted this moment in time. “I’ll go,” I said.

My mother laughed.“You damn right, you’ll go,” she said.“You think you smart, Tangy Mae, but you the laziest, sorriest something I ever gave birth to.”

I went out to the woods and ran the length of the path as hard and fast as I could, then I returned to the house to scrub my lazy, sorry self for a trip to the farmhouse.