“Daisy, please stop…”
Uncle Clark stepped closer to my momma. “Ain’t a need for all that, Daisy.”
But my momma kept right on talking.
“No, you stop, Vera. If your momma hadn’t gotten sick, she would’ve never let me see my child.”
“I don’t have time for this. Lymon, come with me.” Aunt Vera took my hand and pulled me up. “You’ve got to gimme a minute to get some things together for him,” she said, and walked me into the kitchen.
“Aunt Vera. That’s my momma?” Still didn’t know if I was dreaming.
“Yes, Lymon, that’s her.” Aunt Vera was whispering now. “I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t know what else to do. With Ma sick and all, me and Clark are going to have to take some double shifts to pay her medical bills. We just can’t care for you right now. I had to get in touch with your momma, and she’s real excited about you staying with her in Chicago. Now, soon as we know what’s going on with Ma, and your daddy comes back through, you may be able to come on back, but for now…” She didn’t even finish. She took her sleeve and wiped her eyes.
I could hear my momma and Uncle Clark, still loud talking in the front room.
“What’s gonna happen to Ma?” I asked.
“We putting it in God’s hands, Lymon. She’ll probably be at the hospital for a bit. Maybe stay here if I can get my shift changed. But I need you to just hang on with your momma, okay? She’s got a steady job there, and I hear her husband is a good man.”
“You gonna tell Daddy where I’m at?” I asked her.
“Soon as I see him, Lymon, yes, I will,” she said.
“And then he’s gonna come and get me?” I asked.
“God willing.”
Think that’s Aunt Vera’s way of saying she don’t know much more than I do.
Been wanting to see my momma for so long and now here we were in the same house, and this feeling wasn’t nothing like I thought it would be.
Just like that, I’m going to Chicago and going to live with my momma, all in one night.
TWO
Chicago, Illinois 1945
I been two places my whole life, Vicksburg and Milwaukee. Three if you count Parchman prison. Now, I can add in Chicago. Mr. Eugene told me his daughter lives somewhere in Chicago, and she comes to visit every now and then. Said this city is too big for him. But the minute I saw all the buildings, the lights and cars, I knew it wasn’t going to be too big for me.
My momma talked as fast as she drove, like she’s making up for all the years we been apart. She told me ’bout my little brothers, “bad and badder” she called them. Talked so fast I almost missed their real names, “Orvis, after his daddy, ’cause Lord knows I wouldn’t’ve of picked that name” and “Theo, after my daddy.” She stopped long enough for me to ask her, “You pick my name too?”
“Lord no!” she shouted. Seemed every other word she said she shouted.
“Thought your grandmama told you every dang thang. Think that was your daddy’s grandaddy or some mess like that. I don’t remember.” She kept right on talking.
In between Momma talking about what a good man her husband Robert was and how bad Theo and Orvis were, she talked a little ’bout meeting my daddy back in Vicksburg. When my daddy told the story, was a lot of parts about how pretty my momma was and what a good dancer. When my momma told it, Daddy couldn’t do nothing quite right.
“That fool had two left feet,” she said, “but I danced with him anyhow. Ooooh, Grady could play a harp though, I’ll give him that. And he was a smooth talker. If I wasn’t so young and stupid, I wouldn’t have listened to half his mess,” she said, shaking her head.
“Him and his people was always walking ’round Vicksburg like they know what don’t stink. But we knew better. And your daddy with his high and mighty self sitting up in Parchman.” She sucked her teeth and laughed. “Wish I could have seen your grandmama’s face then.” She barely took a breath. “They never thought I’d make nothing of myself, but I did just fine. Moved up to Chicago with my sister when I was big with Orvis. His daddy wasn’t nothing but a bag of promises either, but I finally found myself a good man.” Said the word good like Robert was Jesus Christ himself.
“Now, Robert ain’t what you call easy on the eyes, but I found out a long time ago, being easy on the eyes don’t pay the bills.” I didn’t know if my momma was talking to me or herself. “Some folks down at my job got a lot to say about Robert being on the older side, but what man wants an old woman?” Momma hit me with her elbow. “Lymon, you awake?” I was tired and wanted to close my eyes, but I was ’fraid I’d miss something important. So, I kept listening. I listened less though when she started on ’bout my daddy. She seemed like she had a lot to say ’bout someone she didn’t want nothing to do with. But I kept quiet ’bout that. She didn’t ask nothing ’bout me. ’Bout school or Ma. Even ’bout Grandpops. Finally, I asked. “You know my grandpops died?”
“Oh yeah, I think I heard that.” But then she kept right on talking again.
I never got to know her momma and daddy. But Ma told me once they were drinkers. “The worst kind,” she said. “Po-lice at their house all the time. Those people don’t have no dignity. Don’t even have a church home.” Last few years, Ma didn’t have one either, even though Aunt Vera’s church, Calvary Baptist, was right down the street. Think Ma felt like God gave up on her. Aunt Vera must have talked to Reverend Lawson ’bout her family ’cause it was Calvary Baptist helped us out with furniture, and bringing by baskets of food ’round the holidays. She told me once, “If those church folks want to give, then I’m gonna receive.” She put on a little fake smile when they dropped off the basket. We ate up all the food and Ma didn’t say nothing more about it.
* * *
It was too dark to see much on our drive, and Momma drove so fast, some of the road signs were blurry.
“You like music?” I must have drifted off, ’cause my momma was shaking my arm.
“Yeah, I like music. Daddy and my grandpops taught me—”
“ ’Cause they got a good radio station out here.” She turned on the radio and started snapping her fingers to a song I never heard before. She couldn’t carry no kind of tune. “Your daddy told you I was the best dancer in Warren County?” The car started to move from side to side a little bit when she started shaking her shoulders to the music.
That was when I remembered I left Grandpops’ guitar back at Ma’s house.
“Momma!”
She kept singing.
“Momma!”
“What, Lymon? You hear me singing?”
“I forgot my guitar,” I told her.
“Your what?”
I turned the music all the way down.
“The guitar Grandpops gave me. I left it at Ma’s…at my grandma’s house.”
“Well, we can’t do nothing ’bout that now,” she said.
“But—”
“I’ll get a better guitar than some old beat-up one from your grandaddy.” She laughed. “Chicago has plenty of guitars.”
But I wanted Grandpops’ guitar. The one he taught me my very first song on. When I played that guitar, I could hear his voice and feel his fingers on top of mine. I closed my eyes again trying to go back to sleep, but even if I wanted to, my momma’s singing kept me awake.
THREE
Chicago, Illinois 1945
WE turned onto a wide street with big, pretty trees on the sidewalk, and she slowed down. All I could hear was the car engine as I was staring up at the street sign, trying to read the name when my momma said, “This street here is one of the nicest on the South Side. We’re gonna move here once Robert gets his raise,” she said, smiling.
Looked like a street where rich people lived. Every building had big windows with fancy curtains pulled back so you could see the lights on inside.
“Colored folks live here?” I asked her. She stopped smiling like I just woke her up from a sound sleep. “ ’Course colored folks live here. D
idn’t I just tell you we gonna move here?”
“Is Robert rich?” I asked her.
“Not yet, but he’s gonna do just fine. You’ll see. He’s not like most of these sorry men, happy with some change in their pocket. Robert got dreams.” I didn’t say Robert would need a lot more than dreams to live on this street. He’d need a tree for money.
She started driving fast again, telling me ’bout the furniture she’d seen in a store downtown she was going to have to buy to fill up their new apartment. Just when she was talking ’bout silk curtains, we stopped on a street called St. Lawrence and started looking for a place to park.
“Our place is right there.” She pointed to a brick building across the street.
This street looked nothing like the street my momma wanted to live on. Even though it was late, people were walking around and sitting on steps like it was daytime. Instead of trees on the sidewalk, one building had garbage piled up in front. Seemed people in Chicago never went to bed. Chicago made Milwaukee look like Vicksburg. Wondered if there was another city made Chicago look as small as Milwaukee.
“ ’Fore we go on up to the apartment, there’s a few things we need to get straight.” When my momma talked slow, I could hear more of the Vicksburg in her voice.
“My man…my husband”—she showed me the band on her finger—“he don’t stand for much foolishness. I told him I had to come and get you, and he was real good about it, seeing you ain’t his folk and all. You or Orvis, but he loves me. You just do like he say, and he’ll be good to you. You understand me, Lymon?”
“Yes ma’am,” I said.
“And I don’t want none of that ‘yes ma’am’ stuff, you hear me? We ain’t in Mississippi. ’Sides, I’m your momma, ain’t I, not your ma’am.” She leaned across the seat and pinched my cheek so hard it hurt. Kissed me wet on my forehead. She put lipstick on while she was looking in the mirror and parking the car at the same time. I took my bag and we walked to an apartment building in between a long row of a lot of other apartment buildings.
“This the one?”
“Yeah, this is it!” she said, loud again. “What were you expecting? The Drake Hotel?”
The hallway was dark, but I could follow her just by the smell of her perfume. Ma never wore any, said it was the sign of a “low” woman. But my momma smelled real nice.
“We’re up on the second floor,” she said to me in the dark. Then she said softer, “This place is just for now.”
I barely had time to even ask what job Robert was getting his raise from before we were at the door.
* * *
Robert was a big man. Looked ’bout as wide as he was tall. Had a thick mustache and hair Mr. Eugene would need ’bout an hour to get through. He looked old enough to be my momma’s daddy. He was sitting on the couch when my momma opened the door, and he wasn’t in any hurry to get up.
“Robert, here he is. My baby. My Lymon. Lymon, go say hello to Robert.” She pushed me to the couch.
“Hello, Mr. Robert,” I said, holding out my hand trying not to stare at the belly sitting on his lap.
He looked at my momma and laughed. “He ain’t but a little thing,” he said. “My Theo’s almost as big as you, and he’s only seven.”
“He’s petite like his momma, right, Lymon?” Momma pushed me forward some more.
Wasn’t sure I liked the word petite.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Robert,” I said again, my hand still out.
He grunted loud and stood up. Clapped me on my shoulder and I dropped my hand. “Good to meet you, Lymon.” He hiked up his pants. Said to my momma, “Took y’all so long?”
“Don’t get me started. Vera wanted to give me a hard time ’bout waking up my boy in the middle of the night. Like she’s his momma.” She laughed.
“I’m going to bed,” Robert said, stretching. His shirt rose up good then, and I saw most of his hairy belly up close. Don’t know how my momma could look at that every day, but she didn’t seem to notice. Just kept right on smiling.
“Make yourself at home.” He laughed again, pointing to the couch.
“I’ll be right in, Robert,” my momma said. Sounded like every time she said his name, she was singing a song.
“You gonna have to sleep on the couch, baby. Just till we move into our new place. The boys are already tight as it is…. You understand, right?”
I nodded.
She went and got a blanket and pillow from her room. She kissed me on my forehead and handed them to me. “You and Robert are gonna get on just fine,” she told me. “He’s been good to me and if you treat him right, he’ll take care of all of us.” I didn’t know what my momma was talking ’bout, but I nodded my head.
“ ’Night, Lymon,” she said. “Try and get some sleep.”
I tucked the sheet into the cushions tight where Robert’s big behind made them flat, laid the blanket on top. I could hear Momma and Robert in the room laughing ’bout something. I hoped it wasn’t me.
Even though my momma turned off the lamp, the room was still bright from the street lamps outside the window. I took off my clothes and folded them up. When I lay on the couch, all I could feel were the springs. But the pillow smelled like lilac perfume. Just like my momma.
FOUR
Chicago, Illinois 1945
I woke up expecting to see my momma. ’Stead I saw four big eyes staring down at me.
“You Lymon?” the older one asked.
“You Orvis?” I answered.
“I’m Theo,” the little one said.
These were my momma’s boys. Bad and badder.
“Leave that boy be and get to the table!” I heard Robert yelling from the other room. They were sitting down eating ’fore I could even sit up.
“You sleep all day back in Milwaukee?” Robert asked me.
“No sir. What time is it?” I asked, pulling on my pants.
“I look like a clock to you?”
Bad and badder laughed.
“Don’t I gotta go to school today?” I asked him.
“That’s on your momma. But she’s working first shift today. She’ll be home ’bout four.” Momma told me she works on the line at the Campbell’s factory over on 35th and Western.
“All day long, pressing tops for those dang soup cans,” she said, when she talked about her job. When I asked her if Campbell’s gave out free soup to people who worked there, she looked at me sideways. “Now how they gonna make money if they giving away free soup? I work on a factory line, not on a soup line.” She nearly cracked herself up laughing.
Robert grunted and sat on the chair to tie his shoe, huffing and puffing the whole time. Thought he was gonna bust every button on his shirt his belly was so big.
“Don’t you leave this house while we’re gone, you hear me?”
“Yessir.”
“Now I know you and your folks only been up North a short while, but I am a born-and-bred Northern Negro. That means I don’t want to hear all those ‘yessirs’ in my house. You’re not in a cotton field, you in Chicago, boy. Act like it. You got to call me something, call me Mr. Robert.”
“Okay,” I answered. Not sure what to say now.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, Mr. Robert.”
“Orvis, Theo, get your behinds out here,” he yelled. They ran to the door, and the three of them left slamming it behind them. I went to the table to see what was left of breakfast and looked like between the three of them they ate up most of the eggs and toast. I ate what was left off one of the plates and started looking ‘round.
Wasn’t much to see of the apartment but I took my time. Theo and Orvis shared one small room off the kitchen, barely big enough to fit a bed and dresser. Made me think of me and Ma sharing a room back in Milwaukee. Wondered if she was out of the hospital yet. Wondered if I’d hear from Aunt Vera and how long it’d be before she could tell my daddy where I was. I wanted Daddy to show up and put Robert in his place. Maybe Momma see Daddy again, she’d leave old Robe
rt in the dust? But then what about bad and badder? Just needed to see my daddy to talk to him about all that was going on. I looked in Momma and Robert’s room too. Their room was bigger, and it had one big bed with a side table and a lamp. A chair with Robert’s uniform jacket and pants with suspenders still on them. Underneath his sweat, I could smell Momma’s perfume. On the dresser, she had perfume bottles and lipsticks lined up in a row on a fancy white scarf. Up above it was a mirror. I opened the top drawer and saw all her ladies’ things, some real fancy in shiny colors with lace. Felt ‘shamed to be looking, so I closed that dresser so fast one of the perfume bottles tipped over.
Back in the front room was the flattened-out couch, two lamps, and a kitchen table and chairs. Wasn’t no place for me to turn ’round good, but I could tell by looking out the front window all the action was outside. Even though it was early in the morning, out on the sidewalks were people talking, selling, laughing. And I was stuck up here. Wasn’t nothing left to do but go back to sleep, so I sat back down and waited.
* * *
I heard loud voices then a key in the door. Orvis and Theo ran into the room.
“Lymon! You still here?” they asked me.
“Where else would I be?”
My momma had on her work clothes, a dingy blue dress and lace-up shoes with thick bottoms. She set down her purse on the table.
“You still in bed?”
“No. Well, I fell asleep, I guess. Robert…Mr. Robert said I couldn’t go outside…. You gonna put me in school?”
She was looking through some mail. “Yeah,” she said. Still flipping. “I gotta change my shift to get you up to the school, Lymon. I just started this job. You want me to get fired?”
“No. But, can’t Mr. Robert take me?”
I ain’t never one day wanted to go to school, but if it meant I could get outside and see what was happening in Chicago, I was ready to go.
“I’ll ask him.”
Leaving Lymon Page 7
