Among the Living
Page 5
“You know, I ain’t asked you yet. You koshuh, Mr. Ike?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“Not at all.”
“So that’s something some Jewish folk do and some don’t?”
“I suppose. Yes.”
“I didn’t know that.” She smiled, and Goldah noticed the fineness of her cheeks as they rose toward the deep brown of her eyes. She went to the percolator. She checked something in the oven and then went across to a large cupboard.
“That’s the same with praying?” she said.
Goldah was struck by the directness in her question. He wasn’t sure how to answer. She said, “You can stop and start with that, too?” She refilled his cup.
“I’m afraid I don’t know the answer to that one.”
“Miss Pearl none too happy you not going with them this morning.”
Goldah felt this more strongly than perhaps he had expected. “Did she say something?”
“She don’t need to say nothing. I know when she’s feeling something, and this morning she was feeling she wanted you with her.”
“Maybe I’ll go next week.”
“Oh — so you’ll be getting your believing back by next week?” He smiled and she picked up a cloth, opened the oven, and brought out a long pan. The smell was of apples and raisins and she set it on the counter. She sprinkled a handful of sugar from the tin over the pan, then brushed her hands, set the pan back in the oven and closed the door. “You like fresh tomatoes with your eggs?”
She was at a bowl with a knife before he could answer. She cut the tomato into thick wedges and set the pieces on his plate.
“You leave any of that on the plate and Miss Pearl’ll really find her anger, and I’ll be in more trouble than you.”
There was a knock at the door and Mary Royal peered over through the thin curtain. She wiped off her hands and bent down to catch her reflection in a tin tray on the counter. Goldah had never seen — or perhaps couldn’t remember — such tenderly plied preparations for a man. Mary Royal pressed at her hair, rubbed her finger across her chin and cheeks, then straightened her blouse as she stepped to the door. Goldah saw only her back as she opened the door and said, “Raymond Taylor, I can run a clock on you. Mr. Ike having his breakfast inside.”
Goldah saw a moment of unspoken communication between them before Mary Royal stepped back to let Raymond Taylor in.
He was the young man on top of the ladder from that first day, not much taller than Mary Royal but far darker. His hair was cut close to the scalp with a thin part on the right, and he had small ears that sprouted like two sprigs of mint. He was carrying three large brown paper bags across his chest, each filled to the top. Goldah saw the deep strength in his forearms and the size of his shoulders, but it was the care between them that struck him most.
Mary Royal quickly took the packages from Raymond Taylor and set them on the counter. He smiled and nodded to Goldah. Goldah stood and extended his hand.
“Hello, Mr. Taylor. Good to meet you.”
Raymond’s eyes flashed. His smile remained fixed even as he shot a glance at Mary Royal, whose back was to them. She continued to unpack the bags.
“Take his hand, Raymond. He’s putting it out there for you.”
Raymond bobbed another nod and then took Goldah’s hand and shook it. “Yes, suh, Mr. Ike. Pleased to meet you.”
Mary Royal said, “Raymond comes every Saturday with groceries when Miss Pearl and Mr. Abe praying.”
“And I do deliveries sometime, too, for Mr. Jesler. I got a truck, take it down to Jacksonville or up to Charleston. Every third week or so.”
“He don’t need to know your schedule, Raymond. He knows it soon enough working with Mr. Abe in the store and all.”
Raymond nodded, as if to remind himself. “Mr. Jesler tell me about that. That sounds fine, Mr. Ike.”
“Raymond was in the war, too,” she said. “In Italy. I keep all the letters he sent, and I got a scarf he get me.” She opened the icebox and set a few packages in paper along the shelf. “He was in the fighting, not like most. Most Negro boys who come back did graveyards and mopping up. Raymond was a fighting man in Italy. We all real proud a Raymond.” She went back to the bags.
Raymond said, “She’s bragging on me too much, Mr. Ike. I just did what I was told.”
Goldah said, “Doesn’t make you any less brave.” He saw Mary Royal smile at this as she placed the last of the boxes on a shelf.
“Why don’t you take Mr. Ike down to the store,” she said and closed the cupboard. “He ain’t seen the store inside and I got things to do here and you got to get yourself going. That sound good to you, Mr. Ike?” When Goldah didn’t answer, she said, “Raymond’ll have you back in time for lunch. Then when Mr. Abe take you down this afternoon you already feel like you know the place. You meet Calvin and Jacob. Make it easier on you.”
Goldah realized the decision had been made long before he had come down this morning. “Yes,” he said, “that sounds fine.”
Raymond stepped over to Mary Royal and she put her hand on his chest. “He knows you get to kiss me, so you don’t need to show it in front of him. Take him down Drayton by the big park so he sees everybody walking out.”
She took a rag and stepped over to the drying rack and started in on the plates. Raymond leaned over and kissed her on the back of her neck before quickly heading for the door.
“That’s just fresh,” she said as she continued to dry.
“But mighty brave,” Raymond said. He opened the door and waited for Goldah to step past.
Out in the truck, Raymond said, “I drive a bigger one for Mr. Jesler when I make the city runs.” Raymond kept his elbow propped out the window as he took them by the park. In the wind his arm seemed larger still. He said, “This one just for inside Savannah.”
It was a Ford from before the war but Raymond had kept it up, the engine easing into gear each time he shifted. Goldah had placed his white fedora between them on the seat and was tilting his head toward the window so as to feel the air run past him. Goldah liked the way Raymond spoke.
“Sometimes I take Mary Royal and her people out to Tybee for picnics and such. We do some fishing, dancing. Make a day of it. You been out to Tybee, Mr. Ike?”
Goldah watched as the large houses began to grow closer to each other, the porches with only narrow strips of land between them.
“No,” he said. “Not yet. Pearl said the beach is better when the weather cools down.”
“That’s smart. Too hot right now. Better when the weather cools.” Raymond looked over at Goldah. For a moment he seemed unsure of himself. He looked back at the road. “That’s a fine hat, Mr. Ike.”
“White for the heat,” said Goldah. “Pearl made sure it was white for the heat.”
“White hat’s good for a man in Savannah come June and July. Maybe even as far as October sometimes.”
Again Raymond looked across at him, and this time Goldah turned just as Raymond was looking back at the road.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, suh, nothing wrong.” Raymond nodded to himself. Then, “Awful kind a you to give me your hand with Mary Royal, Mr. Ike, but maybe you shouldn’t be doing that no more.”
Goldah looked at the eyes focused on the road. If there was anger or resignation in them, Goldah couldn’t see it. “Because you’re black?”
“Yes, suh.”
“And I shouldn’t offer my hand to a black man?”
“No, suh.”
Goldah took a breath and thought, Was it really that easy to land on the other side of things?
Five minutes later, the truck came to a stop along a dirt alley that ran behind the store. Farther down, two men were unloading what looked to be glass jars of hair tonic, electric blue glinting in the sun.
“I’ll let you say your hellos,” Raymond said. “I got to make a quick trip. No more than half an hour and I’ll be back. You okay with that, Mr. Ike?”
“Me and Jacob fix this door up next week, Mr. Ike. He’s good with his hands. He’ll try to wriggle out a it, but I’ll make sure he does it.”
The smell of dank cardboard and shoe polish filtered through the ceiling-high metal shelves, each stacked with boxes. Raymond led them through. They came to an archway. Across from it hung a curtain that draped to the floor and, at the side, a narrow hall. Stools, ashtrays, and a cooler stood alongside the walls. This was where the carpeting began. Goldah heard voices from the other side of the curtain.
Raymond said, “We can wait here ’til Jacob comes back. Calvin should be here. Don’t know why he ain’t.” He shrugged. “You want something to drink, Mr. Ike?”
Raymond reached over to the cooler and fished two Coca-Colas from the ice. An opener was hanging from a string on the wall and he popped them both open. He handed one to Goldah.
“No reason we can’t cool off while we waiting.”
They heard footsteps before the curtain drew back. Calvin stepped through. He was in a white shirt, dark pants, and a bow tie. If he was surprised to see them he didn’t show it.
“Morning,” said Calvin.
“This here’s Mr. Ike,” Raymond said. “Mary Royal thought’d be good for him to come down early.”
“Morning, Mr. Ike. Raymond here try and kiss my granddaughter this morning?”
Goldah found himself smiling. “I believe he did, yes.”
“Well, between you and me, one day I think she might just let him.”
“ ‘One day,’ ” Raymond said. “That’s rich.”
“Good to meet you, Mr. Ike.” Calvin turned to Raymond. “You drop off them groceries?”
“Yes, suh. Dropped them off. What you doing dressed up like that?”
“Mr. Jesler says I get boxes on Saturday mornings so Jacob don’t have to leave the front empty when he needs them. Any more questions, Romeo?”
Raymond smiled. “No, suh, no more questions.”
“Good.” He took Raymond’s Coca-Cola. “Then go back and get me lady sizes six and six and a half, wide, Naturalizers, black. You going to need the ladder.”
“But I got them deliveries to Delaney’s … oh, never mind.” Raymond looked over at Goldah. “You take care a this old man, Mr. Ike, while I’m getting him his boxes. Make sure you help him to his seat.”
Calvin said, “Just get the shoes, son.”
Raymond stepped through the doorway and Calvin pointed to two stools.
“Care to sit, Mr. Ike?”
The two sipped at their Coca-Colas, Calvin staring straight ahead and taking his time with each sip. He had learned how to steal these moments for himself. There was nothing too considered, no glance at Goldah. Calvin’s was an absolute stillness; its depth was one Goldah understood only too well.
Raymond returned with the boxes and Calvin set down his empty bottle and stood.
“I’ll tell Jacob you here,” he said. “Then you can come on out.” Calvin took the boxes from Raymond. “And you gotta fix that door to the alley, son. It’s still sticking.”
“The door?” said Raymond. “I just said I got to get them Kaybee crates over to Delaney by noon otherwise he ain’t going to take them.”
“That’s fine with me, but that door ain’t going nowhere. It’d be here when you get back.”
“Fine.” Raymond looked at Goldah. “Don’t you worry, Mr. Ike. I get you back in time for lunch even if I have to saw that door in half.”
“Sounds about the usual kind of fixing you do,” Calvin said. He pulled back the curtain and stepped through to the store.
Raymond waited until the curtain had swung back before reaching over to the cooler for another Coca-Cola. “I see you later, Mr. Ike.”
Goldah sat and drank. He finished the bottle, set it down next to Calvin’s, and imagined this life as his own. It was a foolish thought, imagining what was clearly here: the frayed edge of the carpet, the carbonation in his throat, and the sound of footsteps approaching.
“Ike?”
Goldah stepped to the curtain and pulled it back. The store was empty save for Calvin and a white boy of perhaps fourteen. The boy was dressed in a perfect little suit, with a blue handkerchief folded at the breast pocket and his red hair slicked down to a razor-thin part.
“Ike,” the boy said again, his hand held out. “Jacob Gersons. Good to meet you.”
Goldah stepped through and took the hand. It was rough for a boy so young, and strong. “Hello.”
“You look well, Ike. No wear on you.”
Goldah imagined the boy had been practicing what to say.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Jacob did a quick inventory of the store with his eyes. “Pretty good, ain’t it? And you and me getting right in on it.”
Goldah had trouble following the boy, not just for the words but for the accent. It was duller than the Jeslers’, heavier, and without the polish. Goldah nodded.
“You were a newspaperman.” said Jacob. “That’s what I hear. Newspapers and writing. I been thinking about that, too.”
Calvin said, “Jacob thinking about a lot a things, Mr. Ike. Why don’t you show him the store, son.”
“In a minute, Calvin. In a minute. I’m getting to it. Men got to be able to make introductions, ain’t that right, Ike?”
“ ‘Men,’ ” said Calvin dismissively. “Why don’t you show him the store, son.”
“Yes, men. Like me and Ike. Ain’t I in a nice suit and handkerchief in my pocket?”
“You is, son. You is. Jacob here lives down in Yamacraw, Mr. Ike, but he’s getting himself out a there real soon, ain’t that right, Jacob?”
Jacob rolled his eyes. “Why you go and tell him that, Calvin? Got to go and tell him about Yamacraw and me here in my suit, and my hair pressed down. What you tell him that for?”
“Well, you do live down in Yamacraw, and you is fetching to get yourself out.”
“I’m making introductions here.”
“I suppose you is, son.” He turned to Goldah. “Mr. Jesler have Jacob here on Saturdays when he doing his praying. He gives him the suit. Got a cot in the back so the boy can stay sometimes the night before if we starting in early. Suit stays here the rest a the week hanging in the back. Don’t know where the boy gets his pomade.”
“ ‘Where the boy …?’ ” said Jacob. “I pay for it with my own money, if that’s what you care to know.”
Calvin laughed. “I know you do, son.” There was genuine caring in the way Calvin spoke to the boy. “It’s good what you doing. Mr. Jesler pick a good boy with you, and you get yourself out a Yamacraw real soon.”
“That’s right, he did. Mr. Jesler come up from Yamacraw same as me. And one day I get some boy to do my working when I go to shul for my praying. And Calvin still be here when I do it.”
“Well that’s just a lot a nerve coming from a boy,” said Calvin. He stepped over to the curtain. “You still want them boxes out here?”
Goldah turned to the front door just as the bell jangled and a young woman stepped inside. She wore her hat low on an angle, hiding much of her face from view. Calvin let the curtain fall as he took his place standing at the wall.
Goldah had turned — with the bell or before it, he didn’t know — but something had made him turn, and he now continued to watch the woman as Jacob smoothed down the back of his hair.
“I’ll be right back,” Jacob said quietly. “Just watch. See how it’s done.”
Jacob moved between the chairs and, with a voice Goldah had yet to hear from the boy, said, “Good morning, madam. Is there anything I can be of assistance with?”
The woman remained by the shelf, her back to them.
“Boy’s a natural,” Calvin said under his breath. “Smooth and clean. He’s moving her to the new ones in from Europe, even though he knows she’s coming in just to look. She’ll be
trying on one a those before she knows it.”
Sure enough, Jacob had her in a chair within a minute. He called Calvin over. Goldah watched as Jacob gave the styles and the size. Calvin moved quickly back toward the curtain.
“Okay if you come back with me, Mr. Ike?”
Goldah followed Calvin through.
“Best leave the boy to himself. Okay with me standing in the corner, but he don’t feel so important with you looking over him. Good for Jacob to feel important. He’s a good boy.”
They came to a stack near the back and Calvin’s eyes darted up and along the boxes. “Seven narrow,” he repeated to himself. “So you was in newspapers, Mr. Ike?”
Goldah had been letting his mind wander to other things, pleasant things. It took him a moment to answer. “Yes. I was a journalist.”
“And now you in shoes.”
“Yes, now I’m in shoes.”
Calvin found the box toward the bottom and crouched down for it.
“We got a newspaper here in town. Pretty good. Got some Jewish folk working on it. Not fancy like in Europe with the war, but maybe you want to do that some time, it’d be there.”
“Maybe,” said Goldah.
Calvin stood with the box in hand. “You go to college for that?”
“I did. Yes.”
“That’s how come you speak English so good?”
“I suppose so.”
“That’s real fine. And now you in shoes.”
“Yes. Now I’m in shoes.”
Calvin pointed over to another shelf. They found two more boxes and headed back to the front. At the curtain, Calvin handed Goldah the three boxes.
“If it’s okay with you, Mr. Ike, you go on in and hand them to Jacob. It’ll make him feel good to have you helping him. Important for a boy like that. Unless that’s not a good idea according to you.”
“It’s a fine idea, but I think maybe the boy finds himself important enough already.”
Calvin smiled. “Maybe he do.”
Jacob was standing by the shelf, the woman seated with her back to Goldah. He brought the boxes over, placed them on the floor, and Jacob said, “And this is the newest member of the Jesler shoe family.” Again Goldah heard the precision in the words so carefully practiced. “Mr. Jesler’s cousin — from Europe — Mr. Ike Goldah.”