by Kia Corthron
Good, cuz we been savin. Hopin to repeat our honeymoon. Savannah.
I bout fall off my chair laughin.
Too bad they ain’t brung out my breakfast tray so I could throw it atcha!
I’m practically rollin on the floor then in fly Ma. All she got to see is Benja’s face to bust out bawlin.
Aw little girl, what he do to you?
Ma, it ain’t that bad. An now she cryin. Stop cryin, Ma. Stop.
Why i’n’t you call? Turnin on me. I’m phonin over to Benja’s, wonderin why nobody answerin, then I get scared, call over to Sugar Schaeffer’s.
Now there’s B.J. standin in the doorway, musta drove Ma here. I know he see me but don’t look my direction. We ain’t talked since that day at my store but this ain’t about mad now. He jus can’t take his eyes off Benja, his chest risin fallin risin fallin. Then he turn an gone.
I get up, go to the cop.
You found him yet?
Who?
The husband. Her husband.
I wa’n’t lookin for him.
Ain’t he at large?
She ain’t pressed no charges.
You seen what he done to her.
That’s why he come by I ain’t lettin him in. Not till he cool off.
Till he cool off?
Look. I don’t like domestic. I feel like some Peepin Tom, intrudin between a man an woman, their business. But till he calm down, my job’s to keep em apart.
So you ain’t arrestin him?
For what?
I take a walk down the hallway keep movin keep movin or I’m a goddamn punch this cop’s lights out. Come back to the room.
Where’s B.J.?
I shrug.
I thought you went after B.J.
I was talkin to the damn public servant at the door.
You gotta find B.J. You gotta find him! I don’t want no trouble!
You seen your face? Little late for that.
Randall! If I was close enough, Ma’d prolly hit me.
Find him! Find him! Like some nutty women’s chorus.
Okay! I think he jus went to the bathroom!
You gotta find him! Why Benja pourin all these tears now Ma’s in the room? An they ain’t fake. Ma got that effect.
I’ll find him!
Take me a breath.
I’ll find him. Don’t worry, I’ll find him.
What, she think B.J.’s out searchin for Aaron, beat him up? Big as he is, B.J. never won arm wrasslin with me comin up, pretend like he lose for fear a hurtin me. Which is to say, he ain’t the aggressive type. Where B.J. went is to the bathroom to cry after he seen Benja. Or throw up, an meanwhile them women whipped up in some wild frenzy, God! What a family!
He ain’t in nunna the bathrooms. I go back to the room. Her breakfast tray in fronta her but she ain’t touched it, look up when I walk in, worry face. An tired, the pills gettin to her but she fightin it.
He was in the bathroom. But he tole me he had to go to work.
Ma an her jus stare, mouths half open.
An I gotta go to that voter registration. I locate a tiny spot on my sister’s cheek ain’t bruised an gentle kiss it. I’ll be back this evenin.
Walk past the dumb cop to the stairs, fly down em, out the door. Half runnin, fury sure is an accelerator, I’d ever had this kinda fury in school I’da been the track star. All roads leadin to Benja’s, don’t ask me why I’m headed there. Her idiot husband surely ain’t nowhere in sight, always vanish after his little episodes, the bar or some friend’s.
When I get to her place, all quiet. Eerie, I’m s’use to the commotion a all them kids. I step through the yard, through the kitchen door.
Thud! backa my head, the room spinnin an I’m lookin up from the floor. Aaron poundin my face.
You an your fuckin brother! Kill you both, this is my property! My house!
I think I’m about to go out, then Aaron suddenly pulled up, away, suspended in air like God come down yanked him offa me. A struggle, but I manage second try to lean up on my elbows, adjuss my eyes.
Aaron white as a sheet. Close to his face is B.J. B.J. behine Aaron an towerin over Aaron, BJ.’s right arm aroun Aaron’s torso tight, his leff hand on Aaron’s jaw, one twist an all over for Aaron. B.J.’s right fingers move.
He wants to know if you want your neck broke.
Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh bess Aaron can say, his jaw in that position. B.J.’s fingers move. I reach into Aaron’s hip pocket, pull out his wallet. Aaron’s eyes try to follow.
He tole me get your wallet. You always walk aroun this much cash, boy?
Pay day pay day.
That’s right, Pay day Friday out at the see-ment mixers.
The tears rollin slow down Aaron’s cheeks. B.J.’s fingers move.
He says he checked your car, you got plenty enough gas to get to your mother’s. You go there an cool the hell off. The money’ll stay here with Benja. An ever touch my sister again, I’ll kill you.
Aaron look at me. My face red warm.
I mean he’ll kill you.
B.J. releases Aaron an Aaron falls to the floor. His neck an arms is all shades a purple. He stares at us both, specially at B.J. Then stumbles out the door.
I sign: Where did you come from?
I was here before, I knew he was hiding. I knew he saw me so I hid. Till he showed his face.
B.J. goes to the sink, washin his face an hans with the bar soap. I stare at my brother, my big brother. Aaron was scared a him, not me. Aaron look at B.J. he see somethin. What’s the word? Formidable. But Aaron come outa hidin for me, Aaron look at me, see nothin.
Just as I’m thinkin I ain’t heard no car engine start up, I turn to the door an here come Aaron approachin fass with his pistol aimed straight at B.J.’s back.
B.J.!
But course my brother ain’t heard me, wipin his face with the towel.
Aaron, no!
B.J. sense somethin an swerve aroun, facin Aaron, who got the revolver close range, close to B.J.’s heart.
You dummy, says Aaron. You goddamn deaf an dummy.
Aaron. Aaron, you don’t wanna—
When you checked my car for gas, it mighta benefitted you to check the glove compartment cuz guess what I had stored there.
AARON—
Click.
Aaron jump like me, like he didn’t quite mean to pull the trigger, jus him all hot n crazy he slipped. But now his face confused: why come nothin happened?
Click.
Click.
Aaron lookin all mystified, peerin down the barrel, shake the gun like it’s a flashlight gone weak, need a jiggle.
An all calm B.J. slip his hand in his front pocket, pull em out. Bullets.
Aaron’s mouth fall wide open. An defyin any logic he turn the aim back on B.J., tryin again. Click. Click. Click.
Then he turn toward the door, like embarrassed.
In a second B.J. got him, slap Aaron’s right palm down on the kitchen table, then slam that pistol hard into it slam slam slam, Aaron screamin. When B.J. through Aaron raise up that bloody thing use to be a hand, starin at it. Then Aaron turn, walk out the door, through the yard. My brother an me follow but stay on the porch. A neighborhood crowd all gathered by now, I see no Sugar nor kids so thank God she musta took em somewheres. Aaron get in his car, start it up. His leff hand on the steerin wheel, he pull out, slow an gentle, on down the road.
B.J. turn back into the house lookin tired.
You think it’s all over? Bastard’s gonna kill you.
B.J. see my signin, then look down to count the cash in the wallet like I ain’t said nothin. Guess ain’t enough leff after Aaron been to the bars all weekend, B.J. pull out his own wallet, add some dollars to it. I slap his arm.
Hey!
He look up.
What happens when he takes all this out on Benja?
Somethin breaks. Now somethin crushin on B.J., lookin like a loss little boy, like he made a terrible mistake. Yeah, maybe you shoulda thought a that, I say an sign, but his face down, an I know he seein in his head Benja an her broke bones in the hospital. Or the morgue. I fly outa there. I gotta get home an clean up God I jus hope Erma’s still in her damn mood, still in her damn room cuz seein her pitiful face is just about the lass thing I need right now.
Dammit! Why’s he always gotta undercut me? I wanted to kick Aaron’s ass! But a course B.J. get there first, B.J. the one put the fear a God in Aaron. An everbody said I was the hero at the school, but then B.J. got to come, ruin it all. An no shame! Always thinkin he’s in the right, no matter nobody else feel that way.
Soon’s I’m in my door there she stand. Mr. Martin called all hoppin mad! You ain’t at the voter registration! He give you the day off an you didn’t even show up! Then he. What happened to you? You got blood all over your. Randall. Where ya goin? Randall! Where ya goin?
My head bout to explode, countin the church bells. Ten. Ten o’clock, how the hell he know I ain’t showed? Courthouse opened just a hour ago, an he jus got to work hisself, wait. Unless he went over there before work to check. Goddammit he got up early, went over there before work to check up on me!
Bout two hundred niggers in line. Hot as hell already, no shade for em, an they look like they been here a while. Dressed like Sunday, like they bein job-interviewed for some goddamn executive position. Some of em wearin a coat, sweatin. Standin with em’s what looks like a few professionals, nigger North lawyers stirrin up mess no doubt. In the white faction which is all men, there ain’t nearly the crowd as there was for the school, an things don’t seem so tense. I didn’t know better I’d say the colored an the white lookin kinda bored.
Except my entrance on the scene seem to shake things up a bit. The white men look at me funny. So does one or two a the niggers. Then I remember I never got to wash myself, blood an all.
Well they can jus stare cuz I ain’t explainin a goddamn thing. How long everbody been here?
Some a them been here since seven, he tell me, lookin at the coloreds.
Any of em get in?
Couple. But you better believe they got turned aroun empty-handed, ain’t none of em gettin registered.
Pretty early to be in the bars, mutters somebody to his friend, but really talkin to me.
I go right up in his face. Twiced my size but don’t he take a step back. You smell any alcohol on me? I ain’t been to no goddamn bar.
Some ole auntie come outa the courthouse then, face scrunched up, lookin ready to spit nails. A chubby man giggles.
Guess she flunked the test, says Fatty.
What test? I ask.
The test ya gotta pass to register.
Rack my brain. I don’t recall takin no test when I registered to vote.
What test?
Well, it varies, says he, this crooked smile. Then cuz he can’t hold it no longer: How many pine needles on a Christmas tree? An he whoop an holler. Some a the others join him, though too hot an too early to laugh too hard. There’s blacks also hears the joke. They frown but don’t look our direction.
Randall Evans.
I turn aroun. Man about my age. Over six feet, near tall as B.J. Dark hair, mustache. A beer-sipper an it barely past ten but he don’t appear drunk. Grinnin huge.
You don’t remember me?
Oh look, says Fatty. That ole auntie tryin to protest to the cop. This oughta be good!
Francis Veter.
I stare at Francis Veter. I ain’t got a clue.
I seen you at that cross-burner lass summer, he says only half confidential. Surprised to see ya. Figured you gone on to college.
Another nigger musta got in cuz the entire line take one step forward while my brow furrows, tryin to work out who the hell standin before me.
Well you was the firs debate team!
I almost trip backwards. Debate team? Who the hell recall that?
Still remember your rebuttal. Hawaii. I didn’t know what the hell you was sayin! but I sure knowed we shoulda beat St. Mary’s.
My mouth open all bafflement, an him all starry-eyed like we talkin bout the days I quarterbacked the football championship.
An then the valedictorian. Can’t believe you didn’t go on, higher education. Course if ya had prolly you’da moved away. Wouldn’ta been here to do what you done at the school. I was there.
Oh, you was the one at the school, says somebody. Another nods some kinda polite acknowledgment, but it all ole news now.
You still don’t remember me! No wonder. We sure ain’t never shared no classes. Well I was two years ahead but even if we was same age I scarcely cracked a book, barely made it through the sixt. Then dropped out.
My head dizzy. My father died, I quit school an went to work—same ole story. That’s all people thinks a me, who the hell else outside my family recall valedictorian? An spite of it all I’m brought back: lookin out, seein Benja an Ma in the graduation audience smilin all pride. An Pa. An B.J.
That speech you give, with everyone smack in the pain a war? Brought a tear. We all felt it.
B.J. who reads every book he can get his hans on never set foot near a school till my graduation. An there in the audience grinnin, like my valedictory’s the happiest day a my brother’s life.
I seen you before all that but you didn’t know. Well how couldja? I was in my robe. Francis Veter grins, an speaks softer. We was Klan kids together, remember? I spied you at a midnight meetin once.
I gotta go, I say to Francis Veter. I gotta check in at my workplace.
Oh, okay. Hey, listen, Randall, we should talk about things. Nex steps, ya know? He glances hard at the coloreds in line, then back to me. You in the phone book?
I’m walkin, my back to him but my head nods. Glance up my way out, I see some ole uncle exitin the courthouse, rantin an a-ravin. The cops make a move toward him.
Oh he musta got question number two! I hear Fatty sayin. Where does a hula-hoop begin an end?
Ting-a-ling. There’s Brenda Jean an Diane both with lady customers, an all four look up at me, mouths wide. Shit, I keep forgettin I ain’t cleaned myself up!
Mr. Martin come flyin from the back. Out.
Mr. Martin, I can explain this mornin—
OUT!
I go back out on the sidewalk, wait for Mr. Martin to come talk. But I hear clickety-click, turn aroun to see he’s locked the door! With customers in there!
I storm roun the block. Who the hell he think he is? I been workin there near three months, I deserve a hearin. I deserve a hearin!
Go home. There she is, bawlin. He said you don’t even need to come back! He jus called, said he’d mail your lass paycheck to ya!
Oh I’m goin back, says I not stoppin head right for the bathroom shut the door.
Whadju say?
I turn on the sink, start scrubbin.
Whadju say?
I get all nekked for a deep cleanin. When I’m washed off, I open the cabinet door meer so it faces the toilet. Look at my face. Stand on the toilet I see my torso my privates. Partial view a my hairy legs. Not bad.
By the time I get back to the store it been unlocked an I go right in ting-a-ling. No one in the adult half, Diane arrangin a display in Martin’s Children’s. With the door ring her an Brenda Jean both race to adult shoes. Stop real short when they see who it is.
Oh hi Randall. Diane all nervous.
Where’s Mr. Martin?
Jus then he come out. You need to go on home, Randall. I already called your wife about the arrangements.
Arrangements? He think I’m dead?
Mr. Martin, I deserve a hearin.
I don’t think you
do.
My sister’s in the hospital! Her husband. Somethin happened, I had to take her to emergency.
I’m sorry to hear that but—
An then I did go to the voter registration! After no sleep all night I went, an there ain’t nothin goin on! Bunch a niggers standin in line for hours jus to get rejected! There ain’t gonna be no trouble, Mr. Martin. I figured I’d be doin more good at work here than jus standin there. Since you promised to pay me for the day’s trouble anyway.
Well whether you there or here seem like you still expect me to pay you to not sell shoes.
Like I can feel my pupils dilatin.
Go on home, Randall. Until today you been a very pleasant young man, I’ll give you a good recommendation for your nex job. Long as it’s not sales.
I look at him an Brenda Jean an Diane all starin, goddamn pity in them women’s eyes. I turn toward the door.
I hear they’re hirin out at the chicken farms, he says to my back. Slaughterin the hens. They train ya, you don’t need any skills—
I’m throwin the display shoes at em, the high heels an slippers an espadrilles, rain rubbers an boots. All of em duckin runnin screamin, I clear all the shoes off the shelves fass, shoes everywhere, then I pull the damn shelves down too! The store a mess in seconds, like a hurricane an the lass thing I do is take off my own goddamn Martin’s wingtips an hurl em at the store owner himself.
Stormin down the street in my stockin feet I don’t know nor care where to go nex. Then I hear the distant siren an know that’s one decision I won’t have to worry about makin.
Nappin. When I wake dark out, there sets some kinda gruel, cold now. I eat it, lick the tin plate shiny till I see myself. Lookin a damn mess again. Guess I was a teeny bit resistant to the arrestin officers an got a teeny bit banged up for it. In the reflection I glimpse somethin dark an familiar in the cell nex door.
That ole uncle twas throwin a fit at the voter registration. He stare straight ahead, his face all rage, like I was feelin. But the nap suck most a my fury out.
Now a young colored in a suit let in by the guard, who clearly jus been woke up from his own siesta. The attorney an the ole uncle speaks in low voices, an I catch enough syllables from the younger to definitely reckonize Yankee. Then he walkin away, right past my cell.
