The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter

by Kia Corthron

  Look like all the colored adults an kids got separated, the white parents yankin em apart, screamin in their faces the kids cryin Lemme go! the little fourteen-year-old tears Please! Please!

  I’m starin between this girl an that boy an their colored man an colored woman, what kinda adults take these kids to their executions? An jus then out by all the parked cars I notice B.J. Leanin gainst his truck. What’s he doin here? He ain’t in the bulk a the crowd, standin jus outside of it, his face registerin somethin I ain’t sure of.

  A cry. The fifteen-year-old boy been tripped, his satchel flies. He reaches for it but somebody kick it away. He crawl for it an another one kick it again, all laughter. That boy crawlin wild, knees a his new pants torn, crawlin, bawlin—

  STOP!

  Everyone turn to me. Everything stop, everyone confused eyes on me so yes I guess I actually did say it out loud. With maybe the exception a my valedictory I ain’t never had attention like this an it kinda funny the way they all with the open mouths an I don’t know why, this chuckle escape me.

  Randall!

  Benja’s eyes furious. Explain! her eyes say.

  Jus let em get back to their car. They wanna go, jus let em go.

  But everbody still, nobody move.

  Yaw wanna go, right?

  The grownups nod slow an tired, the kids nod fass an eager.

  They wanna go, let em go.

  The white folks back off. The coloreds start to move toward the station wagon. As they get closer a cheer suddenly erup from the crowd, like it jus hit em: the coloreds retreatin.

  Tingle in my stomach, watchin their black selves movin away. Peace. Peace! I done it. I brought about a nonviolent solution for all, everbody listened to me!

  Make it to their vehicle. Everbody get in, kids in the back, the man at the wheel, woman front passenger. She the lass one, stand with the door open. Then turn around an say to alla us,

  We’ll be back tomorrow.

  Roar from the crowd! an this n not happy. Fly to that car! The woman jump in, slam the door but before Mister can start the engine white men block the front, sittin on the hood, cover the entire windshield with their bodies, that car goin nowhere. The colored girls wailin again that dumb bitch! That goddamn dumb black bitch why? Couldn’t she a held her goddamn smartass tongue till they pulled away? Why’d she have to say anything? If you’re stupid enough to come back tomorra, why ya gotta announce it? Well, I won’t be here! That dumb, go ahead. Come back tomarra get yourselfs killed, an those poor colored kids with ya, I won’t be here to save ya!

  An someone with a hammer crash the windshield, the colored man an woman leap to the seat behind, the kids in the far back leap ahead, all seven huddled screamin in the middle seat a that station wagon an what’s nex happen so fass I’m starin right at em an miss it. So fass the white men on the car misses it, this other white man. This other white come up to the coloreds nobody notice, just another white man joinin in the fun but nex thing we know the whole goddamn colored car is emptied an like lightnin the bed a the white man’s truck fulla the whole entire colored gang an he’s drivin away, the white man’s drivin away, B.J.’s drivin the coloreds away! Takin em all gone, outa our reach! The white men still on the colored car all gapin, open mouth. By the time they register it a mad scramble to go after em, but there’s mass confusion with all the boxed-in vehicles an by the time somebody finally fine their own car, key in the ignition B.J. an company’s long gone.

  RANDALL!

  Benja about to burst a vessel in her head.

  Go after him!

  An do what?

  You see what B.J. jus did?

  I come on foot, Benja! You wamme to run after that truck on foot?

  She get close enough only the two of us hear. This reflects on our family. They’re all lookin at our family.

  Shut up! an I storm away.

  Go on over to Ma’s, it’s nine-twelve, still got a little time till work.

  Oh Randall! I’m so glad you’re here, you wamme make you a egg?

  No I gotta go to work. Why ain’t B.J. at the mill?

  This week he traded with somebody, he’s doin second shift. I don’t know why, he never has to—

  You tell B.J. drop by my work, you tell him I gotta talk to him.

  Alright. But now stay for jus one cuppa coffee, it’s all ready—

  Tell him what I said! an I’m out the door.

  Diane an Brenda Jean better stay outa my way, all I gotta say. An Mr. Martin, goddammit! Why didn’t that fool jus get in the car an go? That black bitch fool. An B.J. What the hell’d he think he was doin? I’m sweaty, a little dirty for sales work, goddammit!

  I walk in the store ting-a-ling an there they all stan starin at me.

  Then applaudin.

  We heard all about it, Randall. You was a hero!

  You tried to tell those niggers. Help those niggers. Well. What can ya do?

  They ain’t comin back. From what I heard they was damn sure outnumbered. I think it’s awful, grown woman like that leadin them little children—

  I’m all for separate but equal. But they jus ain’t never satisfied.

  While the ladies chatterin Mr. Martin jus gazin at me. Smilin. Then I note he carryin a bakery sack.

  Went to Orloff’s for buttermilk pie. Little celebration.

  It’s slow so we lounge in the back, chewin.

  You really think they comin back tomorra? Brenda Jean wanna know. She like my mother’s age, goes to our church. Been workin Martin’s Shoes twenty-seven years, Diane eleven.

  Be crazy if they did. Lick my fingers, the mad melted all outa me.

  Well they crazy to wanna innegrate in the firs place, says Diane. I think that damn nigress jus had to get the lass word in, that’s it. All hot air.

  An once they get in, then they want everything, says Brenda Jean. It’s football, tackle football, who wanna have to touch a nigger? An is that fair to the visitin team? Where’s Mr. Martin?

  He went to the bank, says Diane. Why you think they doin all this anyway? Thinkin they white. They ain’t white!

  Ting-a-ling. Brenda Jean an Diane race to the floor, eager for the customer. Then Diane peep her face back in, the curtain dividin the floor from storeroom.

  Randall?

  I’m confused, but go out to see.

  There stan B.J. Both the women dead quiet which tell me they heard all about that too. I move toward him. The ladies mill aroun, pretendin they oh so busy.

  What the hell you do? I sign.

  He jus stare at me.

  I said What you do?

  You saw.

  It was nunna your business!

  He stares.

  You think niggers should go to a white school?

  I don’t like mobs. I wasn’t going to watch them get killed.

  You think niggers should go to a white school? My arms wild, the ladies glance my direction.

  I don’t like mobs. I wasn’t going—

  This reflects on our family! They’re all lookin at our family!

  There’s a board loose in the porch floor, Ma asked me to fix it. I’m going now—

  No! You defend them, I couldn’t go to that school but you let niggers?

  I couldn’t go to that school.

  You’re deaf, B.J.! How the hell you gonna go to school? You’re deaf playin dumb, hard head, I could kill you!

  B.J. turns to walk out the door. In my head ain’t I callin on the Lord, Oh my God oh my God I can’t believe, can’t believe.

  Grab him. Tight by the waist, Don’t you walk away from me! Yellin now even if he can’t hear it, Don’t you walk away from me!

  But like no effort B.J. throw me off. We ain’t never fought like this. I was his little brother, he was my little brother. Now B.J. tall like a tree, never occurred to me
before he got the physical strength come with it. He stare at me, then turn to walk on down the street.

  I storm out onto the sidewalk, almost follow him. Then I turn aroun, go back inside, nobody on the floor. Back to the storeroom, Diane an Brenda Jean starin.

  Mr. Martin back from the bank, sittin at his desk, looks up.

  Mr. Martin I’m sorry to disturb you but I gotta make a phone call I gotta make a very important personal phone call—

  An quicker n I expect he shove his chair away an walk out, not mad but jus to gimme what I need. Yesterday I was his rotten seller on probation but like defendin segregation I’m owed new respect, for the day.

  Hello?

  I went after him. I had to go to work but I told Ma send him to the store an he come an I talked to him. Stubborn! He won’t budge won’t admit he’s wrong. But I talked to him.

  Okay.

  A toddler cryin in the backgroun which she ignore.

  Anything else? she finally say.

  You okay?

  Yeah, soundin like she shruggin. I wait. Yeah! Whatta ya mean?

  Jus wanted to make sure you okay. Jus checkin.

  You mean checkin if I’m okay so I don’t kill myself over my brother actin like a fool in public?

  Jus checkin.

  Listen. If you all actin the idiots were enough to push me over the edge I’da been dead an buried long ago. I got plenty good reasons to blow my brains out, that little drama this mornin don’t even make the top two hundred. Click.

  Randall, there’s a customer here insist you the one she wanna buy her shoes from. Diane grinnin. That emphasis on you she meanin friendly, givin me the pep talk, but we both know a customer requestin me’s in the category a Well guess there’s a first time for everything since thus far I been proven bout the lousiest shoe salesman the world ever known. I follow her out to the floor.

  Miz Letterbeck stan there, big ole smile. Oh Randall I heard about the school this mornin. Good for you! We need more young men like you.

  What kinda shoes was you lookin for?

  You tell me!

  Miz Letterbeck is one a them customers most notorious for tryin on a dozen an takin none, especially irritatin given she got money, her husband own the plastics factory. She got the commonest shoe size, 6, so we always got hordes in stock for her. I go to the back an randomly grab a sensible shoe, a high heel, an a sneaker. Come back, slip off her loafers, exposin her seventy-year-ole bunions.

  Afraid this all we got in your size today, Miz Letterbeck, I lie, as she stare startled at the selections an I pull my shoehorn outa my pocket. Twenty minutes later she’s leavin with her shoppin bag, carryin all three.

  14

  On the roof Deb Ellen an me both in suspenders, her spread eagle like some man hammerin aroun a hole.

  I see somethin?

  She look at me, then down at her stomach, slightly protrudin.

  Fuck, she say. Then sigh. Guess I hoped it go away. Back to hammerin, chucklin, Guess I tried to help it go away! Sprintin the high school racetrack, hard-jumpin every step top to bottom. But miscarry don’t seem to be in my belly’s vocabulary.

  I look up an she don’t an I see her face red cuz she jus remember who she spoke that word to. Too embarrassed to say Sorry which I sure am sicka hearin anyhow, an to make certain she don’t say it I speak next.

  I sure preciate this work. All I been gettin at the shoe store’s minimum.

  Uh-huh. Well that’s retail.

  Sometimes you make more, commission. But if people ain’t buyin. Well times’re hard.

  When ain’t they? Look at these holes! Can’t believe the whole house didn’t roll out to sea with the firs rain. Toss me more nails?

  Times ain’t never hard for Calvin an Deb Ellen is what I’m thinkin. I know they don’t even need this damn roofin job except she get bored housewifin an Calvin indulge her. But I ain’t complainin, half the pay’s mine.

  Hey we got leftover deer meat from Calvin an his brother’s huntin. Wannit? Almost run it over to yaw yesterday fresh, but then I remember B.J. comes by Saturdays an he don’t like venison, do he.

  I keep hammerin.

  Yaw still sore?

  Hey, we never uninvited him, he jus didn’t show up.

  Amount to the same thing. You tole me you don’t invite him special every time he won’t come.

  Why I always gotta do that anyway? Always put me in the place a expectation, why don’t he take some responsibility?

  Well the time to suddenly stop invitin him an wait for him to take the initiative is not after yaw jus had a great big fight, cuz it pretty clear the message he got is he ain’t welcome.

  I hear ya, Deb Ellen, now drop it.

  Poundin, half the nails she get in with jus one slam.

  You think I was wrong? You think B.J. shoulda done what he did?

  You know somethin? I don’t get the goddamn big deal. The colored kids learnin beside ours, so what? They play with each other all day excep school anyhow.

  I can’t believe you said that! You’re a mother!

  Well I said it. Deb Ellen dip her roller in the tar tray.

  Whatta you care? You never liked school no way. I dropped out cuz I had to, support the family, but you. An never wanted no kids didja? Jus pop em easy like a gumball machine an after they out in the world you could give a damn!

  She look up, her eyes narrowin.

  Be that as it may, I don’t see what all the goddamn hysteria’s for.

  The hysteria happened nex day. Wa’n’t that fair, a few concerned parents versus the goddamn National Guard! This ain’t Little Rock, Prayer Ridge ain’t no city! How the hell the blamed government even hear tell of it? Oh guess they make us an example. Glad I wa’n’t there for that, but I seen my friends from the day before! All in the national newspapers, what the hell you hummin for?

  Nothin. Hum-te-dum. (An smilin!) That was somethin. One damn day not borin in this frickin hicksville.

  Tell ya what. Benja said all the parents thinkin on private school, put together some new kinda private school affordable for everbody, close the damn public school system.

  That didn’t go over too well in Little Rock.

  You got a answer for everthing, dontcha? I’m jus tryin to be a responsible white man! Responsible father. I say father on purpose, wonder she gonna snort at it.

  But she jus say We about ready to lay the tar. Take a cigarette break first. That’s five, not ten.

  We take our five sittin on the roof edge, legs danglin. Deb Ellen blow smoke, then say How you an Erma doin these days?

  Fine. Wipe my brow, the sun bearin down hard. Regular. Her all up in arms. I ain’t been to church in a couple weeks, I ain’t been to Klan meetins, when I’m gonna commit to somethin. Like my one day off I got all the leisure energy to—

  I sigh. Open my lighter flame. Close it. Open the flame, close it.

  Don’t mean to bring up a tender point, but if things don’t work out with you all again, you can have this n.

  I stare at her.

  Your new baby?

  I don’t care if ya legally take it. We’ll all keep the lie, it never gotta know it was adopted. Or you can tell it the truth, raise it an it call me mom an you uncle. I don’t care. Jus too many mouths at our house.

  Think maybe firs you oughta talk to Calvin about this?

  Deb Ellen blow smoke. Makin love lass summer. Well it always backa our minds but neither of us ever sayin. So Calvin finally brung it up. Here’s a plan, in case, he said. An I go, Wow. Why didn’t I thinka that?

  A few seconds fore I can speak. Middle a innercourse, Deb Ellen an Calvin discussin me an Erma’s reproduction desert.

  That was potential, I say. Now the baby somethin real Calvin might feel different.

  She shrug. I’ll ask him.

  I t
ake a puff, starin at the roof nex door. Which could use some major patchin itself.

  Even if he says yes, I dunno how Erma’ll feel.

  I’ll check in with Calvin an letcha know if the offer still stans. This ain’t to jinx yaw, maybe things’ll go alright this time. Still yours might wanna sister or brother. Or cousin in the house.

  Can’t be no more jinxin than her tellin every damn body she know. One a my damn co-worker ladies run into her in the supermarket, Erma runnin off her mouth like—

  I sigh hard.

  Maybe she figure may as well be happy while it lasts. Deb Ellen put out her cigarette, stand up. We get movin now, half-hour lunch at one, oughta finish by six.

  I stand up. Deb Ellen go to pour tar in the trays.

  What if Calvin say yes but Erma say no. What chaw gonna do?

  Deb Ellen shrugs. Guess I jus have to get a extra husband for supplemental income. Or Calvin bring home another wife. An now Deb Ellen all dreamy like. Yeah, that’s better, she do the housework, take care a the kids an I get a outside job, full-time. Three of us, guess we need to get a king-size bed. Deb Ellen ponder this, rollin her roller in the tar, her eyes all glinty an a smile. I’ll be in the middle.

  15

  It’s slow. Eventually Mr. Martin says he got business to attend to, he be back three-ish. He’s a mainly easygoin boss but no matter how easygoin the boss it’s easiest goin when the boss ain’t aroun. Me an Brenda Jean an Diane relaxin with our packed lunches in the back. Today I ended up in Mr. Martin’s chair, which he don’t mind when he’s not here. Well I never actually asked him if he mind but I seen Brenda Jean sit in it before. Then again she been here twenty-seven years an always jump up when he walk in, an he say No, don’t get up, Brenda Jean, but she do an he never argue a second time.

  I think it’s a silly burden, says Brenda Jean, expectin the girl’s parents to cover all the costs.

  Silly? returns Diane. It’s a blessed right. There’s a reason they call it holy matrimony.

  I think it’s holy crap.

  Well then all I can say is good thing you an Leonard didn’t have no kids.