Читать книгу The Bernice L. McFadden Collection - Bernice L. McFadden - Страница 33
ОглавлениеMid-August served up a sweltering platter of heat that demanded that people wear as little as possible in the daytime and sleep damn near naked at night.
Tass and her friends spent their days frolicking in the cool waters of the Tallahatchie River. It was there at the river’s edge that Emmett finally took serious notice of Tass. She was splashing about with Padagonia and a few other girls. She didn’t own a bathing suit, so she was dressed in an old blue dress. Her hat of thick hair was drenched and matted on her head like a sponge. On this day, the sight of her moved something deep within in him that he didn’t know he owned.
Emmett dove beneath the surface of the water and frog-kicked his way to the circle of girls. He brushed his hands against their calves, and they jumped from the water squealing like rats.
When he reemerged he was laughing so hard, he snorted water through his nose.
“I hope you choke!” Padagonia screamed. “Damn fool!”
Emmett spat a glob of foamy saliva into the water. “Aww, come on, don’t say that!”
Padagonia gave him a hard look. Tass tried to do the same, but you know she couldn’t, on account of the way she felt about him.
Emmett raised his hands above his head. “Sorry. Okay? I’m sorry.”
After a while, Padagonia waded back in, past the place they’d been able to stand—out toward the center of the river where she had to tread water to stay afloat. Tass inched out as well, until the water caressed her waist, and then stopped.
“You ain’t coming any further?” Emmett asked.
“Can’t swim,” she said, and scooped up a handful of water and dribbled it down her face.
“I can teach you.”
Padagonia splashed him. “And by teach, do you mean drown?”
A chorus of laughter rose up from the group.
“Naw, that’s okay,” Tass stammered as she started back toward the riverbank.
Emmett followed her out and onto the grainy sand. He used his foot to clear away small pebbles and bits of broken tree limbs so that Tass could sit in comfort.
“Sorry I scared you,” he said, and lowered himself down to next to her.
Tass could barely contain her excitement. A scream slithered up her throat and she pressed her lips together to keep it inside.
Emmett reached for a twig and used it to carve a figure of a horse in the sand. When he was done, Tass pointed at the form and said, “Horses don’t have wings.”
“In my dreams they do.”
Tass chuckled. “Well, maybe you eating too many peaches before you go to sleep at night.”
Emmett laughed and raked his hands across the image. “I can draw anything, you just tell me what.”
A cat, a dog, old cock-eyed Mr. Henley—he depicted them all, perfectly.
“You draw really good.”
“If you think this is good, wait till I show you what I could do with a pencil and paper.”
“Who done these?”
“Emmett.”
Tass preferred the tidiness of Emmett to the clownish, absurd nickname.
“Who?”
“Bobo, Mr. Wright’s grandnephew.”
“Oh,” Hemmingway murmured in her throat.
Tass had tacked Emmett’s drawings on her bedroom wall. Drawings on butcher paper, lined composition paper, newspaper—any type of paper he could get his hands on. At Tass’s request he had drawn all sorts of magical things: winged pigs, unicorns, angels, and the buildings that made up the famous Chicago skyline.
Hemmingway folded her hands behind her back as she studied every drawing. There was one in particular that made her catch her breath. It depicted a river, and a man and woman—or a boy and girl—holding hands, their feet hovering just above the water.
Hemmingway was no Jesus freak, no Bible-beating Baptist, but something about that drawing felt sacrilegious to her and she tore it from the wall.
Tass gasped. “Mama!”
Hemmingway reeled around; her pupils were on fire. “Only Jesus walked on water,” she snarled.
“It’s just a picture, Mama. He didn’t mean to blaspheme.”
The force in her daughter’s voice snapped Hemmingway to attention and it was then that she saw the woman glowing inside of Tass.
“You certainly spend a lot of time with that boy,” Hemmingway said, and then hung the bait: “You like him like that?”
Tass blushed and stammered, “No!”
“Let me tell you something, Tass: boys his age only have one thing on their minds!” Hemmingway aimed the tip of her index finger at Tass’s groin. “You know like I know, you’ll keep that purse of yours closed until you say, I do. And if I find out that you even thinking of doing otherwise, I’ma tear your behind up!”
And with that, Hemmingway walked calmly from the room.
When Tass heard the soup pot hit the burner, and was sure that Hemmingway was out of earshot, she whispered under her breath, “Look who’s talking about purses and marriage.”
Later, as the small group convened on Moe Wright’s porch, Tass repeated her mother’s threats for her friends.
“Aww, Tass, don’t take it no kinda way,” Padagonia said without moving her eyes from the checkerboard. “She just don’t want you to go and get yourself in trouble like Verna did.” She then made a big show of triplejumping Emmett’s cousin Hank. “King me, nigger!” she cried triumphantly.
Hank shook his head in wonder. “How do you keep doing that?”
Emmett scratched his chin. “Verna? Who’s that?”
“You don’t know her. She used to live over near the Sheridan place, but her mama sent her to Philadelphia when she got in trouble.”
“Trouble?”
Padagonia placed her hand just below her breast and carved an invisible arch through the air. “Trouble.”
“Oh,” Emmett groaned, and then looked at Tass. “Your mama think … that me and you …”
Tass sucked her teeth. “Can we talk about something else, please?”
“King me!” Padagonia shouted again.
Hank jumped up and kicked the board off the milk crate, sending the black and white chips soaring into the air.
“Sore loser,” Padagonia huffed as she scrambled to gather the chips.
Hank stomped down the steps. “I’m going to the store.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s time,” Emmett said, and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers.
“See ya tomorrow then,” Padagonia responded, and then looked at Tass. “You ready?”
Hank blinked. “Y’all ain’t coming?”
“Ain’t got no money,” Tass said.
“Come on, I’ll treat,” Emmett offered.
At Bryant’s grocery store, Emmett bought them all ice pops with frozen gobstoppers in the center. Hank suggested that they have a contest.
“First one to get to the gobstopper wins.”
That was obvious, but the rules needed to be made supremely clear.
Licking. Only licking.
Biting was an automatic disqualification.
The first one to get to the gobstoppper would be declared the winner. The prize? The title of fastest licker in town.
They were just a few strides away from the store and already licking furiously on their ice pops when Carolyn Bryant stepped out onto the porch, pulled her chestnut hair off of her shoulders, and wrapped it into a loose knot.
Their easy laughter floated over to her and raised a smile to her lips. Maybe that’s why she called out to him, because he was young and carefree and she missed that part of her life. She was still young herself, just twenty-one—but married to a man who was rarely home, and when he was home, all he wanted to do was drink beer and fuck. They never went anywhere, not even to the movies or on a picnic.
Perhaps the sight of the group of young people immersed in play and not work or marriage made her nostalgic for her own days of freedom.
In her mind she screamed, I want to come along and play the licking game!
But that was impossible in the world she came from and the world she lived in.
So after tying her hair into a knot, Carolyn skipped out into the road, cupped her hands around her mouth, and hollered, “Hey! Do that whistle for me again, would you?”
And he did and the sound made Carolyn happy, it made her feel included in something free and forbidden.
Unfortunately, at that very moment a green Buick was rolling up the street. It slowed as it approached the group of teenagers. When it was upon them, the driver revved the engine and spun the wheels, creating a thick cloud of dust.
The teenagers covered their ice pops with their hands and backed away from the road. A moment later, the car screeched off and disappeared down the street.
The contest continued. Lick, lick, lick …
When they reached the bend, Emmett was the clear winner. He raised the purple gobstopper victoriously into the air. “I am the king!”
Hank laughed, and gave him a shove. “The title is fastest licker in town.”
“I think I should get a prize,” Emmett beamed.
“Ain’t nobody got nothing to give you, fool!”
“I think Tass got a prize for you, Bobo,” Padagonia teased.
Tass’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“Aww, man,” Hank cried, and threw his hands up into the air. “Y’all been giving each other googly eyes for days now. Just go on ahead and get it over with already!”
Emmett feigned ignorance. “Get what over with?”
“Just kiss her! You know you want to!” Padagonia shrieked with impatience.
“W-what?” Tass uttered again.
Emmett turned to her. “You want to?”
Did she want to? Was water wet?
Tass shrugged her shoulders. “Well, if you want to,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, I guess,” Emmett mumbled.
“Aww, we ain’t got all night!” Hank bellowed.
“Shut up, man!” Emmett said, and then grabbed Tass by the hand, gently pulled her to him, and brought his lips toward hers.
Tass would always remember the scent of the grape ice pop on his breath and the way he closed his eyes just before their lips met.
Hank yelped and clapped and Padagonia tugged Tass away, exclaiming, “Save some for another time, girl!”
Tass’s head was spinning and she thought, This is what being drunk must feel like.
“Come on, Dorothy Dandridge.”
Padagonia hooked her arm around Tass’s waist. “We’ll see y’all tomorrow,” she yelled to the boys.
“By-eeee,” Tass sang.
Emmett rolled his shoulders and waltzed toward home with the air of a young man who had a long and full life ahead of him.
