Last period was Mr. Mirabelle with his overbite and droopy eyes. He stood in the front of the room drawing on the blackboard: atomic configurations and chemical bonding. There was only one chemical I wanted to bond with, so my imagination often took a detour: Demetrius. Oh, Demetrius. If I licked my lips long enough, I could taste him. Delicious Demetrius. He was so hypnotic. The way he walked. The way he dressed, always in the latest fashion. He was so classy, right down to his shiny socks.
After class, I followed him to his locker, thinking of that sports motto “You miss 100 percent of the shots you don't take.”
“Demetrius!?” My voice squeaked a little.
He turned my way. Understand, that was the closest I had ever been to him. His dreamy eyes and his liquid dark skin and thosepearly white teeth …
I swallowed and continued. “Hello. I would just like to welcome you to Dardoti Junior High.”
Demetrius gave me an up and down and said, “Thank you.” Then he walked away.
My chest heaved, and I giggled. Finally, I had at least made a connection.
I got home to see someone doing my job. Platform-shoed Horace parted the sheets, then folded them. I saw Ma behind him, tutoring (nagging) him in the firie art of domestic engineering. Ma was intolerant of ill-folded sheets and shirts that were not stupendously ironed. After she left, I asked Horace what was going on.
Horace sighed and told me, “I've been demoted to a woman.”
I hit him with a towel.
“After this week, basic should be a breeze,” Horace said.
“Daddy was maaaaaad at you,”I said.
“Maine, you just heard it. I heard it and saw it.”
“Was that vein popping out right here?” I pointed to my forehead.
Horace threw his head hack in laughter. “Yes, yes.”
“Good thing you're going into the service; you're gonna have Daddy on blood pressure pills. Why did you steal a car anyway?”
“I didn't steal the whole Pinto, just the hubcaps. It was a dare. The guys were in on it too. We did it to be stupid.”
“It was stupid all right.”
“It was just a prank, Maine. Didn't you ever want to do something that was totally nuts?” he asked.
I thought for a minute, then answered, “No.”
“Well, that's because you're the good one. The smart one. Now that I'm going away, it's up to you to hold-things together,” he told me.
“Me?”
“Yeah, you're the oldest now.”
I frowned. “I think I saw this episode on Bonanza. I don't want to be Hoss. I want to be Audra.”
“That's Big Valley,” he corrected.
“I know. I just want to be the girl. The girl is never responsible for anything.”
“This is nineteen seventy-five.” He picked up the laundry basket. “You're liberated now.”
“I'm liberated? What about you?” I asked. “This is the first sheet you've folded in seventeen years.”
“Charmaine,” I heard my mother call from upstairs. I ran to the steps. “Yes, ma'am.”
“Come with me to pick up Tracy John.”
William B. Evans Elementary was a five-minute walk from our place. Ma's pace was so brisk and purposeful that she cut the time in half. We walked past dogs, bicycles, tricycles/unpretentious American cars, and small to moderate-sized houses in a blur. Her eyebrows were knitted with worry.
“Ma, am I what you'd call a late bloomer?”
She didn't even tip her head in my direction. “Child, you ain't but fourteen.”
“Almost fifteen. I'll be fifteen in four months, and you were married at fifteen, remember?”
“That was different; that was the South.”
“It's not that different. There's this new boy who just moved into the neighborhood. His name is Demetrius. Demetrius McGee.”
“Charmaine, I have to concentrate on one thing at a time. I am going out of my ever-loving mind with Tracy John.”
“What did he do?” I asked.
“Fight.”
“Who is he fighting?”
“You know the Pembertons' boy.”
I knew the Pembertons. They lived on Orchard Avenue. They were all brown skinned and had large heads. Mr. Pemberton drove a truck for Coca-Cola. Mrs. Pemberton was a stay-at-home ma like my ma was. Ralph was their only child so far.
On a bench outside the classroom, Tracy John had mastered the art of widening his penny-colored eyes. He knew how to enhance his soft child's features for full benefit. His skin looked so soft and buttery.
He didn't have a scratch on him. I wondered what Ralph looked like.
“You two wait here while I talk to Miss Mullins,” Ma said.
Fuming, I watched her walk away. What, did she invite me down here so I could sit next to him?
“Why did you punch Ralph Pemberton?” I asked Tracy John flat out. Why make small talk here when we never really spoke at home?
Tracy John said nothing.
“Not talking? Then I'll find out some other way.” I got up and ambled over to the door. I put my ear to the oak. All I could hear were murmurs, ghosts of words. Frustrated, I decided to go back to the bench. I turned and backed up into Tracy John's feet.
“Go back to the bench and sit,” I told him.
“Go back to the bench and sit,” he told me.
“Go back to the bench and sit,” we said at the same time.
“Go.” Our words clashed again.
“Right now.” One more time.
He was really good for his age. I took another step back, grudgingly admiring his artistry.
I saw shadows approach the door.
Tracy John and I scrambled back to the bench and tried to look normal. I stared at the wall. Tracy John peered at the ceiling.
“Thank you very much, Miss Mullins. You will not have this problem again,” Ma told the teacher quietly. Ma was like the godfather, quiet in speech, but forceful in tone. During the walk home, I expected her to say something stern to Tracy John, but she didn't.
By the time we got back toe the house, Horace had made all the feds and had even spread a shawl at the foot of each one. Leo got back from dance lessons, his tap shoes slung across his shoulders.
When Daddy came home, I figured Tracy John was finally going to get it. I listened with my left ear and mashed a fork against the sides of the pan of gravy as Ma told him about her meeting with Tracy John's teacher. Flour lumps popped up like life preservers.
“She asked me if Tracy John's father was a white man,” Ma said
“What?”
“She asked if Tracy John was a mulatto.”
“She's one of us, and she made that mistake?” Daddy exclaimed. I snuck a peek at his raised eyebrows; then I quickly turned back to the counter.
“She probably was comparing my color to his,” Ma said. “I explained to her that Tracy John's mother had passed on.”
“What did she say?”
“She said, ‘Oh.’”
“Oh?”
“Yes, oh.”
“What in the devil does this have to do with some schoolyard fight?”
“Tracy John won't tell what it was about,” Ma said. “The teacher also said that he's very quiet.”
“What in the hell is wrong with being quiet? This world could do with more quiet people. I'll tell you right now, this teacher ain't wrapped too tight. She's the one who ought to be checked out.”
“She's young, Peyton. She looks like she's right out of school herself,” Ma said. I was taken by how they both were so full of excuses for Tracy John.
Then Daddy called him. “Tracy John, get your little tan self down here.”
Tracy John materialized promptly.
This ought to be good, I thought. At last, Tracy John was going to get what he deserved.
“Now, I know you know better than to go getting into trouble in school,” Daddy began, but his voice had already softened. “School ain't no time for none of that funny business,
you understand me? Now, you keep your hands to yourself.” He gave Tracy John a little slap on his bot' torn, so quick I bet it didn't sting. “Get washed up for supper.”
That's it? I wondered. What butt! That was the kind of stuff that made grass green. Manure. Or, as the French would say, merde.
I turned to see Tracy John walk away. He caught me spying on him, and he put his fingers in his ears and stuck out his tongue.
I glared at him as my eyes told him once and for all, I declare war!
“I can't believe Uppercase E would leave us holding the bag,” Daddy moaned. “All he had to do was show up in court and face the music. One thousand dollars gone. Doesn't he know that we lose all the bail money?”
As I listened through the wall to my parents' bedroom, my eyes were stretched as wide as my ears.
“All he had to do was face the music,” Daddy said.
“I'll clean houses, Eeyton,”Ma said; “Lain't proud.”
“Well, I am.… I just can't believe I've” been beat like this.”
When Leo came upstairs, I waved him over. He took a space beside me against the wall. “They're talking about Uncle E,” I told him.
“How are we going to meet the mortgage?” Daddy asked.
“Like I said, I'll step up my housecleaning. We'll make it,” Ma said in her calm Alabaman way.
I was unable to contain myself; my eyes were bulging and my mouth was agape. Leo took my hand and led me away.
“How could this happen? Why would he do us like that?”
“ 'Cuz he doesn't want to go to jail again, Maine,” Leo said.
“You know we could be put out into the street?” I asked him.
“Daddy won't let that happen.”
I hated Uncle E. He wasn't going to be happy until we were all in the poorhouse. He was the very definition of a two-bit criminal, forging checks to pay the water bill, shoplifting from Value City, getting caught with a nickel bag.… He had a scar on his left cheek like a stitched shoelace. He hardly ever shaved, leaving stubble like slivers of black ice. He was a year younger than Daddy but looked ten years older. Even worse, he behaved like he was twenty years younger.
I remembered how he had been released from jail to come to Auntie Karyn's funeral. Suited, this time shaven, but with a guard accompanying him. He was handcuffed, crying, and unable to wipe the tear from his eye or hold his little nephew.
• • •
“Spread out there, y'all. Don't work tit to tit,” Daddy told the boys. Horace, Leo, and Tracy John swept up the rubbish that careless people had thrown into our yard Daddy was really talking only to Horace, who was still on his bad side. It was the day before his ship date. Daddy went out every five minutes to oversee.
About his seventh trip to the yard, Daddy nodded approvingly as he surveyed the area. “That looks pretty good. Y'all come in for supper.”
Horace's face lit up in surprise.
“Y'all didn't think I was gonna work you to death.” Daddy winked at him. “Them days are over.”
The boys ran into the house and scrubbed up for supper.
“That's a right good job you boys did out there,” Ma said.
Tracy John sat up at the table. “Yeah, and this time we didn't work tit to tit.”
Daddy, Leo, and Horace laughed.
“What did I say about that word, Tracy John?” Ma said.
He covered his mouth and tried to look innocent.
Ma had made Horace's favorite: beef tips and baked macaroni. For dessert, she brought out a double-layer yellow cake with chocolate frosting.
“Who is the cake for?” Horace asked hopefully.
All of us pointed at him.
The doorbell rang.
“That's the other part of our celebration,” Ma said., “We asked your girlfriend over.”
“Carol's coming over?” he asked, rubbing his hands together.
Ma looked at Daddy.
“No, Robin.”
Horace's face dropped as he realized that our parents were perpetually on the wrong wavelength: Robin was so last month.
The doorbell rang again.
“Well, what are you waiting on, Horace? Get the door,” Daddy told him.
Horace begrudgingly got up, throwing his napkin on the table.
Robin was a trip. Big shiny tears welled up between her lashes and trickled in long drops down her cheeks. “Horace,” she called to him with her arms outstretched.
Horace swallowed, searching for the right words. “Robin,” he finally said.
She said she would have loved to be over sooner but had been getting her hair done. And, boy, was it done, arranged in a princess style, bangs and a high ponytail. She bared her huge bright teeth, talking a mile a minute over cake and ice cream.
“Did you know that my father got me a job at Gimbels? Did you know that, Horace? Your girlfriend is going to be a career girl.”
Horace just nodded and smiled.
“Are you gonna work in the shoe department like your father?” I asked.
“No.” She leaned into Horace and squeezed his hand. “The confection department.”
“That sounds important,” Ma said.
I suppressed a roll of my eyes and the urge to correct my elders. Didn't Ma know that confection was just candy?
In the living room, Robin joined us to watch the family show Sanford and Son.
I didn't find Fred Sanford amusing at all He'd berate his only son and call the sister of his departed wife ugly. Geoige Jefferson of The Jeffersons was even worse. George was supposed to be rich, but he never did anything rich besides living in a penthouse.
If I was rich, I would invest in art. Exotic art. I'd have my pad looking like a museum. When other rich people came over, I'd pretend that I knew what everything meant.
Fred called Lamont a dummy. Horace laughed so hard that he had his legs in the air and was slapping the chair's armrest.
At nine that night, the sergeant called for Horace. He just wanted to touch base for the next day. I wondered how many recruits chickened out and didn't show.
Next the bell rang. It was Mr. Clifford, Robin's father. He greeted everyone and told Robin to get her coat.
Daddy told Horace to get off the phone and say goodbye to Robin properly.
“I hope you become the most decorated soldier ever, Horace,” she said, and gave him a frank kiss in front of all of us.
“Thanks, Robin. You take care too. I hope the candy counter trfeats you right,” Horace said.
Not the most romantic words of parting I'd ever heard, but it fit. I looked at Ma, and she was tearing up. But I knew that this was nothing like the waterfall that would ensue at O-dark-thirty the next day.
• • •
Horace's recruiter, Sergeant Tay, was a six-foot-six, 236-pound Samoan: Though I wasn't into his military look, I had to hand it to a man who could look pulled together so early in the morning.
Daddy said he felt that Horace was in good hands with that “good-haired brother” seeing to him.
“Now, be sure to call us if things don't go right, you hear?” Ma said.
“It'll be all right, Ma,” Horace said.
Ma wore the same worried look she'd had when she had gone to get Tracy John from school. It was just like a movie. In my mind, the soundtrack music swelled. The chorus sang its ahhhhhahhhhhhhahahahaohhhhhhh.
Horace, Claude, and Sergeant Tay drove off in an aqua Ford with a GO ARMY! license plate. They disappeared into the darkness as we waved and yawned and sniffed back our tears.
“Well, y' all go back inside and grab some shut-eye. You don't have to be up for a while,” Daddy told us.
The house's only illumination was a soft, rich yellow kitchen light. I was still in my nightgown, but the thought of going back to sleep didn't appeal. Though I didn't have a real close relationship with my older brother, you get used to seeing a person every day and you miss him when you know that you won't see him anymore.
Ma put on a pot of coffee, and
Daddy pulled up a chair at the table.
Ma started scrambling eggs. I helped her, putting butter in the pan.
The boys wore mopey faces. The trio had been severed, and the duo of Leo and Tracy John just scuffled around like they didn't know what to do with themselves. Finally, they joined Daddy at the table.
“Buck up, all of y'all,” Daddy said in his round, deep voice. He patted Leo and Tracy John on their heads and looked at me and winked. “That's a part of growing up. You have to leave the nest. You have to spread your wingsiand fly.” Daddy made bird noises and flapped his arms, but even that didn't change the boys' faces. “Soon
it'll be just me and Mise Sweet Thang. All y'all will be up and grown.”
Ma poured him coffee and made the boys hot chocolate. They still looked forlorn.
“All fights y'all, damn. Y'all knew this day would tome,” Daddy said.
“How come Horace has to leave so earlf?” Leo asked.
“Ain't no such thing as an afternoon army.”
“Are they gonna take him out to the rifle range?” Leo asked.
“They ain't gonna do much with him the first day. Today is just to get settled. He'll meet people from all over the country. People come all the way from California.” Daddy smiled. My father had the best smile. It made the rest of the room fade into the background.
Ma and I set down steaming plates for them.
Tracy John just looked his over. “Does Horace get breakfast in the army?” he asked.
“Course, can't start the day on a cold stomach; He'll get lunch and dinner too,” Daddy said. “Three hots and a cot.”
• • •
Just as I was about to head out for school, Ma emerged from her bedroom in a pair of black heels, sheer nylons, a black skirt, and a standard white blouse.
“Where are you going dressed like that?” I asked.
She cut her eyes at me.
“I mean, where are you going so dressed up?”
“I got a job as a receptionist.”
Sweet Thang Page 3
