by Lisa Samson
He just didn’t want to leave the world without having seen this view as much as the tourists did. That just didn’t seem right. It was really their bridge, after all. His and all the people, their families, who’d lived around here for only the Lord knew how many years.
And he felt tall here. Maybe God could see him a little more clearly. He wanted to make sure God remembered him, what he looked like, when he stood on an even higher plane.
It wasn’t but the next day after May arrived that Sister Ruth made her presence known. Claudius knew he couldn’t escape her eagle eye for too long.
Sister Ruth was a longtime teacher of history and sometimes English at the local high school, and an even longer-time widow. She’d been widowed so long she seemed like a spinster to everyone who hadn’t grown up with her. She fancied brightly colored blouses, pressed slacks, and gold jewelry. And though slender, Ruthie was hardly graceful, and when she walked across the wooden floors at church, it sounded like Brother Albert, who was at least four hundred pounds—if he’d been wearing high heels to service, like Sister Ruth always did.
Claudius always wondered who she was trying to impress with those shoes. One time he asked his mother, and she said, “Well, now, honey, sometimes women dress up like that just for themselves.”
“Not for the men?”
This was about twenty years ago, and Sister Ruth had just left their house. She’d helped put up tomatoes so she could take some for the winter, and she looked like she was ready for an interview on the television.
“No.” Mother set the jars in a wood crate. Her gray hair had escaped its French twist. She always wore her hair like that. When she was a teenager she’d gone to France. But she never told him why.
“She doesn’t want the men to find her attractive?”
“Of course she does. She wants men to want her even though she doesn’t want them. It’s complicated.”
—Good thing I never did get married, I guess.
Now Sister Ruth climbed down out of her old red Suburban. She was rehearsing something, Claudius figured, the way she was mumbling to herself.
May was setting the table for a quick lunch of saltines, egg salad, and canned peaches.
“You’re my distant cousin,” Claudius said as he peered through the window on the kitchen door, pulling aside the lawn curtain barely an inch.
May looked up. “What?”
“Sister Ruth is coming up the walk. I just don’t feel like explaining the situation. She goes to my church. We been friends since before there was dirt.”
“Uh-huh. Okay. Mom’s or Dad’s side?”
He pulled at his bottom lip. “Dad’s side. They’re obscure, remember?”
“Got it.”
Sister Ruth’s knock vibrated the door.
Claudius let her in. “Mornin’, Ruthie.”
“Good morning to you, Mr. Borne.”
—Oh dear.
She crossed her arms, brown hands with all their gold rings resting on her bloused forearms. The woman sure did like magenta. She looked from Claudius to May and back again, and again, her spine stiffer than a fence post, neck back a little, looking down her nose at the both of them. Her black hair was pulled back into a fake bun she clipped over the nubbin of real hair. Claudius always thought Sister Ruth had long hair, but one day she was slain in the Spirit, threw herself onto the carpeted aisle, and her fake bun got caught on Brother Ben’s sleeve button and off it came. She didn’t even realize it, which meant she really must have been overcome by the Spirit of God, Claudius always figured.
“I’d like you to meet a cousin of mine. From my father’s side of the family. Three times removed. She was doing family research and found us.”
He’d never been slain in the Spirit, and he wasn’t quite so sure that was a gift from God he wanted anyway. Just the sweet stirrings as he plowed were enough. And he doubted he would even have any more of those with the lies that were flowing from his mouth like milk from Eloise’s teat.
“Ohhhh! A cousin!” Sister Ruth threw up her hands and became more like a field of flowers than the briar patch she was when she walked in. “Well, hello there! I’m Ruth Askins.”
“May Seymour. Such a pleasure to meet you. Claudius has such wonderful things to say about you.” May held out her hand and they shook, once, ladylike.
—She’s a smart little thing.
Sister Ruth shot a look at Claudius. “How long are you staying, May? And can I have a glass of your iced tea, Claudius? He does make the best iced tea around.”
Claudius busied himself. Thankful.
“Until August. I just graduated from UK.” She told the short version of her tale.
Sister Ruth gasped. “Africa! I always wanted to do something like that. Now, isn’t Rwanda in a state of unrest?” She narrowed her eyes again. “Should you be going now?”
Claudius handed her the glass. “May-May, Sister Ruth keeps very current with the world.”
“I certainly do. I’m a schoolteacher.” She sipped her tea, then set it on one of the place mats that had been around that linoleum-topped table since 1972, the year Garland Borne took Violet to Florida for a winter vacation.
That was a big time for them. Avocado green ovals woven from some sort of grass, Claudius didn’t know what kind, and St. Petersburg embroidered in glossy tan straw. The dye had faded around the edges, leaving a warm tan to match the letters.
He listened for a few moments while the women held a discussion about the Hutus and the Tutsis, and wondered why he never cared for much more than what he had right here on this farm. Their voices settled into a hum in his eardrums as May talked and scratched little Girlfriend’s ears as the dog sat in her lap.
Without a word or even a conscious thought, he found his feet drifting out the door and toward the barn to Eloise and her full udder. Old Eloise. There was just something about a big, gentle beast that made you feel comforted. Press his cheek up against her flank, and she might as well have been his armchair in front of the fireplace on a cold night.
May had so much to learn. He did, too, but now, well, it was her time. His was gone, lost in the overturning of earth and the feeding of creation and time passing. Always the time passing and work to be done, or the earth returning to the wild.
He couldn’t tell May much about the rest of the world, but he could show her what makes good earth and good animals. And all that good food and sunshine and fresh air and love would do the same for people over in Africa too. He had a feeling what she learned on the farm would stand her in good stead over there.
Over the next few days he wished he was better at carrying on a conversation. His life seemed so humdrum.
They ate entire meals saying only “Pass the salt” or “Would you like a napkin?” He wished he could scratch down inside his mind to unearth good topics for discussion. But she seemed happy enough. They read the evenings away. She’d read bits aloud and so, then, would he. She loved Kurt Vonnegut, and Claudius had to admit the man had a way with humor. He would like to try time traveling like that Billy fella.
But sometimes, usually when they were out working in the field or shoveling out the barn, she’d ask him questions nobody ever had. He chalked up the personal nature of them to the fact that she was naturally curious and a little bit bold. She’d have never been a journalism major if she wasn’t.
She asked him if he’d made a lot of mistakes in his youth. He said yes. Did he have a girlfriend? Well, no, not those kinds of mistakes. He was always a little too shy around the women. Why? He couldn’t tell you. Did it have to do with his mother? He didn’t think so. He was just grateful to her, was all. Wasn’t such thankfulness a little extra, though? May was thankful she was born, but that was her mother’s choice, not hers. He guessed so, but May, you couldn’t understand the sacrifice of my mother and father, raising a little black boy all those years ago.
She had to agree with him there.
Why didn’t she give him up for adoption? He didn’t know w
hy, he just knew his mother loved to love people and was good at it. She tried to find him girlfriends, but he just never could seem to find his voice around them. May said she knew boys now just like him.
They were sorting seeds in the barn, sitting on a bench near the potting table.
“And you know, the girls at church and school didn’t want to marry into a white family. At least I guess that was the case.”
“You never know.” She sighed, counting out envelopes and laying them on the table. “Well. They missed out.”
—But so did I.
“I don’t know, Claudius. It just sounds like there was more to it. Did you ever ask your mother about your father?”
“The man who sired me?” He slipped the list of seeds and a pencil from his pocket.
“Yes.”
“Write each of these on an envelope,” he said. “I did ask her. I even went behind her back and talked to my stepdad. Shoot, I talked to everyone in town who might have known something.”
“What did they say?”
“Nothing. Nobody knew anything. Said she went away to college and then came home as pregnant as you please one year, I can’t remember which, junior or senior. She never said nothing to anybody. Maybe to my grandmother. But whatever she said was damaging enough to get her kicked out of her home for good.”
“You’re kidding me!”
“Nope. My grandmother never talked to her again. Her brothers and sisters didn’t. Nobody.”
“How did your father’s family feel about him marrying her?”
“My father was his own man. His family was back east, but I’m sure he wouldn’t have needed no approval from them. He was going to do what he was going to do, and if they didn’t like it, well, tough luck.”
As the conversation ended, the various tomato seeds lay in tiny piles, ready to be started under the grow light next spring. A shadow fell across them from the doorway.
Claudius stood up. “Eli!” He thrust out his hand and shook the visitor’s outstretched one.
“Cousin Claudius!”
“You heading out for basic now?”
“Next week.”
Claudius pulled May to her feet. “This is my cousin Sassy’s son, Eli. He just got out of college, too, and is heading into the army.”
May shook his hand.
—Oh, but they look nice together.
Eli had always been a looker—tall, sunny blond hair that curled above his eyes and ears, and those greeny-gold eyes, like a field of grass just as it begins to dry out to hay. And strong.
“He played football for UK,” Claudius said.
“You just graduated?” May removed her hand from Eli’s large grasp.
“Yes.”
The boy reddened. And no wonder. What a cutie that girl was. Claudius didn’t blame him.
“Me too.”
Eli’s major was General Studies. No, he wasn’t into anything other than football, and hanging out with his friends.
“I’m surprised I didn’t see you there.”
“Um, you did.” He ran a hand over his hair. “Eli Campbell. St. Patrick’s Day?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh.” She shot a look at Claudius. “Okay, yes. I remember.”
“Well, how nice!” Claudius headed toward the door. “Let’s have a glass of tea to honor the reunion of old friends!”
“We’ll be right there, Claudius,” Eli said. “I just wanna get caught up with May here.”
Scout ran up for a good scratch, as did Girlfriend. So Claudius bent down on his haunches just outside the door.
“I’m sorry I didn’t remember you,” she said. “I mean, I should’ve.”
“We were both drunk,” Eli said. “And I never even saw you again on campus. It was one of those things. It’s okay.”
“Gotta be, right?”
“No hard feelings?” Eli said.
“Of course not. I mean, you know, it’s not like I—”
“Me either.”
Claudius straightened up and hurried into the house. Things were so different nowadays.
Well, no matter that Eli and May started off under dubious circumstances. People make mistakes, and sometimes, a lot of the times, they actually turn them into something good in the long run. He didn’t know if that was virtue or fate. Maybe sometimes it was a little of both, alternating sides of a personality working to and fro. Claudius’s mother always said that hate can rest beside love in the same heart, cruelty can hold hands with loyalty and cohabitate with honor. Nobody’s singularly good or singularly bad. She said, remember that. It would save him a lot of heartache.
He had to admit he chose to see the good unless shown otherwise.
And what happened between May and Eli’s second meeting and when Eli left for basic training was good. Eli figured they were cousins “about twenty times removed,” and Claudius didn’t know whether or not May set him straight.
It was a beautiful sight, Eli coming over after finishing up work at the garage, eating dinner with them. And that May-May, putting on a pretty dress and sandals for him. Claudius blushed a little himself. He’d never been this close to a budding relationship, and it made him feel a little soft inside too. He thought he might even ask Ruthie to get a bite to eat after church the Sunday before Eli left, but she’d won a few hundred in the lottery—he’d learned not to mention her penchant for the lottery—and had gone off to Lexington to visit a friend for the weekend. So much for that.
That Sunday May and Eli drove into Lexington for a date, dinner, and then maybe a movie or something. He waited up for May until one o’clock, but realized she was an adult, and he wasn’t her father.
When she came home the next morning, he was already watering the animals. She waved off Eli, waved to Claudius, then slipped into the house.
He turned off the spigot, figuring she’d sleep the day away.
But no. Surprisingly enough, she reappeared dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, wearing her barn shoes, ready to work, but unwilling to offer up a single explanation.
Things sure were different nowadays.
The day before Eli left, Claudius ventured a conversation as they stirred the compost bins. “So you’re sweethearts with Eli, I see. You going to miss him?”
She shook her head. “Not really. Maybe a little. It was just a fun little time, Claudius. But he is a pretty good guy. We just understand each other, is all.”
“Oh. I thought maybe you two …”
“Were falling in love?” She unearthed a nest of eggs down in the straw. “No. I’m not going to do that right now. There’s too much ahead of me.”
“I thought people couldn’t help themselves. You fall in love, and that’s the way it is.”
She laughed. “Some people are that way. My mother was. So was my father. Guess it wasn’t passed down to me. Maybe my expectations are too high.”
“Well, I guess I shouldn’t judge. I’ve never really been in love either. Wait, I jumped to a conclusion. You ever been in love, May-May?”
“Not with anyone that mattered. I have a feeling, actually, I might be too picky. But when I marry, I want it to last for a long, long time!”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
“That’s the general plan, isn’t it? Honestly, though, I just like Eli a lot. And he isn’t hard on the eyes either.”
And yet, when Eli returned to say goodbye for the final time, she clung to him there in the driveway, just resting her head on his broad chest. Maybe they really were just good friends. Everybody could use a few of them.
Claudius leaned on the hoe and watched as Eli cradled her cheeks in his palms, leaned forward and kissed her forehead, then her mouth. He pulled her to him, and she patted his back.
When he pulled out of the drive, he waved, so did she, and Claudius stood there as mystified as ever.
“May-May!” he called. “How about slicing up some tomatoes and frying some bacon? We’ll have BLTs for lunch.”
“I’m on it!”
He�
��d only known the girl for three weeks, and already he was feeling overprotective.
They sat on the back stoop eating ice-cream bars—a Fudgsicle for May, a Creamsicle for him. He loved the way that slightly crispy orange layer surrounded the creamy vanilla ice cream, the way you could smash it up against the roof of your mouth, the way, if it was hot enough and humid enough, it would look, for a split second, like smoke was blowing from your mouth at the beginning of your exhale.
“What I like about Fudgsicles,” said May, “is that it’s a weird combination of juice popsicle and ice cream, a no-man’s-land, sort of.”
“I’ll grant you that.” He nodded. “If it was a beverage, we’d call it a Yoo-hoo.”
“Yep. What about your parents? What did they like?”
She asked a lot of questions about his parents.
“Mother liked just the vanilla ice-cream bars, the kind covered with chocolate. Daddy was a Fudgsicle man too.”
The dogs sat on the cement walkway leading up to the kitchen door, tongues unfurled.
“I’d sure hate to have all that fur right now,” May said.
“Somehow they make it through.”
“I think that’s one of the things I’ve learned here. How creatures just adapt to their day. They don’t get to turn on the A/C or the heat or whatever. They just have to make do. I guess people used to be like that. Before modern conveniences.”
“They sure did. You’ve been living without air-conditioning this summer, May-May. You’ve survived.”
Just a couple more weeks and May would be leaving.
She gave him a smug smile. “I have, haven’t I?”
He nodded.
“See?” She bapped him on the leg. “I’m not the softie you thought I was!”
“When did I ever say that?”
“Wait! You didn’t! That was me.”
They sat and watched the sky deepen from the faded denim blue of the afternoon to something a little more flashy. He liked the way nature turned to gold in the end. Blue skies to gold. Green peppers to gold. Green leaves to gold. And sometimes people did that too. Started out so pinched and immature and then, given the space and the care, spread out to something shimmering and golden.
