They Come in All Colors

by Malcolm Hansen

  Well?

  I don’t know. Maybe. I mean, God. I hope not. You’ll have to ask her. But probably not.

  Why?

  Because it’s a state of mind, that’s why! Heck, I didn’t make the world!

  Derrick says they come in all colors. Including very light—practically white. But you say they’re just stupid and lazy and you can’t trust ’em any farther than you can throw ’em. And Mama says that they only come in one color—dark. So which is it?

  Jesus! Just stop! Stop it already! Stop right there! You win! Okay? I give up!

  Well, which is it?

  For God’s sake, Huey. Which is what?

  Dad got up and headed off before I could answer. I ran after him.

  Where you going?

  I almost got hit by a car crossing Fourth Street. I chased after him past Third. He reached Nestor’s. He was standing at the front door, waiting for me with the door handle in hand.

  Well?

  Well, I ain’t gonna stand here and tell you different, if that’s what you’re waiting for.

  So one color, then?

  Christ, Huey—no! They come in all colors! Okay? Any more questions?

  No.

  Good. Damn it all. Thank the Lord.

  Dad tugged the door open. The bell jingled. He asked Nestor if he had anything new for a penny. For a boy in the doldrums.

  Nestor grinned out from behind the counter. First day of school got you down?

  I squirmed out from under Dad’s arm.

  Someone said something awful to him today. God knows what.

  Nestor handed me a peppermint. No spoiled mood a few sweets can’t cure.

  I popped it into my mouth and pulled Dad downward. I whispered in his ear from my tiptoes. He slapped a nickel on the counter and snatched up my arm and started for the door. It hiccuped shut behind us. He knelt down in front of me.

  Who said that?

  XXVI

  HE’S NOT IN SCHOOL?

  No!

  Where is he, then?

  He was in town with me. One second he was at my side, and the next he was gone. He just ran!

  Did you run after him?

  You didn’t hear him come in?

  I thought it was you.

  Someone said something to him at school.

  What?

  God knows. He just started hollering at me—asking me all sorts of crazy questions.

  Like what?

  Then those college kids come running over, yelling, Hey, mister! Leave that boy alone! They crowded around me. Started threatening me, said they were going to make a citizen’s arrest. Next thing I know, he ran off boohooing down the street. And I’m standing there, calling out for him to wait. Yelling at them to get the hell out of my way because he’s my boy. John came out of his damned store to see what was going on.

  What did you say?

  Told him that he’d better go back into his fitting room and sew on another button, is what I said. I don’t care if I’ve got to slug it out with forty acres and a damned mule, I will not tolerate being condescended to!

  Not to him, to Huey!

  He’s not in here.

  Check the back room.

  He must be outside.

  I heard someone come in. What’s he doing out of school so early? I smell peppermint.

  Follow the peppermint. Is it coming from the closet? I think he’s in the closet.

  Huey, is that you?

  I love you, son. I love you like the earth itself. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. Whatever I said, I’m sorry. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You hear? That’s all I meant to say. Now come out, wherever you are. I just meant you oughta watch what you wish for—if you wanna be more like me, I mean. We’re not as different as all that. Look—heck, I probably got emphysema and don’t even know it yet. Ain’t that right, Pea?

  Whose magazines are these?

  Magawhat—? Oh. Toby probably left those.

  What in the Lord’s name are these pictures of colored girls in thigh-high lace stockings and fully exposed brassieres?

  Gimme that. Huey, you in here?

  Huey, sweetie, it’s me. Mama. Here, look—I even made a special cake. Your favorite. That’s right, cupcake. Listen to your father.

  Check the bathroom. He might be in the tub. And how can you be sure it wasn’t the back door you heard?

  That’s where I was when I heard footsteps running up the drive. The front door swung open. I thought it was you. Because I got no answer, like I get after someone’s snubbed you in town.

  Huey! I’m losing my patience!

  You check the henhouse?

  Henhouse?

  What about the pump house? He could be anywhere.

  Check under his bed.

  His window’s open, and his trunks are gone!

  Snowflake’s gone, too!

  He ran away with Snowflake?

  He’s gone for a swim. Probably out by where the geese nest.

  How can you be sure?

  Check under his bed.

  I did!

  Don’t shout at me!

  I’m not shouting—he can’t swim!

  Then check for his dive mask.

  Where’ve you been? He broke that in a million bits. And then had the nerve to give it to Irma.

  Did you hear him leave?

  Stop yelling at me!

  I’m not yelling!

  I wanna know what on earth you said to him.

  He shouldn’t have cried as much as he did! Okay? That’s what. He was crying too damned much, and I told him so. Told him he shouldn’t have hesitated to pop that Bruce kid one.

  Crying?

  Yes. All the way down the street. Bumping into things. And if you would have done your job, I hardly think he would have taken it so hard! Babying him all the time. He isn’t made of porcelain, you know. He can take a couple of knocks. Got to. He should know by now that he doesn’t have to back down from nobody.

  Back down?

  That boy is old enough to know what’s worth crying over and what isn’t. Wailing down the street like that, knocking into things. People coming out of their shops, craning their necks outta doorways to see what was going on. An embarrassment! Like we haven’t had enough scenes like that around here already—and I told him so.

  You said that?

  Damned right I said it. Damn it all. He should have kept his chin up and taken his rightful place in line—yes, like a man!

  He’s eight!

  Doesn’t matter!

  “Chin up”? What on earth happened?

  The shame of having to shout out at him like that, in the middle of the street. My own flesh and blood. Saying he wished he looked more like me, saying how this life was a curse and how he wished he was dead because he didn’t look more like me—Never mind fussing with your hair! Grab your coat and come on! Put a hat on it, damn it!

  Stop! You hear that?

  Hear what?

  That.

  Under the house?

  There it is again.

  You check under the house?

  XXVII

  OUR HOUSE WAS RAISED OFF the ground by four sets of tar-treated railroad ties. Underneath was two feet of crawl space, filled with all manner of junk that had no other place to go. The most visible items poking out from under our house included four slashed tires, the remains of a busted window, a steering wheel, several oil filters, a pan seat, two mufflers, and a tractor tire draped in a tarpaulin, the creases of which held weeks-old rainwater.

  I think that might have been what Mom heard. I’d bumped my head against it. As I ran home from town, I was overcome with pangs of seller’s remorse. Having surrendered Snowflake to the bitter wild, I decided that I wanted her back. I knew in my heart that she wasn’t ready to be set free but I’d done it anyway. I could see that she wasn’t sure what to do with all that freedom, that it was too much for her little brain to comprehend. All that freedom being dumped on her all at once like that. I sh
ould probably have tested it out by giving her teaspoon-sized doses of freedom first. Perhaps let her run free in the den to start. What had I been thinking? And so strong was my desire to reclaim her that I ran into the house and grabbed a flashlight, then dove underneath that dark and moldy, godforsaken no-man’s-land underneath our house in an urgent search-and-rescue mission.

  Mom dug me out by my ankles. She marched me into their bedroom and told me to take a seat. I climbed atop her stiff bedcover, knowing full well I was going to get it dirty, but she told me to sit down on it anyway. Didn’t seem to care. She asked what on earth I thought I was doing. I tried to explain that I was looking for Snowflake, but she didn’t believe me. She kept interrupting me. Wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise. She had her mind made up that I was trying to run away and had taken Snowflake hostage, only to have lost her along the way. When I explained that I wasn’t Snowflake’s captor but her liberator, and that I’d freed Snowflake to roam the earth days earlier, she called me a little liar. So, yes, I guess I would consider that a turning point of sorts. Especially when she flicked that little pink slip in her hand that Missus Mayapple had given me to give to Dad—flicked it not at me, but at Dad—then cautioned him to butt out. This was for her and me to sort out. She turned to me and said, Then what happened?

  And then she set me out. Like a dog.

  You’re not making sense, Huey. Your father knows Edna. She wouldn’t do that.

  Everyone came right out and said straight to her face why I’m not allowed in Mister Abrams’s pool no more. That all that time I’d been going there, I wasn’t supposed to be going there. Had no business going there. Wasn’t supposed to even be in there. To be allowed in the front door—my voice cracked—because it’s against the law. That I was breaking the law. That they’d been turning a blind eye to it all this time but couldn’t continue doing that anymore. And that I was nothing but a common criminal for breaking the law. And finally someone put their foot down and insisted that Mister Abrams stop letting me do it—my voice cracked again—and that. And that. And. Th. Th. Th. Th. That Dad stop bringing me! That. Th. Th. That he cut it out. And p. P. P. Put an end to it. So he did—closed it up with that st-st-st-story of someone breaking in. Just to soft—soft—soft—soften th-th-th-th-the blow! Thinking that if I couldn’t swim in it, then no one could. Because that was only fair.

  I could not make the crying stop. Mom squatted down in front of me.

  Did anyone lay a hand on you?

  I looked down at my hands. My cast was filthy. For some reason, the sight of it made my eyes well up.

  Bruce Levitwerner called me a nigger. They all did. Said none of this wouldn’t ever have happened if it weren’t for me. That it was all my fault.

  Mom looked over her shoulder. Dad was standing in the doorway.

  I’ve asked you not to use that word—remember?

  Now, hold on—

  I will not. You were very smug about it. You said not to worry because you only used it when no other word would do, and you kept insisting there’s a particular type of person you have in mind when you say it and you only use it to describe that kind of person. That you don’t mean to be hurtful, but that in certain cases there’s no getting around the cold, hard truth of it because no other word will do, and if someone feels bad about it, then so be it. That’s their problem.

  Christ almighty. You asked what one was.

  It wasn’t honest, Buck. It was hurtful.

  I told you I was sorry then, and I’ll tell you again if that’s what you want, because you’re gonna rake me over hot coals every chance you get. A couple of stupid little slips of the tongue and all of a sudden everything’s about some stupid little word. Hell, don’t ask a question if you don’t want the answer. You said you wanted the truth, so I told you. Lord knows if we lived anywhere else, I might understand, but—

  Here?

  Lord, not now.

  Where I live like your hel—

  Pea, please. You can’t imagine the day I’ve had.

  Does Evelyn ever so much as acknowledge me?

  Pea, I’m begging you.

  How about Eula? Or Mildred? Or Lenore?

  Pea, it ain’t exactly easy for me, either. Listen, I hate to spring it on you at a time like this, but I’ve got bad news. I don’t think we’re gonna get the loan.

  I don’t care about that stupid loan!

  You say that now. Goddamnit! But just you wait till more coloreds start getting tools and a little credit. Where will we be then? So I went to the bank today, figuring to do something about it. Hell, two can play that game. Only it turns out some new fella Walter’s brought in from one of the bigger branches in Blakely has taken over our account.

  Not once in eight years, Buck. Eight years! And now you can’t even say that it’s all good so long as Huey goes to Good Intent.

  You’re not listening to what’s important, Pea! This new fella’s name is Frederick Hempel, right? And right off we got off on the wrong foot. He’s wound tight as an acorn. When I called him “Freddy,” thinking I was being friendly, he said that he preferred it if I called him Mister Hempel. So I said fine, but that that’s just how we are down here, Mister Hempel. And then, as an aside, pointed out that he’s not from around here, and how maybe it’s different up in Blakely, but down here—well, it might be a good idea to learn how we do things down here, is all. Especially if he’s gonna be our new loan officer. And all the while, he’s sitting behind his desk there with his neck erect, stiff-lipped, face turning the color of an overripe mayhaw, staring at me deadpan. He told me to sit down and then, cool as a cucumber, pushes a stack of papers my way and starts asking me if I know the number for equity this and financing that and amortization of equipment as a multiple of escrow reduction times write-off value on a cost-average basis, estimates of production orders, yearly mumbo-jumbo per annum—was making my head spin, Lord knows. I told him this is a family business. I’m not some goddamned upstart like John Rinkel. Said how he better watch his mouth because I might take offense. And he better not forget it. How the hell does he think Grampa Frank got that rolling hilltop with orchards spilling out over half of Early County, anyway? Jesus Christ. Last I checked, I was still a Fairchild. I mean, I am still a Fairchild, ain’t I? We been doing this for over a hundred years. I slapped his desk and told him so. Said, so what’s there to know? And the way he looked at me—you should have seen the way he looked at me. I mean, the way he looked at me, well—it just—do you have any idea how that made me feel?

  I bet the day your grampa died wasn’t so trying.

  That’s right. And I’m sorry. Okay? I really am, Pea. I know that over the years, maybe some things I’ve said have rubbed you the wrong way. But telling things as I see them is in my blood, Pea. It’s what makes me who I am.

  Because there’s no reason to be anything less than completely forthright in this world, because the rest is just standing on humbug pretense. And you don’t believe in that.

  Is that so bad?

  Then how come you weren’t forthright about Huey having been ousted from Stanley’s pool, Buck?

  What are you talking about, ousted from the pool?

  Mom shook her head. My new black high-tops were choking my feet. I’d tied them all the way up to the topmost eyelet. Boy, was that a mistake. I untied them and kicked each one off. When I looked back up, Dad was tossing his arms into the air.

  Oh Jesus, Pea. That was different. We’re not talking about playing around in a damned kiddie pool. We’re talking about having the wrath of a community unleashed on us.

  You were trying to downplay how the world’s closing in on Huey here, and you know it. Which is the same reason you’ve been telling him all summer that he might not be able to go back there again.

  Because I realize he’s too young to drop off there alone.

  Because you’re afraid he’ll get blindsided.

  What are you talking about, blindsided? I want to be there with him when he learns to swim
.

  Which you still haven’t taught him.

  I’ve been busy!

  Oh, Buck. Can’t you see? It isn’t like when he was a baby. People are different with him now. It’s only natural that they’re going to be different with him as a boy than they were with a baby. And they’ll be different with a young man than they are with a little boy. Can’t you see that?

  Don’t you think I saw it today?

  And so now what?

  What am I supposed to do?

  March him right on down back to that school!

  Dad froze. What’s that smell?

  I looked up from my bare feet. I’d taken my socks off and was massaging them, trying to get the color to come back. Don’t look at me.

  Dad sniffed. Something’s burning.

  It’s the roast.

  Dad went as far as the threshold. Where’s the plywood for the other windows, anyway?

  I’d fix what’s already broke before I worried any about boarding up the rest of those windows.

  And I thought I told you to be ready to leave.

  Mom held up her finger. Enough.

  Dad walked briskly to the bedroom window and pulled back a corner of the curtain. He peeked out.

  You need to be more worried about what’s going on inside than outside.

  I’m not going to have this house burnt down!

  Dad headed back into the kitchen and shoved his keys into his pocket, then froze in the hallway with his eyes pinned on the front door.

  Did you hear that?

  It’s probably just a damned raccoon!

  No. Someone’s creeping around out there!

  Dad picked up the board leaning against the wall and fell quiet. Something scuttled past the open doorway.

  Snowflake!

  I cornered her in the bathroom and scooped her up. She was damp, smelly, and covered in dirt, soot, and cobwebs. She’d lost a lot of weight, and her little heart was racing a mile a minute. She was looking at me bug-eyed, like she’d had a real intense adventure.

  Huey! Dad was returning from the shed with more boards in hand. What’d you do with my paint thinner?

  Paint thinner? You’re worried about missing paint thinner?