by J. J. Murray
"You think so?"
If the bitch asks one more question, I'm going to whump up some kick-ass, and with her, I'll only need one foot, tiny as she is. Hold me back, Lord. Keep me from punting this wench across the room. "Look, I know Tee is a bright child, and so should you. She asks lots of questions, right?" Miss Freitag looks at her hands. "She does, doesn't she? Drives you right up the walls. I know all about that, and I sympathize with you. Am I right?"
"Yes. She doesn't know when to shut up ""
"And that's a bad thing?"
"It is when you're trying to teach twenty-four other children."
Now we're cookin'. I return to my seat. "Tee Jones is just a curious girl who craves attention, Miss Freitag. She's gonna be an actress someday, I just know it. You ever let her do anything in front of the class on her own?"
"Never."
"Why not?"
"She'll take over, Mrs. Borum. I have to keep her under control"
I roll my eyes this time. "How you know she'll take over? How you know what will happen unless you let it happen once?" She doesn't answer. "Y'all still do the Pledge of Allegiance, right?"
"Yes. So?"
"You ever let Tee lead it?"
"Of course not. That's a privilege a student must earn"
"Why?"
"Why? It's one of my main rules. You get privileges if you earn them. That's the way it is in real life."
Dag, it's gettin' thick up in here. "It is? What privileges you earned so far workin' here at Avery?"
She sighs. "Not many."
She's weakening. "Isn't saying the Pledge the right of every American?"
"Yes, of course. Tee says it along with the others. Loudly."
Tee would. "Bet the windows rattle."
She smiles. "Yep"
I'm beginning to like this woman. "Miss Freitag, could you maybe put Tee in charge of something?"
"Like what?"
I look around the room. "I don't know." I focus on a board displaying the day's weather. "Let her give the weather report. Let her pass out paper. Hell, she's practically sitting at your desk anyway. Save yourself some walkin'. Let her run errands for you. Let her do something, let her be useful, give her some control. You know about her mama, right?"
"No. I've never met her"
She doesn't know? That explains a bundle. "It's cuz she died a few months back"
Miss Freitag closes her eyes, and we're quiet for a few moments. "I didn't know that. Tee didn't say anything about it °'
"Why would she? Every time Tee speaks, you put a red mark on that sign. I wouldn't tell you my business either." Miss Freitag opens her eyes, and they're lookin' right sad. "But I don't think Tee would tell you anyway. She hardly talks about it to anyone, even me. I think she's so busy trying to be her mama that she hasn't found time to cry over her mama. She's practically raising her brother all by her sixyear-old self." A bell rings, and Miss Freitag looks like she's about to cry. "I didn't mean to ruin your day. Really. I just want to help." I stand. "I better be goin'."
I'm almost to the door when Miss Freitag says, "Wait" I turn. "I know exactly how Tee feels. My mother ... My mother died when I was nine. I had a horrible time in school then, too. I should have recognized the problem, seen myself in Tee"
I smile despite the sadness welling in my heart for my own mama. "My mama died when I was ten. But ... six, nine, ten-I don't think it matters when it happens. It's going to mess you up some way, somehow."
The first cute little kids come in, backpacks strapped on. "Thanks for stopping by," Miss Freitag says, scooping stacks of paper from the table.
"I'll be around Tuesdays and Wednesdays if you need me"'
"Okay."
Instead of going to Mrs. King's class, I return to the office to pick up Dee, my "class" for the day.
"Is he here yet?" I ask Mrs. Holland.
"Not yet. What y'all gonna do all day?"
I shrug. "Don't know. Y'all still have that resource classroom upstairs?"
"Sure.,,
"Guess we'll go there"
"Supposed to warm up later today," she says with that crafty smile of hers. "Might even get into the sixties. Dee's missing gym today, so ... "
Yep. I'm dressed to go to a park all right. "I understand"
I keep looking at the doorway to the office. I can't help it. It's like I haven't seen my son for weeks or something. At a little after nine, Dee slip-slides in, a bright blue backpack strapped on, his face blank. I squat in front of him and remove his book bag. "You ready?"
He nods.
I stand, he takes my hand, and we head upstairs to the resource room, which is really a closet with a table and a few chairs. We spend most of the morning practicing numbers and letters using some blank sheets of paper, and I say as little as possible. I write a letter or number, and he copies it in long strings.
I hand him a blank sheet. "I want you to draw me now. I want something I can hang on my refrigerator."
He blinks and roots around in his book bag for something, pulling out an orange-red crayon.
"Is that the color you think I am, Mr. Dee?"
He shrugs.
I slide my arm across the table. "Check it out, boy. Put your crayon on my arm" He does. "Now, does that match?"
He shakes his head and opens his mouth. Lord Jesus, he's about to speak!
But nothing comes out but a little yawn.
I laugh. "You sleepin' okay?"
He shrugs.
"You ain't takin' that medicine, are you?"
He shakes his head.
"Good" I gotta wake this child up. "Let's get out of here. You can draw me some other time. We're going to the park, Mr. Dee"
I let Dee guide me through the park, and we're the only ones there. We pass some slides and a jungle gym glistening with melted frost and walk till we come to a scruffy-looking tree missing most of its leaves. He stops and looks up. "You wanna climb it?"
He nods.
I look around to check for nosy bodies. "Go on, then"
He jumps for the lowest branch, grabs on, swings his legs up ... and gets stuck. I want to wait for him to ask me for help, but I don't want him to fall. I turn him so he's on top of the branch, and in seconds, he's climbing like a squirrel till he's at least twenty feet up the tree, balancing on a branch no thicker than his leg.
"You be careful now."
He ain't hearin' me at all, his face one bright smile. The boy's just enjoyin' the view. Wish I could join him.
"What you see up there, Mr. Dee?"
No response.
"You see the ocean?"
He shakes his head.
"You see the mountains?"
Another shake.
"You see the school?"
Another shake.
What's left? It doesn't matter, I guess. Just to see anything different, get off the ground, climb out of a rut, look at the world in a new way that's enough. Climb a tree and get away from your troubles.
"You okay up there?"
He nods.
"You hungry?"
He nods and climbs down, my heart catching on his every step. Lord, keep Your angels on standby, okay? When he gets to the lowest branch, I reach up for him, but he jumps off instead, landing on his feet. Climb a tree, solve your troubles, land on your feet -I ought to send that to Reader's Digest myself.
He takes my hand. "Thank you, Penny."
"You're welcome, Mr. Dee"
Wait a minute.
He spoke.
Dee Jones, the nodding boy, spoke.
My nose tingles, the tears not far behind.
Oh, my Lord, my Lord! And I didn't expect it! I try to blink my eyes so the tears don't come, but a few slip out anyway.
"You okay, Penny?"
I nod this time.
"You hungry?"
I nod again.
"Me, too"
I want to weep for joy, but I don't want to scare this child. What would he think if folks cried every time he spoke? To thi
nk that God, in His infinite wisdom, allowed this scrawny tree to stand here for maybe forty or fifty years till the day it would help a little boy to speak! Lord, thank You for this tree!
"Think they got chicken nuggets and fries today," I say with a sniff as we begin to walk.
"Yuck"
"Yuck?"
"It ain't real chicken like we ate at church"
"No, it isn't. Maybe they'll have something better."
He rolls his eyes. "They won't."
And they don't. Dee eats half a sloppy Joe and a few limp fries, washing it down with a carton of chocolate milk, chattering about his daddy, his sister, his teacher, a cartoon show, some creature that can change into a space ship-everything but his mama. I don't eat a single bit of my food because I don't want to miss a single, blessed word. He takes both our trays to the trash cans and leads me back upstairs. On the way, we pass the gym and find it empty.
"Wanna play some basketball, boy?"
"Uh-huh."
For the rest of that afternoon, Dee Jones, formerly the blank-faced boy, becomes the giggling boy, shooting and making most of his shots to the basket, which is only about six feet off the ground. I lift him a few times so he can dunk the ball, and he even challenges me to a game of horse, which I gladly lose.
"I'm terrible, aren't I?" I ask him.
"Yup," he says just like his daddy.
"Guess I should stick to bowling, huh?"
14Yup
A bell rings to end the day, we get his backpack and coat from the resource room, and we return to the office where Tee is waiting on the bench. "And how is Miss Jones this fine day?" I ask.
"Okay."
I sit next to her, Dee leaning on my legs. "How was school, girl?"
"Okay."
"Just okay?"
"Uh-huh"
I see Mrs. Holland edging toward the counter. "What color did Miss Freitag put on the board today, Tee?" she asks.
"Green"
Yes! I smile at Mrs. Holland, and she winks. "You had a good day, girl," I say, and I hug her.
"So did I," Dee says.
Little Tee's whole body shakes, and it doesn't look like she knows what to do. She stares at her brother, at Mrs. Holland, at me. "Penny, did Dee just say something?"
"Uh-huh," Dee says. "C'mon" He takes Tee's hand. "Let's go to the playground."
Tee leaps off that bench, and the two of them race out of the office. Great God in heaven! Thank You for watching Your sparrows today!
"You had a good day today, too, Ruth Childress," Mrs. Holland says.
"Yup," I say. I stand. "Gonna go cross the monkey bars now.,,
"The what?"
"Gonna cross the monkey bars"
"Okay, you do that."
I catch up to Tee and Dee outside and stride right over to those bars. I climb the ladder, reach out both hands to the first bar, and swing out without falling. I look down and see Dee looking up at me.
"You goin' all the way across, Penny?"
"Gonna try."
"Be careful, Penny."
He's so cute! "I'll try."
I take one swipe with my right hand and reach the second bar, gripping it tightly. I'm still holding on!
"You can do it, Penny," Tee says from the top of the sliding board.
I grip tighter with my right hand and release my left, watching my hand float by my face to the third bar as I twist in the air. I latch on. My heart's goin' a million beats a second, I'm sweating, my arms ache, my hands hurt, but I ain't lettin' go. Four more bars to go.
"I'll catch you if you fall, Penny," Dee says.
Damn. Here come the tears. "Thank you, Mr. Dee" I grip harder with my left, release my right ... and drop to the ground, but this time I land on my feet. "Almost made it." Whoo! Halfway. I made it halfway.
"You just need more practice, Penny," Tee says, and she flies down the slide.
"You gonna try again?" Dee asks.
"Maybe tomorrow."
"You did good," he says.
I go to the bench and sit. "Thank you, Mr. Dee"
"You look wore out, Penny. You need to rest"
"Thank you. I will. Y'all go on and play now."
For the next two hours or so, I watch them playing, their combined giggles and shouts soothing my aches away. A few other children from the neighborhood show up without their mamas, and they chase each other around, playing those made-up games children are famous for. Naturally, Tee controls the action, making (and remaking) the rules for a game she calls "Catch." I won't explain the rules since they change every five minutes, but it looks a lot like tag. At five, we say our goodbyes and leave for the apartment.
"I get to read the weather report tomorrow, Penny," Tee says on the way. "Think it'll be cold and rainy?"
"Might be"
Dee pouts. "I won't be able to climb the tree if it rains."
I squeeze his hand. "We'll find something to do "
When we get to the apartment, we see Nanna sitting in her rusty truck. She leaps out and runs to Tee and Dee as the children race to her, Dee shouting, "Nanna!"
She hugs them both, then holds Dee's face, kissing him on the nose and smiling as wide as her little face will let her. I feel so much joy right now that I can't contain myself, like I'm about to burst. I can't wait till Dewey gets home!
"Y'all go in and get washed up," Nanna says. "And Tee, you do your homework"
"Bye Penny," Dee says.
"See you tomorrow, Mr. Dee. And Miss Tee, you practice that weather report"
"Okay."
They disappear into the apartment leaving Nanna and me at the back of her truck. "Isn't that amazing? He's speaking again!"
"Yup
"We were just climbin' trees when-"
"Where y'all been?" she interrupts, and with an attitude, too. What's bitin' her in the ass?
"At the playground behind the school."
"Well, I've been worried sick."
Uh-oh. "Dewey didn't tell you that I was mindin' them?"
"No"
"It's only for Tuesdays and Wednesdays, the days I volunteer."
Nanna nods, her lips tightening. "What you doin'?"
"Doin'?"
She crosses her arms. "Nice what you've done for Dee, but what you really doin' here?"
I don't like the sound of her tone. "I'm mindin' your son's children."
"Uh-huh"
"I am"
"That ain't all, is it?"
"What you mean?"
`Eakin' a cake and actin' all neighborly when you ain't my son's neighbor, puttin' that note in with all them words underlined, goin' bowlin' with 'em, volunteerin' at their school. And you're just mindin' the children? You think I'm that stupid?"
I feel an empty space growing in my stomach. Everything was going along so well, and now this. "You're right, Mrs. Baxter. There is more to this." "
She shakes her head. "Here we go again."
Here we go again? "Here what goes again?"
"This has Tiffany Jones written all over it."
"No it doesn't."
"The hell it don't!"
I am not Tiffany Jones, Mrs. Baxter."
"No. You the one who divorced the preacher." Even white people know? "My son sure can pick 'em. First a whore, and now you" Lord, the shit gettin' holy now! You best cover Your ears fora spell. "You after my boy or his kids or both?"
My heart is thundering in my chest, and I want so bad to cuss her out. I swallow and say, "Both"
"You're as crazy as they say."
"Or in love," I say, and it slips out before I can catch it. Why am I pouring my heart out to this woman?
"Now I know you're crazy. I even hear you're playing at your ex-husband's wedding. What self-respecting woman does that?"
This is happening way too fast. "I'm not playing at his wedding."
"You were gonna, right?"
"Yes, but now
"And you're still callin' yourself Mrs. Borum like it means something anymore. You ask me,
it don't mean shit. If you know what's good for you, you'll stay away from my Dewey. His plate is full enough without you addin' to it."
How can I make her know that I can't stay away? "The only thing I'm addin' to his plate is cake, Mrs. Baxter. I'm trying to lighten his load, not add to it."
"Horseshit. Anyone can make a decent cake. You're just trying to find you a man to pay your bills. Just like Tiffany."
"No, I'm not. I don't have any bills." Okay, I owe a couple thousand on some credit cards. "And I was going to play at that wedding because playing the organ is what I'm called to do"
"More horseshit."
"It ain't horseshit, Mrs. Baxter. Really. Playing the organ is my calling; it's my gift."
She rolls her eyes. "Your gift? Right. Well, I'm that boy's mama, he's my only son, he's my gift, and I am called to look out for him."
She got me, but I can't let this go. "He's a grown man, Mrs. Baxter." I take the deepest breath of my life. "And I intend one day to be your son's wife whether you like it or not"
"What? My boy will never marry you"
"Dewey ain't no boy, Mrs. Baxter. He's a man"
She cackles. "He's a boy to me, and he ain't gonna marry you, girl. So you just quit your tryin'."
"Why? Why ain't he gonna marry me?"
"Tiffany Jones was after my boy for six years. Six years, and he didn't marry her. Here you come along all of a sud den expectin' him to pop the damn question." She snaps her fingers. "It won't happen."
YT
"I just told you. Are you deaf and crazy?"
I take a deep breath. "Why won't it happen? I think I already know, but I want to hear it from you"
"You wanna hear what from me?"
"I wanna hear you say it won't happen because you don't want it to happen"
"Course I don't want it to happen. Whites and coloreds ain't supposed to be mixin'. It's in the Bible."
Now we're gettin' right down to it. "In Ezra nine and ten, right?"
"Shit, I don't know. I just know it's in there"
Lord, why You let ignorance create racism? "Well, it ain't in there, Mrs. Baxter. Ain't nothin' in the Bible that says I can't be mixin' with your son, and I oughta know. I was once a preacher's wife, and I've read that book cover to cover so I could write his sermons" I step closer, putting her in my shadow. "Say it."
"Say what?"
"Say what you mean, Mrs. Baxter, and don't you bring God or the Bible into it. Why won't Dewey marry me?"
She looks away. "Cuz I won't let him."
