Читать книгу The Bernice L. McFadden Collection - Bernice L. McFadden - Страница 32
ОглавлениеIn 1955, that boy came from Chicago down here to spend the summer with his mama’s people. They called him Bobo, but his given name was Emmett.
He arrived with a few casual clothes, one suit, one tie, and a white shirt that was one size too small and frayed around the collar. His black Sunday shoes were scuffed at the toe and veined with cracks. His pride and joy was a pair of brand-new navy blue Converse sneakers that his mother had saved three months to buy.
He was brown and stout with full cheeks and a generous belly that jiggled when he laughed. His ears were long and the lobes were curved upward. He wasn’t anything Padagonia would look at, but Tass was head over heels.
“That boy don’t even know you exist.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“He does too, I saw him looking at me just the other day.”
“What day was that? Where was I?”
“You were wherever you were and we were someplace else.” Tass giggled at her wit.
Padagonia crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth. The two laughed until Padagonia’s mother stepped out onto the slanted porch and tapped the broom handle against the wooden door jamb.
“You out here playing the fool while I’m in the house working like a slave?”
Their eyes swept across Willie Tucker’s gnarled toes.
“Well, what you waiting for?” Willie admonished. “Get the hominy grits out your ass!”
Padagonia sulked into the house.
“And you, Miss Ting-a-ling, I’m sure you got some chore you need to be tending to, don’t you?”
Tass didn’t, but she nodded her head and said, “Yes, ma’am.” And scurried across the road to the house that her mother owned, free and clear.
By the time Padagonia finished her chores, the sun had taken on a tangerine color. Tass was sitting on the bottom step of her porch biting her fingernails. When she saw Padagonia emerge, she jumped to her feet and bounded across the road.
Hemmingway’s face appeared behind the gray mesh screen of the door. “Girl, where you going?”
“To the store!” Tass hollered back as she and Padagonia double-timed it down the road.
The front yard of Moe Wright’s home was a cemetery of rusted cars, bicycle frames, and the metal guts of farm machines. Emmett was seated on the edge of the porch, the blue jeans he wore were rolled up to his knees, and his bare feet were covered in Mississippi mud dust. He was chomping on a slice of sweet pink watermelon.
The girls stepped into the yard and Padagonia called, “Hey, Bobo,” in that singsong fashion girls are partial to using.
Emmett looked up and they could see that his chin was glistening with watermelon juice. He nodded at them and winked.
Padagonia strolled into the yard and was a full five strides from Emmett before she realized that Tass wasn’t at her side. “Come on, Tass,” she urged with a flip of her hand.
Tass could not move. The nod was expected, but the wink he’d added unraveled her.
“Come on,” Padagonia said again.
But Tass did not take a step. Instead, she bashfully dropped her chin to her chest and focused her attention on the bright red polka dots that covered her shirt.
Padagonia sighed and skipped ahead. When she reached the porch, she scaled the steps and proceeded to knock noisily on the door. “Mr. Wright! Mr. Wright!”
“He gone to town.”
Emmett’s voice dripped Midwestern nectar. Padagonia kept knocking, just so she could hear him say it again.
“Hey, girl, I said he ain’t home, they gone to town.”
“Oh,” Padagonia cooed coyly before clomping across the porch and plopping down next to him.
Tass was trying hard to mask her jealousy, but even from where Padagonia sat, she could see the rush of steam streaming from Tass’s nostrils.
Padagonia chuckled and beckoned Tass once again:
“Come on!”
Tass turned and gave Padagonia her back.
“What’s wrong with her?” Emmett asked as he tossed the rind down to the ground.
Padagonia shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno, I guess you make her nervous.”
Emmett looked Padagonia full in the face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah!” Padagonia shouted as she leapt from the porch and kicked the rind across the yard. “See you later.” She darted back to Tass and whispered, “You better stop acting the fool ’fore that boy start thinking something wrong with you.”
Tass sucked her teeth and started walking away. Padagonia fell into step beside her.
“Did you have to sit so close to him?”
Padagonia stopped and laughed. “What you say, Tass Hilson?”
Tass kept walking. “Did he say anything about me?”
“Yeah, he said you a few eggs short of a dozen!”
Tass turned horrified eyes on her friend. “He said that?”
Padagonia giggled. “Nah, girl, I’m just pulling your leg.”
“Oh.”
Padagonia stooped down and plucked a dandelion from the blanket of grass that bordered the road. “Here.”
Tass offered her a lopsided grin. “Thanks.” She took the weed and slipped it into her hair. “How do I look?”
“Like the cutest little country girl in Money, Mississippi.”
To Tass, Emmett was everywhere and present in all things. He was all over her mind, pressed into the seams between the floorboards, glowing amidst the stars, and there in the sweet swirl of sugar, milk, and butter in her morning bowl of farina.
Who knows why some fall victim to love so easily?
Tass was smitten from the very first time she laid eyes on Emmett. There was something about his smile and the way he talked; he had magnetism about him that she had never encountered before.
In the three weeks he’d been here, Emmett had barely said more than hi and bye to Tass. But it didn’t matter, she had parlayed those words into reams of conversation that she played out in the privacy of her bedroom.
One afternoon, she draped her hair comb in a dingy white rag and tied a tattered black shoelace around the neck of her hairbrush. She spouted a few silly words of love and then declared, “I do!” as she brought the comb and brush together in a passionate kiss.
Hemmingway had been watching from the doorway. When she stepped into Tass’s bedroom her eyes were sparkling with amusement.
“What in the world are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Tass offered ashamedly.
“Child, you silly enough for two people. Put that comb and brush back on my dresser.”
Tass did as she was told and then headed outdoors where Padagonia was just crossing the road to fetch her.
“Mama gave me ten cents, said we can split it,”
Padagonia announced, and the best friends set out for Bryant’s grocery store.
Outside the store, at the center of a circle of fawning girls, was Evelyn Hall. Evelyn’s mother lived in New York City and sent her crinoline skirts and patent-leather shoes which her grandparents allowed her to wear any day of the week she chose.
When Evelyn looked over and saw Padagonia and Tass approaching, she flicked her shiny Shirley Temple curls and waved.
“Hey, Padagonia! Hey, Tass!”
The circle parted and Tass and Padagonia stepped in.
“What you got?” Padagonia asked, pointing to the heavy brown paper bag Evelyn clutched in her hand.
“Gum balls, lemon drops, lollipops, Mallo Cups, and licorice.”
Padagonia and Tass exchanged glances.
“All of that?” Tass breathed in awe.
“Yeah, my mama sent me a whole dollar.”
Padagonia’s eyes popped. “A whole dollar?”
“Yep, she got a new daddy for me. A new rich daddy,” Evelyn said as she playfully twirled a greasy curl around her index finger.
As far as Tass had heard, this was the third new daddy Evelyn’s mother had acquired that year.
“Oh, well, that’s nice,” Padagonia said, and tugged her friend toward the store. “Come on, Tass.”
Evelyn held up her bag of sweets. “Y’all could have some of mine if you want.”
“Really?” Tass beamed and reached for the bag.
Padagonia slapped her hand away. “Thanks, but we have money.”
Tass glared at her. “But she offered—”
“We don’t need her charity,” Padagonia retorted between clenched teeth.
“Suit yourself then,” Evelyn said with a smirk.
The circle around Evelyn closed and the poorest of the poor greedily held out their hands for a piece of her sweet charity.
Inside the store the ceiling fans whirled noisily. Tass and Padagonia floated from one candy-filled fish bowl-shaped jar to the next.
Carolyn Bryant, the wife of the storeowner, closed the comic book she was reading and asked, “Y’all know what you want?”
“Lemon drops,” Tass piped.
“Wait a minute now,” Padagonia said as her eyes continued to skip over the jars. “I’m still deciding.”
Tass pressed her fists defiantly into her hips and pronounced, “I’m done deciding. I don’t have to wait on you. A nickel of that dime is mine.” She turned to Carolyn and said, “May I have five cent worth of lemon drops, please?”
As the woman strolled over to the jar of lemon drops and unscrewed the lid, the door opened and the August heat slipped in alongside a jagged slab of sunlight. Emmett, along with a cousin and a friend, walked in.
Tass sucked air and stepped quickly behind a broad wooden beam.
The boys acknowledged Padagonia and raised a friendly hand to Carolyn, who responded with a “Hey, boys.”
They went to the cooler and retrieved three bottles of Coca-Cola, and then each of them placed a nickel on the counter and started toward the door.
A jar of pickles caught Emmett’s eye and he doubled back to the counter to take a closer look. After a moment of close examination, he swiped his hand across his forehead and let off a long, shrill whistle. “Those are some gargantuan pickles!”
Tass had never heard the word gargantuan. Unable to contain herself, she popped out from her hiding place and asked, “What that mean?”
Emmett turned around and grinned. “That means really big.” His gaze floated back to the jar. “I believe I would like to have me one of them gargantuan pickles!”
“I ain’t never in my life heard someone whistle like that,” Carolyn snickered as she unscrewed the top from the jar and stuck her hand inside.
Emmett made a face. “Ain’t you got nothing to fish it out with?”
Carolyn kept reaching. “Nope, just my fingers.” She pinched a pickle between her thumb and forefinger. “Got it!”
Emmett rocked back on his heels and whistled again. “That sure nuff is a big sucka though!”
Carolyn giggled and nodded her head in agreement. “Where you learn to whistle like that?” she asked as she wrapped the pickle in wax paper and handed it to him.
“Back home. Chicago,” Emmett proudly replied as he reached for the pickle. “How much?”
“Two cents.”
Carolyn couldn’t help but notice the large ring on Emmett’s finger. “Is that real silver?”
Puffing his chest out like a blowfish, Emmett declared, “Yes, ma’am, it is.”
Carolyn leaned in and squinted at the letters:
May 25
1943
LT
“You LT?”
“LT stands for Louis Till. That’s my daddy.” His words carried the slightest hint of sadness. “Was my daddy. He was killed in the war.”
“Oh,” Carolyn said without offering any condolences.
When Emmett stepped out of the store, his cousin yelled, “’Bout time!”
Tass and Padagonia followed and Emmett asked if they were headed back home. The girls nodded.
“Well, we might as well all walk together then,” he said.
Evening was inching in and it brought with it a breeze that set the tree limbs to quivering and raised goose bumps on Tass’s bare arms.
The group walked along in silence. Tass didn’t need any words, she was happy enough being in such close proximity to Emmett and breathing the same air.
At the bend in the road they bid their goodbyes.
“See ya.”
“Okay, bye.”
The boys went left and Padagonia and Tass went right.
Padagonia glanced over at Tass and saw that her face was plastered with a wide foolish grin. She slapped her playfully on the shoulder and then sprinted away singing, “Bobo and Tass, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!”
