Out of the Ashes ta-1

by William Wallace Johnstone

  “Juno.”

  She squatted down and held out her hands. Juno shoved past Ben and came to her, almost knocking her down with his eagerness to be petted. Ben stepped past them and into the house. Not much had changed; the house was a great deal neater and cleaner than when he’d left it. He said as much.

  “You’re a bachelor—a man.” She smiled. “Most bachelors aren’t much on housekeeping.” A mischievous light crept into her eyes. “’Sides,” she mush-mouthed, “us coons have been trained for centuries to take care of the master’s house while he’s away seein’ to matters of great import.”

  “Knock it off, Salina,” he said; then saw the twinkle in her eyes and realized she’d been ribbing him. He gave back as much as he got. “You’re only half-coon. So the house should be only half-clean.”

  “O.K.” She laughed. “Call this match a draw. You hungry, Ben? Dinner’s going to be at seven. Guests coming over. We knew you were coming.”

  “How?”

  “Tom-toms!”

  Ben grimaced at her laughter. “I’ll be hungry by seven, I assure you.”

  The twinkle in her eyes became a flashing firestorm. “Well, got corn bread, fatback, and greens.”

  “Salina, you’re impossible!”

  She laughed. “You think I’m kidding?”

  She wasn’t.

  Ben sat in the den with Cecil and Lila, Pal and Valerie. “I’m beginning to get the feeling I’m a lone moonbeam on a dark night,” he said.

  They did not take offense, as Ben knew they would not, but shared his laughter. It certainly was a dark night and the house was lit only by lamps and candles.

  “Another month,” Cecil said, “and we’ll have full power restored. So the engineers tell me.”

  Pal laughed and leaned forward, looking at Ben. “The truth, Ben—what was the first thought that popped into your mind at Cecil’s statement?”

  “Nigger-riggin’,” Ben said honestly.

  “You’re an honest man, Ben Raines,” Lila said. “O.K.—how do we combat that type of thinking. Not that you meant it; I don’t believe you did. But that… type of thinking is so ingrained in so many white minds, how do we overcome it?”

  “By education and by trying harder. That’s my opinion.”

  “Education…?” Salina let the question remain open-ended.

  “On both sides, of course.”

  “Let’s be sociable this evening, people,” Valerie said. “Let the poor man alone about race. We’re just six people, all full after a good meal, so let’s relax some, huh?”

  “I don’t mind, Valerie,” Ben said. “Really, I don’t. Had people in the country gotten together like this years ago—more than really did—so much could have been accomplished.”

  Ben was silent for a moment, then asked, “Kasim?”

  “He’s around,” Cecil replied. “When he learned you were coming in he cursed and decided to skip Salina’s invitation—which she felt forced to offer, I must add in her defense. Any other time he would have broken his neck getting over here. He has feelings for Salina that, unfortunately for Kasim, she does not share.”

  “And never will,” Salina added. “He’s a pig!”

  “He is an uneducated man, Salina,” Lila said softly.

  “He’s a prick!” Salina said flatly.

  Cecil shook his head and said, “Are you planning on staying, Ben?”

  “No, I’m not. I’m heading over to north Mississippi first, then pulling out to the northwest.” He met Cecil’s steady gaze. “Cecil, as long as you have Kasims in your society, it won’t work.”

  The man shrugged. “I feel you are correct; he has too much hate in him. But what would you have me do, Ben? Kill him? Drive him out?”

  “I know what I would do, Cecil, but I don’t walk in your shoes. He’s your problem. If he ever becomes mine, he won’t be a problem long.” Then he laid it out for the group, told them all he knew about the new government, what he had seen and heard. And it did not surprise Ben to learn they knew more about it than he.

  “Yes,” Pal said. “We monitor the broadcasts. But perhaps Logan will leave us alone long enough… well, until we are strong enough to resist his forces. All we want to do is live and let live.”

  Ike’s words, Ben thought.

  “You’re welcome to spend the night with us, Ben,” Lila said.

  Ben smiled. “This is my house.”

  She cut her eyes to Salina. “Then perhaps you’d better come with us, Salina.”

  “I like it here,” Salina said. Ben could feel her eyes on him in the dim light.

  Cecil shook his head, a frown on his lips. “You’re making a mistake, girl; it’ll only cause hard feelings. You must know that.”

  “My decision.”

  “You’re half-black, half-white,” Lila said, a tinge of anger in her voice. “Are you making your choice? Is that it?”

  “You’re the only one talking about color and choices. If Ben is color-blind, so am I.”

  Pal and Valerie sat quietly, saying nothing, staying out of the verbal confrontation, now exclusively between the two women.

  “You know Kasim will fly into a rage when he hears you’ve… spent the night with Ben. And Ben,”—she cut her eyes to him—“there is nothing wrong with sex between two consenting adults. But there is much more than sex involved here. Try to see it from our point of view.”

  Ben shrugged.

  “Let him fly into a rage,” Salina said. “The stupid bastard’s half-crazy anyway.”

  “Salina…” Lila leaned forward, taking her hands. “Think about it. Think….”

  Salina jerked her hands away. “I have thought about it!” she snapped. “All my damned life I’ve thought about it. Where do I belong? Believe me, I’ve been the one living with that question, not you. For twenty-five years I’ve lived with it. If I make a statement that is contradictory to the quote/unquote ‘black’ way of thinking, I get my white father tossed in my face. If I’m around a group of whites and make any statement defending something a black person has done, I get my nigger mamma tossed at me. And don’t you think for one second I haven’t thought about ‘passing.’ I have not only thought about it, I’ve done it, many times. Hey—I like the white world. It’s free and a whole lot easier to move around in. So, by God”—she slammed a small fist on a coffee table—“don’t any of you presume to tell me what I can or cannot do. I will do what I want to do, when I choose to do it. And with whomever I choose to do it.” She jumped to her feet and ran from the room, crying.

  Ben wisely kept his mouth shut about Salina’s decision and poured another cup of coffee from the service on the coffee table. He said blandly, “More coffee, anyone?”

  “Thank you, no,” Cecil said, a slight smile working at the corners of his mouth. “Do you always stir up hornets’ nests wherever you go?”

  “That’s not fair,” Valerie said. “Ben hasn’t done a thing except to come home. His home.” Lila, her composure restored, laughed at her husband’s pained expression and patted his leg. Valerie said, “There will be trouble over this, Ben. Kasim will indeed go berserk.”

  “Willie, you mean?” Ben said, the words popping from his mouth before he could bite them off. Valerie looked blank; she, of course, would know nothing of Kasim’s Christian name.

  “That annoys whites, doesn’t it?” Cecil asked, stuffing his pipe. “The Muslim bit, I mean.”

  “Annoys?” Ben shook his head. “No… I don’t believe annoys is the right choice of words. I think a lot of whites are amused by it. And perhaps frightened, if they would admit it.”

  “Umm. Frightened, yes. So are a number of blacks. But amused? Why?” Cecil asked.

  “Because they don’t believe the blacks are taking their religion seriously. They think that they’re doing it solely to be different. Wearing turbans and robes.”

  Cecil smiled. “Would you find it terribly difficult to believe that I, too, am amused by it—in some blacks?”

  “N
o, not at all. You’re an educated man, and a fair-thinking man.”

  Juno rose from the floor, stretched, and went into the room after Salina.

  Cecil said, “When both man and beast accept a woman, I guess that pretty well settles it.” He lit his pipe. “Be careful, Ben Raines, many of the pressures in an interracial relationship come from within rather than from without.”

  “I am aware of that.”

  Cecil looked at him, his face a tanned study in the dim light. “So you believe education is the key to a black person’s acceptance by the whites, eh?”

  “Education on both sides, yes. And conformity on both sides, as well. Root cause.”

  “Yes, I read that in you. Have to get into the home before matters begin mellowing out, eh? Interesting. Rather Orwellian, though.”

  Dr. Chase’s words.

  “…Don’t know how you’d manage that,” Cecil remarked. “I’m going to tell you something, Ben. Tell you something because we are here, now. I think you’ve stood on the sidelines and watched all the action between the races for too long, electing to remain neutral.” He held up his hand as Ben opened his mouth to protest. “No—let me finish, Ben. Please. Let me assure you that black people know all the white arguments. All of them; know them by heart—hell, we’ve heard them all our lives.

  “Ready? Good. In an election, blacks will vote color rather than intellectually, even though the black man may be less qualified than the white. Yes, that’s true. At least in nearly every election I’ve ever seen. But, my God, Ben, how else could the black people get representation. I mean… after all, we’re supposed to remain in our place. Wherever in the hell that is.

  “All niggers steal. Well, that’s bullshit and we both know it. At least the connotation the whites attach to it is crap: that all blacks steal. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life. But because I am black I am tarred with the same brush as those blacks who do steal. It makes about as much sense as saying all Italians belong to the mafia.

  “Niggers have no morals; all they want to do is drink and fuck. Did you patronize many redneck bars, Ben? Have you been in many conversations—and I use that word laughingly, taking into consideration the intellect of the average redneck—with ‘necks? Need I say more?

  “Nigger is lazy; won’t work. Some black people are lazy; so are some whites. It’s about even.

  “Niggers are smart-alecks. Meaning: don’t talk uppity to a white person. You ain’t as good as me. Don’t argue with a white man. Kowtow. Yes, sir—no, sir.

  “Niggers are emotional. Yes, many of us are. There is a cultural as well as pigmentation difference between blacks and whites. But it amuses me, Ben, to hear some whites say that. Especially if one has ever witnessed the carrying-on in a white Pentecostal church, or other churches of that particular ilk.

  “You know what I’m saying, Ben! I don’t have to continue in this vein. The point is: how will you combat those myths and prejudices in your society? And yes, we know of your plans. We have fine electronic equipment located around the area. Our people have done some excellent nigger-riggin’.” That was said with a smile and Ben had to laugh.

  “Ben? I didn’t ask for the job of leader down here. One day I looked up and it was being handed to me. No one asked if I wanted it. They just handed it to me. I don’t need and don’t want any New Africa. I have been accepted in ‘your world’ all my life. My father was a psychiatrist, my mother a college professor. I hold a Ph.D.—and not from one of your all-black southern colleges. I worked hard to gain my degrees. My father saw to that—no favors. I graduated with a 3.9 from one hell of a fine university. I have been married for ten years and I have never slept with another woman.” He smiled. “But the temptation has sometimes been almost overpowering.”

  Lila stirred by his side. Smiling, she said, “Keep talkin’, sucker.”

  “Logan?” Cecil spat the word. “He’s a nigger-hater. Always has been. Those of us with any education saw past his rhetoric. And he—with the help of his mercenaries—is going to try to crush us down here. And probably will. But we have to try, Ben. Have to try—no!—we’ve got to show whitey we can have a Christian, decent, productive society without his help.

  “Kasim? Piss on Kasim! His bread isn’t baked. He was a street punk and that’s all he’ll ever be.

  “You’re going to look up one day, Ben—very soon, I believe—and the job of leader will be handed to you. Like me, you won’t want it, but you’ll take it because you believe in your dreams of a fair world, fair society. I read you like a good novel, Ben. You opened yourself up to viewing when you said you weren’t staying; you were heading west. You’re going for the states Logan is leaving alone for a time. And you’re going to form your own little nation. Just like we’re attempting to do here. Good luck to you—you’re going to need it. I—we—may join you out there.”

  “You’d be welcome, Cecil. There are too few like you and Lila and Pal and Valerie.”

  “And Salina,” Lila added, her eyes twinkling.

  Ben smiled.

  “And you’re right, Ben,” Cecil said. “It’s in the home. Root cause.”

  Ben’s words.

  “One of my earliest recollections is of Mozart and Brahms,” Cecil reminisced. “But you think the average southern white would believe that? Not a chance. He’ll put down black music—which I detest—while slugging the jukebox and punching out the howling and honking of country music.

  “My father used to sit in his study, listening to fine music while going over his day’s cases, a brandy at hand. My mother was having a sherry—not Ripple,”—he laughed—“going over her papers from the college. My home life was conducive to a moderate, intelligent way of life. My father told me, if I wanted it, to participate in sports, but to keep the game in perspective and always remember it is but a game. Nothing more. No, Ben, I didn’t grow up as the average black kid. That’s why I know what you say is true. Home. The root cause.

  “I went to the opera, Ben. Really! How many violent-minded people attend operas? How many ignorant people attend plays and classical concerts? How many bigots—of all races—read Sartre, Shakespeare, Tennyson, Dante?” He shook his head.

  “No, you find your bigots and violent-minded ignoramuses seeking other forms of base entertainment. And I’m not just speaking of music.

  “Do you know why I joined the Green Berets, Ben?”

  Ben shook his head.

  “So I could get to know violence firsthand. We didn’t have street gangs where I grew up. To try to understand violence.” He laughed aloud, heartily, slapping his knee. “Well, I found out about it, all right; I got shot in the butt in Laos.”

  “Enough,” Lila said. “Let’s don’t you two refight the war. I’ve heard all your stories. Tomorrow is a workday. Let’s go home.”

  They all stood up, Cecil saying, “Both our peoples have a way to go, Ben.”

  “Think we’ll make it?”

  “I don’t know. But I’ll wager that with your ideas and my ideas we could give it a hell of a try. Think about that, Ben Raines.”

  After they had said their good nights and good-bys, for Ben was pulling out in the morning, Ben walked into the bedroom. “Are you all right, now?”

  “Of course, I am,” Salina said, her voice small in the darkness. “I always lie in the dark and bawl and snuffle.”

  “You heard everything that was said?”

  “I’m not deaf, Ben.”

  “Well… you want to head out with me in the morning?”

  “Maybe I like it here.”

  “Sure you do. Stay here, and if you’re not killed by Parr’s mercs, you can marry Kasim and live happily ever after.”

  “That is positively the most dreadful idea anyone could offer. Thank you, no.”

  “I repeat; would you like to head out with me?”

  “Why should I?”

  “You might see some sights you’ve never seen before.”

  “Ben, that is a stupid statement for a writ
er to make. If I haven’t seen the sights before, of course I’d be seeing them for the first time.”

  “What?”

  “That isn’t a good enough reason, Ben.”

  “Well… goddamn it! I like you and you like me.”

  “That’s better. Sure you want to travel with a zebra?”

  Ben suddenly thought of Megan. “I’ll tell everyone you’ve been out in the sun too long. But let’s get one thing settled; when I tell you to step-and-fetch-it, you’d better hump it, baby.”

  “Screw you, Ben Raines!” She giggled.

  “I also have that in mind.”

  She threw back the covers and Ben could see she was naked. And beautiful. “So come on. I assure you, whitey, it doesn’t rub off.”

  SIXTEEN

  Ben, Salina, and Juno pulled out before dawn, heading east, to Mississippi. Salina thought it best she tell no one verbal good-bys, so she left a note. Both Ben and Salina thought it best. Juno offered no opinion; he just liked to travel.

  “I thought I was opinionated,” Ben said. Faint streaks of red mingled with gray in the eastern sky. “With some strong ideas. But Cecil lays it right on the line, doesn’t he? I like him.”

  “You agree with him, Ben?”

  “Yes, I do. We both agree that the root cause for most of this nation’s inner problems lies in the home. But… my solution—as he said—was Orwellian. Other than that, I don’t know how to correct it.”

  “You could start by killing all the rednecks,” Salina suggested. Ben did not think she was joking.

  He smiled, thinking: she may be half-white, and look almost pure white—with a dark tan—but she was raised among blacks. The next few months should be interesting. Or years; the thought came to him, and he was comfortable with it.

  “Let me tell you something about rednecks, Salina,” he said.

  “I know all I need to know about them. I saw pictures of them in Alabama and Mississippi during the civil-rights movement in the sixties. I saw them putting high-pressure water hoses on little children; saw them throwing rocks and bottles; saw the churches that were bombed and burned; and the bodies of black people who were killed. I’ve read many accounts of the KKK—night riders.” She shuddered. “Thanks, Ben, but no thanks.”