Passing Through Perfect

by Bette Lee Crosby

  “He was driving a blue truck,” Benjamin added.

  “That ain’t much neither; you yourself drive a blue truck. There’s likely hundreds of them right here in Bakerstown.”

  “This truck had a whitewall tire on the back wheel. There ain’t many like that.”

  “Probably not,” the sheriff conceded, “but I can’t offhand say I seen a truck like that around Bakerstown. Could’ve been somebody passing through.”

  “Cross Corner Road don’t go nowhere. Ain’t no reason for a passerby to be driving that road.”

  “True enough.” The sheriff pulled a single-sheet form from his desk and scratched out a line or two. “I’m gonna look into this, Benjamin. You just sit tight and leave this to me. If the responsible party is here in Bakerstown, I’ll find him.”

  Benjamin stood. “Thank you, sir. I’m mighty grateful.”

  The sheriff nodded. “Don’t you worry, Benjamin. Just go on back to work and take good care of your boy.”

  As soon as Benjamin was out the door, Sheriff Haledon slid the paper under a huge stack of others.

  “Damn shame a thing like this has to happen,” he said, and that was the end of it. Haledon was originally from Wisconsin and had no problem with the coloreds, but he also wasn’t ready to butt heads with Mayor Wilkes who was fifth-generation Alabaman.

  A week later Isaac was released from the hospital with a plaster cast on his leg. Benjamin checked him out and left owing the hospital one hundred and eighty-seven dollars. Since his daddy had gone back to work by then, Isaac was brought home to stay with Luella.

  Thus began a new chapter of Benjamin’s life. With Doctor Goldsmith’s help, he’d struck a deal with the hospital. In exchange for wiping clean his debt, he would clean the colored ward every night for one hundred and eighty-seven days. He’d mop the floors, empty bedpans, carry trash to the Dumpster, and do whatever else needed doing. It had the sound of a hard bargain, but Benjamin was thankful to get it.

  Every morning he rose early, drove into Bakerstown, and continued the handyman work he’d done for the past two years. In a single day he might paint the porch of a house, cut back a row of unruly oaks, and clear the soot from a chimney, but at the end of the day he’d head over to the hospital. Some nights he was too tired to drive home, and he’d pull the truck around to the back lot of the hospital and lie down across the seat. In the morning he’d be stiff and bent, but still he’d push on to the next job.

  When the pain would settle into his back and shoulders it was a welcome relief, because it pulled him away from the more painful thoughts of Delia that troubled his heart.

  Regardless of what job he was doing, every hour of every day Benjamin had his eyes open watching for the blue truck. Sooner or later either he or Sheriff Haledon would find it, of that he was almost certain. Day after day he returned to the sheriff’s office and asked if they’d found the owner of the truck yet. The sheriff would generally give a helpless shrug and say, “Not yet, but we’re still looking.”

  On days when Benjamin encountered Deputy Moran, his answer would be a hard-edged “Nope” and nothing more.

  Weeks passed and Benjamin settled into this grueling new routine. He worked until his arms ached and the muscles in his thighs quivered when he stooped to lift a load of bricks or lumber. He took to carrying a blanket and pillow in the truck; then when he left the hospital too exhausted to even raise an eyebrow he’d make a bed in the flat bed of the truck and sleep like a dead man. It was never for long, because at the first break of day his eyes would open and he’d drive home to feed the chickens and the dog. He’d throw some water on Delia’s vegetable garden, then turn around, drive back to town, and start whatever job he had for that day.

  From the money he collected he held back enough to pay Sylvester Crane’s monthly land fee, buy a bit of fatback, a jar of molasses, and some ready-made biscuits. He bought nothing for himself and saved every extra penny, hoping one day he’d have enough for Isaac to go off to college. With Delia gone Benjamin took her wish for Isaac and made it his own; it was his way of hanging on to a small piece of their life together.

  Sunday was the only day Benjamin set aside and did no work other than the hospital cleaning. Sunday was a day reserved for Isaac.

  Saturday night when he finished his work at the hospital, Benjamin most always drove home. He’d sleep for a few hours, then rise, scrub the grime from his skin, pull on a clean shirt, and head over to Luella’s to spend the day with his boy.

  After the third week, Isaac started asking to come home.

  “There ain’t nobody home to see to you,” Benjamin said. “I thought you liked being here ’n having Jerome to play with.”

  “Yeah, well, now I’m sick a’ being here,” Isaac answered.

  At first Isaac welcomed the thought of staying at Luella’s house. But when Jerome lost interest in a playmate who barely hobbled along, they started to squabble. Two days ago the weather turned blazing hot, and Jerome went off to the pond. They hadn’t spoken since.

  “Jerome’s got no interest in playing with me,” Isaac complained. “And there ain’t nothing else to do here.”

  “With me working all the time, there ain’t nothing much to do at home neither,” Benjamin replied.

  “Yeah, there is,” Isaac said. “Mama got me some books for fun reading.”

  Benjamin had already counted up the millions of reasons he had for missing Delia; this was one he’d forgotten to add to the list.

  “Your mama did that, did she?”

  “Yes, sir. She said they was for fun reading, ’n I’d get smarter if I done it.”

  Benjamin gave an apprehensive smile. “There’s nobody at the house; don’t you think it’d be better if I bring those books over here?”

  “Unh-unh. I figure it’s better if I come home.”

  After a fair bit of back and forth on the subject Benjamin agreed that on Sunday, a week from the day, he’d come to take Isaac home.

  “I got a few arrangements to make,” he said, “so you got to wait a week.”

  That week Benjamin took every job he could get. The day he did the patchwork on Hiram Lettinger’s roof, it was near dark when he finished. He was late getting to the hospital and didn’t finish cleaning until a few minutes before the sun broke free of the horizon.

  That night he didn’t sleep at all. Still he pushed through the next day and the day after. This was the last week he’d be working these hours, so he had to make the most of them.

  He’d already spoken to Mamie Beasley who was in charge of the colored wing of the Bakerstown Hospital, and she’d given an okay for him to come in at four o’clock each morning to do the cleaning.

  “Just make sure you’re done by nine,” she’d warned, and Benjamin happily agreed.

  When the end of the week rolled around, Benjamin took his earnings and stocked up on things he wasn’t used to buying. He got five cans of soup, sliced bread, peanut butter, and a can of Spam. It wasn’t the same as the hearty stews Delia made, but at least the boy wouldn’t go hungry. He also bought Isaac three comic books. He reasoned that although it was a good thing to have an eye to the future, there were times when a man had to be living for the day. This was one of those times.

  On Friday morning he went by Bessie’s house and asked if she could look in on Isaac every so often.

  “’Course I will,” she nodded. Although she said nothing else, judging by the look of Benjamin’s clothes she figured he could also use some help with the laundry and cleaning. That afternoon she hitched the small wagon to the mule and visited five of Delia’s friends.

  “It’s time we step up to help,” she said, and no one disagreed.

  Viola said she’d be willing to take care of the laundry. Bertha agreed to do the cleaning, and Rosalie said she’d have her strapping sixteen-year-old son come over and chop firewood for the stove.

  “Boy’s lazy as a log,” she added, “but when I tells him to do something, he knows he got to get it done
.”

  Friendship wasn’t a thing that needed to be repaid, but when Bessie Mae returned home she could almost see Delia smiling down from heaven.

  Benjamin

  Sheriff Haledon is a good man. He’s fair, and I’m trusting he’ll find the truck that killed Delia. Yes, Isaac’s just a boy, but he knows to tell the truth. I don’t for one minute think he’s lying about what happened. It’s a fact that Deputy Moran got a sharp tongue ’n don’t care much for colored folks, but the law is the law. The law’s got to do with right ’n wrong, it’s got nothing to do with colored or white.

  It ain’t gonna be easy having Isaac living home, but I’m still looking forward to it. I’ve been staying away most of the time because all this quiet keeps reminding me of how much I lost. Now that Isaac’s gonna be here I can’t be thinking of how much I lost, I gotta be thinking of how much I still got. I’m Isaac’s daddy, and I got to look after him.

  A man don’t like to say he’s got weaknesses, but if I was to be honest with myself I’d admit I need that boy as much as he needs me. He’s all I got left in this world and as long as I got him, I still got a piece of Delia.

  The Blue Truck

  Benjamin worked late Saturday; then he went to the hospital and did the Sunday morning cleaning. He napped for two hours in the back of the truck, then stopped in at Will’s gas station and washed his face. Afterward he headed out to Luella’s. It was early, but Isaac was ready and waiting.

  “This young’un’s been counting off the days ’til you come,” Luella laughed. “I’d say he’s a mite anxious to get back home.”

  Benjamin smiled. “I been kinda anxious myself.”

  Luella handed him a plate. “Here’s a bit of ham and blueberry pie for y’all,” she said. “And if you get to needing something else, just come on back.”

  “We’re gonna do just fine.” Benjamin gave Isaac a wink as he lifted him into the bed of the truck. He’d padded it with rags and blankets so it was soft enough for a baby.

  On the trip home Benjamin drove slowly and tried to avoid the deep ruts that would cause the truck to bounce its cargo. Being cautious, he swung into a wide turn as he left Cross Corner Road and started down the lane that led to the house.

  As soon as Benjamin switched the motor off he caught the smell of stew simmering, and when he opened the front door it came at him full force. It was an aroma so familiar he could almost believe Delia was there.

  For nearly a month he’d been coming and going without stopping to look around the house. He’d worn the same shirt for days on end, and when it got too crusted with dirt to wear again he’d tossed it onto the pile on the bedroom floor. He’d left coffee cups on the table and not once swept the floor, but now everything was clean. On the table there was a note saying “Welcome Home.” It was signed by all of Delia’s friends.

  That night when Benjamin and Isaac sat down to a supper of opossum stew and blueberry pie, the two empty chairs loomed larger than life.

  “It’s just you and me now,” Benjamin said sadly.

  In a move that was far beyond his eleven years, Isaac stretched his arm across the table and touched his hand to Benjamin’s.

  “It’s gonna be okay, Daddy,” he said. “I miss Mama too, but leastwise we can be missing her together.”

  Benjamin heard Delia’s words in their son’s voice, and a lump came into his throat. Isaac was the last remaining piece of Delia.

  As they were clearing the supper dishes from the table, Benjamin came to the boy and hugged him to his chest.

  “I love you, Isaac,” he said. “I love you same as I loved your mama.”

  Once Isaac was home, Benjamin changed the way he was living. While the boy was still fast asleep, he would set out a breakfast then leave to clean the hospital. Afterward he’d do a job or two, but in the late afternoon Benjamin would quit working and start home. He made money enough for food, kerosene, and the few other things they needed and still had time to spend with Isaac.

  That summer Benjamin came to know the soul of Isaac as he’d known the soul of Delia. On warm nights when the sky was still light, he’d hitch the mule to the small wagon and they’d go off together. Sometimes they fished and sometimes they went in search of a rabbit or squirrel they could hand over to Bessie for cooking. But there were many nights when they simply sat on the porch and talked.

  In the first months of winter when darkness came early, Benjamin began to worry about the boy coming home alone. By then Isaac’s cast was off and he was walking back and forth to the schoolhouse. It was a good two miles but the last mile was along Cross Corner Road, which caused Benjamin’s concern.

  It was a Tuesday in early November and he was in the middle of tar-papering the roof of Sam Preston’s shed when a queasiness started rolling through Benjamin’s stomach. It wasn’t what he’d eaten nor was it something you point a finger to and say this or that is the problem. It was what Delia had called a premonition.

  In Alabama the worst storms occurred in the heat of summer. Lightning, thunder, tornados. They came when the ground was blistering and ready to explode. November rain was soft, showery, refreshing almost. Benjamin looked up at the sky and saw the angry dark clouds pushing against one another. He stopped hammering and listened. In the distance he heard the rumble of thunder, and that’s when he scrambled down from the roof. He knocked on the back door and told Sam, “I’ll be back tomorrow to finish up,” then climbed into his truck and headed for home.

  Benjamin circled around the back road and past the First Baptist Church; then he turned onto Cross Corner Road to follow the path Isaac would take. He was looking for the boy to be walking along the roadside so he drove slower than usual. During the past three months he’d grown accustomed to checking the tires of every blue truck he saw, but on this day he had greater concerns. He was worrying over Isaac and not focused on the truck that came rumbling toward him. If it hadn’t crowded him onto the shoulder of the road he might never have noticed the rear wheel, but as the truck flew by Benjamin glanced across and saw the whitewall tire.

  Making a quick three-point turn, he followed the truck back into Bakerstown. Just as Isaac said, the driver was a bearded man. The truck turned down Beaver Street and then pulled into the parking lot of the billiard parlor. The driver climbed out of the truck and disappeared through the door.

  Benjamin parked a short way down the street and sat watching the truck. He thought about Isaac and prayed he’d gotten home safely. What to do, he asked himself. If he left to get Sheriff Haledon, the man might leave; then he’d have nothing. And if the sheriff wasn’t around Benjamin knew the deputy wouldn’t take action.

  There was no way for Benjamin to follow him inside. On the front door of the billiard parlor there was a sign saying “No Coloreds,” so he’d be stopped before he crossed the threshold. The only thing he could do was wait. Wait and follow the bearded man back to wherever he lived.

  Benjamin climbed out and walked across to where the blue truck was parked. The left headlight was smashed, the hood and front fender dented. He touched his hand to the indentation and knew for certain this was the truck that had killed Delia.

  There was no shotgun in Benjamin’s truck nor was there a knife. He had a toolbox. A box filled with hammers, screwdrivers, and a sledge, any one of which could be used to kill a man. Isaac’s words echoed in his ear. It weren’t no accident. Damn niggers. This man was someone who deserved to die.

  Had Benjamin found him in the week following Delia’s death, he would have done it without pausing to consider the consequences. But in the last three months things had changed. Benjamin had always loved Isaac, but Delia had been the one close to the boy. She’d been the one to soothe his hurts and help him build dreams. With Delia gone, he was all Isaac had left.

  Benjamin thought back on the sheriff’s words: sit tight and leave this to me. And he waited.

  It was close to midnight when Luke Garrett stumbled out of the billiard parlor and headed for home. Benjamin switc
hed the ignition on and followed. He stayed a fair distance behind and drove with his lights off. Just outside of town, Luke veered off the main street and headed for Cross Corner Road. Benjamin stayed with him.

  When they passed the narrow drive that led to the house, Benjamin saw a lamplight in the window. Isaac had gotten home safely. He knew the boy would be fearful about him not coming home, and after all that had happened that thought tore at his heart. This would be the only time, he promised himself. He had no choice but to follow the bearded man so he could report back to Sheriff Haledon, but that would be the end of it. The law would take it from there. He would never again leave Isaac alone to worry.

  About four miles past the house the blue truck turned down a side road with no name, a stretch of dirt that ran past a field of burned-out farmland; the truck stopped alongside a small house. Benjamin pulled his truck behind a thicket on the shoulder of Cross Corner Road, got out, and walked up the dirt road. The night sky was thick with clouds, and dark as it was he had to feel each step carefully. He couldn’t afford to stumble and fall. In the stillness of this night even the slightest noise would be a giveaway.

  Once he was closer to the house, Benjamin stopped and listened. No dog. Good. He crouched low and slowly moved across the yard.

  The house was dark and when he peered through the side window Benjamin saw nothing. It was several minutes before a lamp flared and a yellowish glow lit the room. Pressing himself flat against the building to avoid detection, he watched as the man opened a cupboard and pulled out a whiskey bottle. He took a long drink from the bottle, then moved off to a room somewhere in the back of the house.

  This was where he lived, Benjamin was certain of it. Tomorrow morning he would share his finding with Sheriff Haledon and justice would be done.