The Summer We Got Saved

by Pat Cunningham Devoto

  “Be a dollar fifty, Jessie. Twelve and under free.”

  Jessie reached in his pocket for the money. “Y’all have a good time now, and don’t shine them lights on the screen. Old Bowie have a fit.”

  They drove on into the field, following the cars in front of them. Aunt Laura nudged the blanket on the floor. “You can get on up here now, Jessie James. You done fooled ’em all.” JD squirmed out of the blanket and jumped to the window, calling out to the evening air, “Fooled you, fooled you.”

  Aunt Laura took the blanket to fold it. “Oh, you a master of disguise, boy.”

  As they drove up to the front row, pulling in next to the split-rail fence, other cars had already begun to line up behind them. People were getting out to sit on front bumpers. Some had spread blankets on the space in front of their cars. Others had brought folding chairs. JD immediately jumped out of the car to join some friends.

  “Least we got here in time to get a good place.” Jessie had pulled into one of the last places in the first row.

  “I remember when I was little,” Maudie said. “I used to think this was the best place, too.”

  Jessie turned off the motor. “You being smart with me?”

  “Me? I ain’t being smart with you, Mr. Jessie.” She tried to look wide-eyed, but her face had lost its child’s countenance. Must be the smell of the popcorn in the air.

  “All right, all right,” Miss Laura said. “Don’t wanta have no arguments on my birthday. Now ain’t this nice? Done forgot what this is like, like a party. Hey there, Cora.” She waved to a little girl. “Viola’s grandbaby.”

  Elvis could be heard singing “All Shook Up” over the concession stand’s loudspeakers, which blared out across the split-rail fence. The last of the afternoon sun was a faint orange glow. The big screen, made of old housing planks, loomed up in the distance. JD came back to the car. “Johnnie’s daddy gone to get him a hot dog. You get me one?”

  “Don’t need no hot dogs,” Aunt Laura said. “Got plenty right here.” She held up a large brown sack. “Fried chicken, left over from last night, popped some popcorn this afternoon, and got some homemade oatmeal cookies. Now if that ain’t a feast.” She opened up the popcorn sack and held it out to JD.

  “We don’t need no food stand charging us twice what it’s worth,” Jessie said.

  “What about a Coke? I need something to drink,” JD whined.

  Jessie shook his head. “Naw, don’t need none of that.” He was watching the line of people approaching the stand. Suddenly, he flipped the handle on the car door and got out. “All right, I’ll go.” He held the door open and pushed JD in. “Get on in here and wait for me.” JD reached over and helped himself to more popcorn. Miss Laura held out the sack to him, but she was watching Jessie.

  “I mighta knowed Miss Self have something to do with that.”

  Jessie reached the line just in time to stand next to a group of women. One put her arm around Jessie and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The others laughed and patted him on the back.

  “Who are they?”

  JD looked up from the popcorn bag. “It’s Mama and Lou Ann and Izzy.”

  Miss Laura took the popcorn bag and offered some to Maudie. “Nobody else get your daddy outta the car that fast.”

  They watched as the girls laughed and talked to Jessie and most everybody else coming up to the line. Jessie motioned in their direction. All three women waved at the car. Two of them began walking toward it, all the while calling back over their shoulders the orders of food Jessie was to bring. They were dressed as if they might have found their outfits in a child’s box of dress-up clothes. The tight skirts and even tighter sequined tops were faded and stained, the pointed spike heels scuffed at the point. They sauntered over, waving to JD and Miss Laura, eyeing Maudie. “Hey, Miss Laura.” They began talking two cars away, high heels unsteady on the rough, patchy ground, making more out of the uneven surface than there was to make, walking to the looks they were getting. “Hear you done gone and had yourself a birthday.”

  Miss Laura watched them approaching, fingering the popcorn kernels she still held, mumbling under her breath. Maudie straightened her skirt and resisted the urge to glance in the rearview mirror.

  Izzy reached the car first, long black arms hanging over the edge of the open window. JD offered up the cookie box. She took two. “How y’all doing?” “Happy birthday to you, Miss Laura.”

  Miss Laura nodded her head. “Much obliged.” Lou Ann’s face joined Izzy’s in the window, ample breasts, covered by a tattered lace camisole, resting on the window frame. “Happy birthday, Miss Laura. Hear you done got yourself a visitor staying with you.” Lou Ann accepted a cookie and took a bite, all the while looking at Maudie. “You must be the one we been hearing ’bout.” She nudged Izzy. “Hear you come all the way from fancy Tuskegee, up here to the back woods, teach all our mens how to go to voting.”

  Maudie was determined to be nice. “And the women, too,” she said. They had come to make fun of her because Mr. Jessie had been making fun of her, but she would control herself. “The women should register to vote also.”

  “The women, too?” they both repeated, shouldering each other and grinning. “Well honey, I don’t ’spect you can teach me much,” the one named Izzy.

  “I ’spect us backwoods girls could dance circles round you, honey,” Lou Ann said. The reference to dancing, but still she was holding her temper. In the old days, she would have been out of the car by now, talking in their faces.

  “Jessie say you gonna teach the mens how to”—Izzy shifted her shoulders and wiggled her hips—“stand up and be counted.”

  Lou Ann banged her hand against the side of the car. “Izzy, you a devil.”

  And that was enough. Maudie looked out the front and then slowly turned toward them, resting her elbow on the window frame. “Looks to me like you already been teaching them how to lie down and be counted.”

  Miss Laura sucked in air. There was a moment of silence as the girls blinked in recognition, and then a burst of laughter and slapping of hands on the top of the car. “Lawd, Miss Laura, you done gone and got yourself a sister here. What’s you talking, girl?” Izzy turned to Miss Laura. “Sound like she been doing some counting herself.”

  Behind them, the third one had walked up—beautiful by comparison, a bright pink sheath and matching pink heels to broadcast the striking figure. “Sound like they teach them crippled girls more than walking down there at the cripple-girl school.” The ladies-in-waiting shifted aside, moving to the back window, still laughing.

  JD’s mother leaned down to pat the top of his head and say no to his cookie box, all the while keeping an eye on Maudie, looking at her hair and dress, staring at her leg brace. “Is that right? Do them doctors down there love them cripple girls?”

  “You hush your mouth.” Miss Laura reached over and pushed at the hands of the girls at the back window. “Don’t wanta hear no smart-mouthing from y’all. Get on outta here.” Izzy and Lou Ann backed out of the window, still giggling.

  JD’s mother held fast, playing with the curls on the top of JD’s head. “We just come over to wish you a happy birthday, Aunt Laura. We ain’t the ones doing the bad- mouthing.” She eased up out of the front window, bored by now. “Besides, we got to wait for Mr. Jessie to bring us our hot dogs, seeing as how he insisting on gettin’ ’em for us.” She bent down. “That right? You call him Mr. Jessie?”

  Jessie walked up, carrying a large box filled with Cokes, hot dogs, and candy bars. They gathered around him, taking one of each and laughing as they teetered away, walking the length of the front row of cars, carrying their hot dogs and Cokes and slipping the candy bars in their cleavage.

  He brought to the car what was left—three Cokes.

  “I didn’t get no hot dog? How come I didn’t get no hot dog and Mama and them others got one?”

  “Go on and crawl in the backseat. I brung you a Coke. You make yourself sick eating all that junk.”
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br />   “But you said—”

  “Mind me, boy.” He gave JD a hard swat on the fanny.

  The boy got to the backseat just as the lights went out and the cartoon came on.

  Maudie stirred her Coke with its straw and watched the screen, trying to let the drumming in her head slow. She pumped the straw up and down through the ice, wishing she had said more, wishing she hadn’t said a thing. Miss Laura held the popcorn bag up for her to take some. “Don’t pay no mind to them foulmouth women.” She patted Maudie on the shoulder.

  “Which one was JD’s mother?”

  “The good-looking one,” Jessie said. He reached over and got the sack of popcorn from Aunt Laura. “Told her I was bringing Aunt Laura to the movies tonight so she could go on out with them girls.”

  “Oh, and I’ll bet the good-looking one does just as she’s told.” Maudie jammed her straw up and down.

  “Sho do.” He washed down the popcorn with Coke. “What you ’spect?”

  “How long have you two been married . . . Jessie?”

  “Best-looking woman in the whole damn county.” He stuck his hand in the popcorn again and grabbed a fistful and crammed it in his mouth. “Fifteen years.”

  “Fifteen years? That’s been going on for fifteen years?”

  He turned on her. “You don’t know nothing ’bout my life, and it ain’t none of your business anyway.” He reached his arm over the back of the seat to lean closer to her. “Look at you. And you got to go disrespecting folks. Who you think you are, coming in here telling us how to do?”

  He grabbed her Coke, pulled it to him, and pitched it out the window. “You don’t deserve nothing to drink. If it wasn’t for Aunt Laura—”

  “Hush up there,” Aunt Laura barked. “Can’t hear what they saying up on the screen. Can’t see nothing, neither. Jessie, get back on over to your side.” She pushed at his shoulder. “That girl ain’t worth nobody arguing over.”

  Jessie jerked open his door, still staring at Maudie. “Why don’t you look at your own self ’fore you go talking ’bout somebody else.” He said it in a low voice the backseat wouldn’t hear. Before he left, he picked up her crutch, which lay on the seat between them, and pushed it over to her. “You ain’t nothing to be bragging ’bout.” He got out and slammed the door.

  On the screen, Roadrunner was suspended in midair at the top of a bottomless cliff.

  By the time he came back, the newsreel and the coming attractions had finished. Revenge of the Creature was starting. He opened the door and sat down, easing it closed. The smell of beer mingled in with popcorn. He took a sip and rested the can on the steering wheel, keeping his eyes on the monster.

  “What I smell, beer?” Aunt Laura said. “How you getting beer?”

  Jessie didn’t answer. He moved his arm, letting the can dangle out the window, pulling it back in to take drinks.

  They sat silently, watching the movie, only those in the backseat commenting. “That girl be crazy if she don’t know that creature down there in them woods waiting for her.”

  “The creature done got her under his spell,” Aunt Laura said.

  “Ain’t no creature made could get me down in them woods. Get on outta there, girl! Hand me them cookies, JD.”

  “Aunt Laura, you taking four cookies at a time.”

  “Lord, I’m gonna have to close my eyes if that girl take one more step closer to that no-good creature.”

  “Aunt Laura, you ruining the movie.”

  “I ain’t ruining the movie. It’s that no-count girl up yonder in them woods.”

  “The creature gonna control her and keep her doing what he want.”

  Aunt Laura raised an eyebrow and glanced at JD. “And what you think that creature gonna want outta that girl, Mr. Smart Boy?”

  JD helped himself to cookies. “Want her to cook and clean, probably got a house down there in the swamp.”

  “Yeah, uh-huh, that’s probably it.” Aunt Laura rolled her eyes.

  When the lights came on, JD was gone, chasing friends in and out of the rows of cars. Aunt Laura got out to stretch her legs and go look at Reverend Earl’s new food stand. There was a long line talking and laughing as they waited for a turn. Smoke rose from off the charcoal grill that sat to one side of the small wood building that held Cokes, candy bars, and anything else Reverend Earl thought might sell. The ticket taker had changed hats and was now the cook, being assisted by another boy. Aunt Laura could be seen inspecting the chicken and hot dogs on the grill.

  Jessie drank the last of his beer and rested the can on the window frame. “You want another Coke? I get you one.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “You want a hot dog?”

  “No.”

  He pitched the beer can on the ground, got out of the car, and slammed the door.

  Maudie sat alone, watching the movement all around her. By this time, Miss Laura had taken over the grill and was serving everyone who had paid for a bun and brought it to her. Some others had bought paper plates at the food stand as a ticket for the barbecued chicken. Smoke rose and curled along car tops. The loudspeaker from the white concession stand was playing Nat King Cole. “You’re so like the lady with the mystic smile . . .” His voice floated over the night air, drifting in and out of the smoke. “Many dreams have been brought to your doorstep . . .” Out of the corner of her eye, Maudie noticed Jessie with another beer, sitting on the split-rail fence and talking to a group that included other men and the three women. By now, Reverend Earl had joined Aunt Laura and they were serving up sauce on the barbecued chicken. Aunt Laura was taking hot dog buns from customers’ hands and warming them on the grill. Reverend Earl had put a white paper hat on her head, matching those of his other workers. Maudie leaned out her window to catch the conversation, but couldn’t, so she eased her door open and felt the gravelly ground with her crutch. It seemed stable. She got out and walked toward all the others gathered around Aunt Laura and the smoking grill that swirled its siren-song smell.

  The screen had gone to still frames of cartoon characters eating various concession-stand treats. Intermittently, it was flashing a countdown to the next feature. Ten minutes—and don’t forget the candy at the concession stand.

  She had almost reached the grill. Miss Laura had just looked up and was smiling at her when a sound—the rush of people backing away from the split-rail fence—stopped everyone and had them turning to see what was going on.

  From a distance, they watched the top rail, where Jessie had been sitting, roll off and rattle along the ground as all those in its path backed out of the way. Jessie had hit the ground hard. A white boy was standing over him. He looked much younger than Jessie, but just as big. Jessie scrambled to his feet and lunged for him.

  Off to the side, the three women were smiling. The white boy was trying to pick up a rail to swing at Jessie. It was too clumsy, and this gave Jessie time to run at the boy, butting him in the stomach, sending both of them into the black crowd on their side of the fence. Shrill whistles could be heard in the distance. The crowd—black and white—knew what this meant and began to rush away. Maudie, caught standing in the path of the runners, was knocked down, her crutch thrown up under a car. She kept her hands over her head until it was safe to look again. Four white men were trying to separate Jessie and the white boy.

  Maudie sat up and began brushing off her skirt. Reverend Earl rushed over to the fence.

  Jessie yelled at the men with whistles. “I got a right, much as anybody.” Two of the men, acting as security guards, pushed back the white onlookers, telling them to go to their cars. Reverend Earl did the same on his side of the fence.

  The screen said Two minutes left—be sure to buy popcorn.

  One of the security guards picked a beer can up off the ground and showed it to Reverend Earl. Jessie jerked away, said something to Reverend Earl, and they started to argue. Finally, Reverend Earl gestured for Jessie to get back on his side of the fence, and then he walked toward the white
concession stand with the guards and disappeared behind a back door that said, EMPLOYEES ONLY.

  Zero minutes till show time. The lights began to dim for the second feature.

  “JD, will you get under that car over there and grab my crutch?” Maudie had seen him near the car, holding his Coke cup, worry on his face.

  “They gonna get him and take him away?”

  She held out her hand for him to help her up. “No, they aren’t gonna take your daddy. Didn’t you see Reverend Earl go in there to talk to them? He’ll fix it. Must be talking to Old Bowie.”

  In a few minutes, Reverend Earl came out and walked over to Jessie. They both watched as he pointed a finger in Jessie’s face and lectured.

  “Under that one,” she said.

  JD handed her his Coke cup and scrambled under to get the crutch. “When I get big, Reverend Earl say I can have a job taking tickets. Gonna come out here every night, see every movie.” He stood up and handed her the crutch. “Reverend say I can do it.”

  “I’m sure you can,” she said, brushing dirt off her crutch. “When you get big, he’ll probably still have that same job open for you.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Jessie

  THE NEXT SUNDAY, Reverend Earl asked Maudie to walk with him to his truck, as he was late for a dinner on the grounds over at Pleasant Valley. He needed to talk with her for a minute. He was trying to get a sluggish battery to cooperate when he told her that Jessie’s atonement for fighting would be that he must come to her school for at least three sessions. “Is that what Old Mr. Bowie wanted, for you to make Jessie come to voting school?”

  “Lord no, child. Bowie don’t know nothing ’bout no voting school. If he did, he’d sure enough close me down.”

  The thought of having Jessie in a class for three sessions made her feel slightly panicked. She listened but said nothing. “You know Jessie a grown man. Can’t say he’ll come, but he usually don’t go back on his word.” He said he had told Jessie that it was either that or he wouldn’t vouch for him, and the security guards might have taken him away for drinking on the grounds. “Don’t know what come over Jessie sometimes. He’s usually not bad to get in with the wrong crowd. Plain as day, you ain’t supposed to be drinking on the grounds. That’s why I put that sign out there, to remind people.” The motor was whirring but not catching. He got out of the truck and lifted the hood. “Had to deal with Old Bowie ’cause of that. He the one run the place. Say next time that happen, he gonna close down my food stand, like it was all my fault.” After jiggling some wires, he slammed the hood down and got back in. “Can’t have that happen, no matter what.” The truck started on the next try. “Now you let me know if he don’t show. I’ll have his hide, much of it as I can.” He backed the truck around so it could get a good running start up the steep hill out to the road. He said that would give her one person in her class. He could tell the Highlander folks and the ones down at Tuskegee they did have some sort of class, not just the ladies coming to socialize. Her summer wouldn’t be wasted altogether.