Читать книгу The Bernice L. McFadden Collection - Bernice L. McFadden - Страница 39

Chapter Twenty-Nine

There were kind years and hard years. Long periods that found Tass and her family living from pillar to post. Months when there was barely enough money to buy beans and flour. One winter, they couldn’t afford to fill the oil tank and spent the entire season huddled together in two rooms kept warm by kerosene heaters.

When Hemmingway slipped softly away during one of the hard years, Fish’s employer advanced him his pay, which was just enough to buy bus tickets for Tass and Sonny to go down and attend to things.

Padagonia met them at the bus depot and Tass was surprised at how hard-in-the-face she looked. Tass hadn’t seen Padagonia since she’d given birth to her second child back in 1959. Considering how poor their finances were, it just made more sense for them to bring Hemmingway up north. Tass had invited Padagonia to come and visit numerous times, and she always said that she would, but never did.

Padagonia was wearing a checkered long-sleeve shirt, baggy denims, hunting boots, and a baseball cap. She looked more like a man than a woman and Tass had to pinch Sonny when he whispered under his breath, “Is she a dyke, Mama?”

“No,” Tass hissed unsurely.

The two old friends threw their arms around each other. Tass winced; being hugged by Padagonia was like being clasped by a wire hanger.

“You need to put some meat on those bones, girl!” Tass teased. “This is Sonny, my oldest boy.”

Sonny offered his hand and Padagonia took it and shook it like a man.

“Wow, last time I saw you, you were just a little tot. Now look at you, all grown up!”

Sonny grinned.

Padagonia brought her face close to his and exclaimed, “My goodness, Tass, do you know this boy got hair growing above his lip?”

Sonny blushed with embarrassment.

The funeral was small. Most of the people who had known Tass and Hemmingway had either died or moved away.

At the cemetery, Sonny couldn’t stop fidgeting. Graveyards gave him the willies, so when the coffin was lowered into the ground, Sonny excused himself and double-timed it out to the street, where he waited with Padagonia who was puffing on a black and tan, with one foot cocked up on the fender of her silver Pacer.

Tass lingered. Nearby were the graves of her uncle and the grandparents she never knew. The tombstones had begun to sink and tilt, but the names and dates on the stones were as legible as they had been the day they were etched.

“I guess I’m officially an orphan now,” Tass murmured to the air as a lone tear trickled down her cheek.

Hemmingway had never revealed the identity of Tass’s father, and the one time Tass did ask, her mother had responded sharply, “I’m your mother and your father.”

When Tass was ten years old, she and Padagonia had spent an entire summer searching for her face in those of the men around town. The two spent hours sitting outside of Bryant’s grocery store, scrutinizing the faces of the men who trailed in and out of the store. This went on until someone reported back to Hemmingway: “That child of yor’n and her friend down by the store eyeballing people like it’s nobody’s business. They keep it up and somebody gonna take a switch to their behinds.”

Tass wiped her eyes and chuckled at the memory.

As she continued reminiscing, she was suddenly overcome with the feeling that she was being watched. She turned and saw a crew of gravediggers milling about, obviously waiting for her to leave. So she started across the lawn and walked right into a spiderweb, or at least what felt like a spiderweb. She was swiping at her face when she felt the unmistakable tickle of a feather in her ear, followed by a gentle breath of air against her cheek. Little did she know that the lines of communication between the here-and-now and the beyond were now open.

Yes, Emmett’s body was buried in Illinois, but his spirit had remained here with me. Why? Because this was where the last good thing happened.

Did you forget the kiss?

What do you think he was dreaming about when those men came and dragged him out his bed?

In his dream, the road stretched out for endless miles and he and Tass walked for days beneath a clear blue sky. Their ice pops never melted and Tass planted a kiss on his lips each time they came upon a bend in the road.

There were many, many bends in the road.

Dearest, you must understand that crossing over to the other side is the same as drifting off to sleep. One full day for you is an entire year for a soul.

When Emmett had finally opened his eyes in the here-and-now, he found that his body was no more, that the boys he’d known were now men and the girls had blossomed into women. Tass was gone and Hemmingway was graying around her hairline.

He went first to the home of Moe Wright, but found only a dry tract of land where the house once stood. The next place he went was to Hemmingway Hilson’s house. He took up residence on her porch, where he remained for many years.

When Hemmingway died, her spirit came to him and said, “I figured that was you.” She looked off into the distance and then back at him and added, “She’ll be here soon.” And then skipped away into the blue.

Emmett had watched Padagonia step out of her house, cross the road, and knock on the door, calling, “Miss Hemmingway?”

When she did not receive an answer, she had gone to the window and pressed her face against the glass. Finally, she picked up the one lone flowerpot on the porch and removed the key hidden beneath it.

Moments after she let herself inside of the house, Emmett heard her gasp. When Padagonia reappeared, she had tears in her eyes.

Days later, when Tass and her son arrived, Emmett had sensed her presence as soon as she stepped off the bus. He was happy to feel himself in her thoughts and glad to know that she hadn’t forgotten about him.

But I ask you, dear reader, how could she forget him? How could she possibly forget, when year after year August 28 rolled around and Jet Magazine republished that horrid photo, reminding Tass and the rest of the world of what had happened here during the summer of 1955?

And what of the murder of Medgar Evers in Jackson, Mississippi, in 1963? And the following year, in Philadelphia, Mississippi, where three civil rights workers were beaten, shot to death, and buried in a field?

Those murders always brought Emmett Till back to the forefront of not just Tass’s mind, but the minds of many people all around the world.

Tass’s heart raced and her body tensed as she launched into a sprint. When she reached the street, she was trembling and her eyes were wild with fear.

“Mama, what’s wrong?” Sonny asked.

“You okay?” Padagonia took hold of her hand and squeezed.

“I’m fine. Just fine,” Tass stammered. “Let’s go home.”

The house seemed even smaller than she remembered. The ceiling was so low, Sonny had to walk stooped over through the rooms.

Together they carried out the task of sorting through, throwing out, and giving away Hemmingway’s scant possessions. They got rid of everything except for the beds, a dresser, and a rocking chair.

That evening, Padagonia and Tass sat on the porch and gazed up at the star-filled sky.

“You gonna sell the place?” Padagonia asked.

“Maybe.”

“Well then,” Padagonia offered with a gentle pat to Tass’s thigh, “I’ll keep an eye on it till you decide.”

Sonny and Tass boarded a bus headed north just four days after they arrived. Padagonia was sad to see them go and promised that she would come soon for a visit. Tass laughed and said, “I won’t hold my breath.”

Emmett floated on board and rode on Tass’s lap all the way to Detroit.