Sweet Whispers, Brother Rush

by Virginia Hamilton

  Tree knew all about what Dab wished for when he concentrated on things that would not move. Once, two years ago, M’Vy had some time and thought it a good idea for them to see a museum and, after, an amusement park. They went to the museum first. Dab liked it. He hated the amusement park, where everything swirled and glittered, moving around and around and never holding still. He up-chucked his hot dog and ice cream and put M’Vy in a bad mood.

  So when Dab saw him through the table, he said, “Yeah? Yeah?” softly.

  “Be Brother Rush,” said Tree. “He cain’t hear you or see you, I’m guessin, cause be a ghost,” she told Dab. “You ever seen a ghost?”

  “Uh-huh?” Dab said, his voice rising. “Un-huh?” he said again.

  “When! When you see some ghost!”

  Dab didn’t answer. He was concentrating on Rush there before him. He was seeing how Rush had one hand cupped around his ear. His other hand held a space of green and sunlight. Dab looked on the space opening held so still. Breathed the scent of fruit blossoms. He pointed at the space. He moaned, shaking his head.

  “Don’t you want to come see it?” Tree said. “I know it scary, but come on, anyhow.”

  She put her arm around him and took his hand, steering him forward. Dab pulled back. Suddenly he stiffened and stood at attention.

  “What a matter you, Dab?” she said. She peered into his face. “You gettin sick again?”

  But he wasn’t sick. She sucked in her breath. Dab’s mind was gone. “So that how it look!” she whispered. She realized that, unlike her, he need not go close to the space in order to get there. He was gone, his mind somehow entering Rush’s green and sunlight by his concentration from where he was. He didn’t have to reach.

  Maybe when a mind was as simple as Dab’s, going to unheard-of places was easy.

  She let go of Dab’s hand and hurried to see into the sunlight. She reached for it through the greenery. “Where’d you go?” she said, and then, “Don’t you hurt my brother!” Spoken to Rush, or whatever it was that could in some way transport them and might harm them. “Oh, you scare me!” she cried.

  It felt as if her arm had gone within the space clear to her shoulder. The space was right before her eyes. She heard summer birds and felt warm breezes.

  “Why you doin this? Why you doin this?” Softly she spoke.

  It felt like her nose and forehead, her cheeks and mouth, slid through sunlight. They were on a road, going fast, going up. She felt clammy heat wet her hands where they creased and folded. She had on white, soft underpants. Nothing else. Warm wind gave her goose bumps on her moist chest and shoulders. She was standing on her pink sun dress where it lay crumpled at her feet.

  She scrambled down on her knees on the woman’s lap. The car pulled hard up the road. She could hear it, Ga-ruhin, Ga-ruhin, hurting her ears. She could feel the warm sunshine on her arms out the car window. The woman’s hand held her around her middle. Wind was on her face on top of the sunshine. Wind took her breath away.

  Slow down, Brother, the woman warned. They took a sharp turn, squealing up.

  Her plump hands covered her nose as the wind swept across her face on the sunlight. She breathed through her fingers, trapping the sunlight. Gently the woman pulled her back in through the open car window. She fought and fought until she once again had her elbows out of the window. Her head, shoulders and chest were outside. The woman sighed and held her strongly, both hands firm around her belly.

  Tree was the child; she was also the woman. Yet she knew she was still Tree. The awareness of herself would leave her, she knew, as it had the last time she was drawn into this place. For now, she was child, was woman. She was Tree, observing.

  You gone turn us over, too! the woman yelled. She was sounding scared.

  Baby sis, how’m I gone pull these hills if I slow down?

  I can’t look! said the woman.

  I brought you and them kids up here to see the sight from up high. You can see Wilberforce and Jamestown. See fifty mile on a clear day like this. Almost to the Ohio River.

  You kiddin! The woman was startled by that. Clear to Cincinnati? From up here? Brother, you a lie!

  You look hard enough and you see a glint and that be the city reflecting in the Ohio River.

  Well, I have to see that, the woman said.

  What I’m sayin, Brother said. The little girl saw how high. It was silence and green shining light as far as she could see. The car had stopped, and there was stillness. She sucked her fingers, thought about the light. Now she felt hot; her cheeks were burning.

  A commotion began in the car. She pulled herself back in from the window. She knew what the trouble was. Turned around, sat down on the woman as the small boy came tumbling over the top of the seat from the back, where the woman had put him. He came, headfirst, to see better. He was upside down between the man and the woman, trying to get himself turned around. He couldn’t flip over, so he kicked his legs. Tree was there, seeing, but felt herself fading. She was the woman, her gorge rising. She was the girl child, seeing pictures, shapes. She became frightened as the woman holding her stiffened and let go one reassuring hand.

  The woman bent down and came up with a stick. She struck the boy’s legs back and forth, whipping, back and forth. The boy’s scream rang out. She, the girl, saw his thin legs in short pants tremble and kick. His legs were up the front seat where his head should have been. She was forced to see his toes curl as they were struck and struck. She watched his legs stiffen like boards.

  The man, Brother, tried to get the stick out of the woman’s hands. All this in silence, as sunlight of the high place filled the car. The two of them struggled.

  Don’t hit him anymore, said Brother. One of these days you gone hurt him bad, too.

  You saw him, said the woman. You saw what he did, trying to provoke me.

  He was only tryin to get in front with his baby sister. He just wanted to see everything in front. You know how he loves to hold the wheel.

  Brother had the woman’s wrists, and the stick trembled the same way the boy’s legs had. They struggled; all at once, her body went limp. The child sitting on her lap felt it. She was ready to cry as the struggle went on and on and the small boy stayed upside down. Now she whimpered and sucked her fingers. She wanted Brother to hold her but the woman held her tightly, with an arm around her middle

  The woman gave in. Brother took the switch and tossed it into the backseat. The child heard it land softly. The small boy was still upside down. Gently Brother righted him and put him on his lap behind the wheel. The boy liked that. He had his back to her and the woman. He leaned the side of his face on Brother’s chest and felt for the wheel. He found the wheel with his skinny fingers and held onto it, caressing it without looking at it. He loved all things that did not move quickly. He loved the wheel when it was still. He loved Brother, when Brother was still, like now. He loved statues and quiet.

  Brother took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and wetted it from a mason jar of white liquid he kept under his seat. He touched the boy’s legs with the wet handkerchief where welts had risen. They looked like red worms wrapped around his legs. The boy winced and stiffened at the touch.

  Shhh. Shhh, Brother said. It’ll hurt only a minute. Then it’ll cool you and it won’t hurt again.

  Brother folded the handkerchief and put it under the seat with the Mason jar of liquid. He took up the Mason jar again as an afterthought and took a quick drink from it. Then he tightened the lid and put the jar back under the seat.

  The girl watched all this. Tree was gone. Dab was gone, if he had ever been there. In the car now was the woman, Brother, the girl and the boy. Brother ran his hand along the boy’s shoulder as the boy rested against his chest. He didn’t look at the boy or the woman. He was looking at the scene out of the window. The woman stared straight ahead. The child was standing, looking out the window. Her face was against the woman’s; her fingers were in her mouth. She moved her fingers so far down her thro
at that she gagged. The woman slapped her hand away from her mouth. She whimpered and cried for a moment; but then thought better of it. All was still in the car.

  Until Brother started the motor and they were rolling backward.

  Be careful! said the woman. You just at the edge.

  There’s ten feet before we at the edge, Brother told her. Why you so scared of high places?

  High places ain’t it, she said. It’s you, reckless.

  Not me. I just know how to have some fun, he said.

  He still held the boy on his lap. The boy didn’t know where to put his hands as noise came up from beneath his feet. Brother placed his hands on the wheel next to his own.

  You got to help me now, Brother said to the boy. Do what I do.

  The boy looked grave. He let his head loll back against Brother. Brother had to hold his hands to keep them on the wheel. The boy looked down, away from the windows, to avoid seeing movement. If he looked outside, he would become sick all over himself and his favorite uncle. The feel of the wheel moving under his hands frightened him.

  They breezed down and down. The little girl was half out the window again.

  You ever see a child like this one? the woman said admiringly. Behind stickin up all sassy!

  Better not let her lean out too far, Brother said. Tree branches so close sometimes on these narra roads.

  Tree. That who she be growing to. Tall. Tree, the woman said.

  On and on, in sunlight and shade, until the road was monotonous. The girl fell asleep, face on her arms resting on the window frame. She awoke as they entered the town, drenched in the fragrance of wild roses. All the older, smaller houses and bushes and vines of flowers ranging in color from white to deep purple. To her, the bushes were sweet-smelling circles whose scent could not be separated from their shape. The very sight of them made her dizzy and took her breath.

  They turned in the gravel driveway of a familiar house, with a porch and swing. The car shut off and the doors opened. She was holding onto the door, trying to keep everybody in the car. She stood, stamping her feet on the woman’s lap. But the car had too many doors; she couldn’t keep everyone in. The Sunday drive was over. She thought of crying, she was so sad that the car had stopped. But she saw Ashland, Ken., and he made her laugh.

  Ashland, Ken., guarded Binnie, the woman’s sister, who sat on the porch swang. Binnie’s husband, Lee, was sound asleep beside her. Ashland, Ken., belong to Binnie; and he was spotted orange and brown, and crippled.

  She watched the dog open his mouth, grinning at her. She lunged for him, for any part of him she could get her hands on and squeeze with love. But Ashland, Ken., dragged himself away to Binnie.

  Sweet, now don’t you pester him, Binnie’s shrill, nervous voice commanded. Binnie raised her cane.

  That stopped her, and she stood there on the top step with her fingers in her mouth. Watching the black cane. The sleeping Lee, leaning to one side. Aunt Binnie.

  Look what the cat drug in, said the woman. She eased up on the porch with the little girl at her side.

  Hi-Hi! yelled Binnie. Her voice cut a harsh track through their senses. Binnie pulled at her shriveled, paralyzed arm. It drew tightly to her chest. She pulled it down. Her cane clattered to the floor as she momentarily forgot where she had placed it. The little girl lunged for it. The dog dragged himself; then hurled himself at the child, growling and baring his teeth.

  The woman screamed. Instantly Lee was awake. He lurched for the dog, caught Ashland, Ken., by his collar, and pulled him away from the child before he could bite her.

  Binnie, you got to put that dog away! said the woman. She grabbed the child, swinging her up protectively to her chest. Soon the girl was sitting on the woman’s hip, riding sidesaddle. She was not at all frightened, just watchful.

  Dog will do about anything to protect Binnie, said Lee in his slow, easy voice. He went on as if nothing had happened. How you doin, Vy? How you, Brother?

  Fine, said Vy. How you doin?

  I’m fine. Brother added, how you doin, Binnie? spoken kind, with respect for the profound mystery of illness.

  Binnie’s return greeting curled out of her mouth in a gurgling of nerves. She was sweet and kind, Brother knew, but as high-strung as a lead guitar. She was a good numbers woman and played her book with one quarter of the gambling women in town. Vy played with another quarter. Vy’s husband, Kenneth, played with the men who were poker players. Easy enough to get poker players into numbers. But Binnie would have to quit. He would have to see that she quit. How long could they go on, watching her teeter down roads, a pathetic, crippled soul with her crippled dog dragging behind her?

  The girl saw the boy come out from his hiding place behind a tree and climb the steps to the porch. He gathered silence around him, did not look at anyone. He opened the screen door to go inside the house, and the woman did not notice him. As long as the little girl rode on the woman’s hip, the woman would forget the boy for hours at a time.

  Brother saw him, though, and reached for him, holding the boy against his legs and prying his hand from the door. Where you goin? Brother said. Come sit on my knee. Come on, don’t go off by youself like that all the time.

  The boy lowered his head and kicked backward against Brother’s shin. Brother had to step away. A frown crossed his face. He let the boy go. The boy went inside.

  The girl wiggled down off the woman’s hip. The woman wanted to sit down, so Lee got up to give her room.

  Whew! she sighed, fanning herself. That baby gets heavier every day.

  She no baby no more, Lee said. What you expect? She a growing child.

  Uh-huh? said the woman. An she love to ride. We did ride! Brother about to run us overtop the hills. Fixin to … She clamped her mouth shut suddenly. Her eyes ran to one side of her face, then the other.

  The girl turned to the door and managed to pull it open. She stepped up high, following her brother. Her brother was not in sight inside the living room. She knew exactly where he had gone. And she followed. As she climbed up the stairs, she could hear her Uncle Lee chuckling on the porch.

  Cute as a button, he said. Gone be pretty when she grows big. Have to tie her in, too.

  She liked the stairs. She could hold onto the banister and watch her feet. She loved the feel of the carpet under her toes. It was red and soft. She watched her feet all the way up, with both hands holding onto the banister so she wouldn’t fall. The woman had shown her how to hold on. She could hear them outside on the porch through the open windows.

  Woman, you crazy, Brother was saying. You got a husband better than anybody. And you gone leave him? So what if Ken do spend some money? The man make it, don’t he?

  It was nice being almost up the stairs and the woman was not holding her, gripping her close and making her hot.

  Up the stairs, there was an open room where they kept the toys the man bought them. Big, stuffed toys for her and trains for the boy. She asked for trains, too, but never got them. The boy let her have his. He loved stuffed animals that did not move.

  She knew exactly where to go. Into the front bedroom. It was dark but had a small window of light. The boy stood, facing her. He leaned against the side of the bed.

  She knew where to find the rope. Knew where the woman hid it. She went in the closet and found the rope in a shoe box. She asked the boy, You want me tie you to the post? I can do it. I can be the woman, see? She lifted the rope toward him. He swatted it out of her hand to the floor. His mouth turned down. His eyes filled with tears. Eyes wet and shining at her. The boy climbed up on the bed and covered his head with a pillow.

  He cried and he cried.

  She walked in the closet, put the rope away. She never lifted it again.

  Chapter 7

  TREE HAD NO RECOLLECTION of time’s passage. She found herself in the kitchen with Dab, and she had not noticed any movement or change of place. The two of them must have made their way from the little room, down the hall and into the kitchen in some
kind of dream.

  The girl going up the stairs, maybe that was coming in here, Tree thought.

  Her mind felt blank, and she had the sensation that she was evaporating in the silence. But then, suddenly, she was completely herself. She stood up and began doing what had to be done. She turned on the kitchen light. There was no ghost of Rush to be seen or felt. And there was no other place that was also another time and beyond her understanding.

  You think too hard about it and you’ll go off your mind.

  She went about preparing the supper. It was six thirty.

  “Should’ve had it all done by six o’clock,” she said, not to Dab particularly. Dab was lost in himself. She talked to feel less anxious.

  “Nothing to make but some macaroni and cheese. Dab? That be okay?”

  “Un-huh?” he said, quietly. “Un-huh.”

  “Dab, come on back. It over. I won’t take you there no more wit me if you don’t stop it,” she warned.

  “Uhh?”

  “Dab!”

  “Wha—?” he said. “Wha—?”

  “Listen, don’t say everything twice like that, hear? It sound funny, like you not all there. You all right, Dab?” She stopped what she had been doing to look him over.

  “Feel sick to my stomach,” he said.

  “That was probably because of the car ride,” she said. She was still, silent. “But how could that be? Dab? Did … did it seem like there was a car ride? And you come over the top of the seat and she …”

  “Didn’t go in no car,” he said. “Went to funerals.”

  “What? Funerals?”

  “Yeah, Uncle Willie’s funeral.”