"Me stop'em?! I didn't tell him to go! He been callin' me a cracka' for the last twenty minutes! What about that?!" Bart steamed.
"He was a guest in our home, Bart, our guest..." Gert argued back. "...you of all people, have no right judging him! Neither of us are in a position to be judge over someone else! You had no right!"
"He got mad first!" Bart defended his actions, "He started at me first!"
"Do you know what you sound like, Bart?!"
"Gert, leave'im. Lucas a grown man, and I'm sho' he did his part in this." Lydia spoke up between them, watching Lucas churn up dust on the way through their yard, heading up the driveway and then turning onto the road and speeding down it. She stood unsure of what she was feeling right then. Aware that her actions, just might possibly undo all that she had to get them back together again. Both men were obviously of strong personalities, proud and stubborn. The older men got, the more stubborn and cranky they were. She hated the idea that they didn't get along, when it meant so much to her daughter that they did. Lydia stood realizing that she had gone from not giving enough to her children, to wanting to give her all to the one that was left home and still in contact. In doing this, she may have jeopardized what she'd rebuilt with Lucas. Facing that, she knew she couldn't make everyone happy. Left with the choice between her husband and daughter, for now—she had to choose her daughter.
She felt a hand on her arm, gently caressing. "Lydia, I'm so sorry about this...really I am." Gert started and turned to her husband. "Bart?!" She called to him.
He inhaled long and deep, watching the truck as well. Standing as he was with mixed feelings, one that he was right, and the other—wishing he had just kept his mouth shut. He didn't like that his wife was also right. He never failed to recognize when she was. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but for once, it had felt good to point out the sins of someone else, so he could diminish his own guilt over his past errors. While yes, he could brag about his sons accomplishments, because they were there to see. There was the other side of the coin he liked to keep face down, the side his wife had often said about him, was that he had been heavy-handed with their sons. She'd even accused him of being cruel to them; especially, one in particular. For a moment, he rode on the other man's sin of abandoning his children. He'd provoked it after all, therefore, he felt, justification and pleasure in pointing out what he considered, was the bigger sin. After all, spare the rod, spoil the child, too much rod or not, he was there, thus making him feel better about himself. He may have not been a perfect father, but one thing his children could all say, and that was that he had always been there for them. Then he thought about Jake, the one who claimed otherwise. Thinking about Jake, all that came to mind was, one out of four wasn't bad. It didn't occur to him to look at his daughter, Kathy Ann—she was a young woman, as such—whatever her failings were, they could be forgiven...but for being less than a man, Bart could not easily forgive that.
"Well, I guess we should go on in and have breakfast 'fore it get cold." Lydia suggested. No sooner than she said so, they looked up to see the truck speeding back to the drive and down it, returning.
Bart took a deep breath and braced himself. Gert turned to him. "I don't care what you have to do to fix this—I just want it fixed." She then turned to Lydia. "Let's go back inside."
Lydia was feeling unsure, she smiled sadly, but declined. "I bet' not, Gert, may make things worse. I need to see what he gone say when he get back here. If he say he wanna go, I'm gone have to go with him."
Gert's anger grew another notch as her eyes shot daggers at her husband. Bart reached up and scratched his head, wondering how in the world was he to fix this. Whether he did or not, he was going to have to give it a try.
Lucas' truck pulled up before them. Snatching it into park, he cut his engine, threw the door open and stepped out with his eyes dead set on Bart.
"I'm back!" Lucas started right off.
"So it seems." Bart returned.
"Well, b'fore I leave here for good, I got something to say to you, Mr. High and Mighty! And I'd appreciate it, if you let me finish fo' you get to crowing to the heavens again!"
"I'm listening...long as you leave off the name callin'!" Bart invited, keeping his eyes from his wife.
"Fair enough! I want you to know I'm back because I be damn, if I'm gone be accused of runnin' again! All my life, I done stood firm in the face of some serious hell! Lots of it brought on by white folks in some way or the other! I stood firm. And the one goddamn time, I didn't and should have, I will pay for—for the rest of my days...whatever there is left of'em! I DON'T NEED YOU—AND NO—"
"Lucas, please, no more yellin'." Lydia pleaded softly.
"For once in our marriage, you stand aside, shet yo' mouth and let me speak! I mean it—shet it up!"
Lydia bit her lip, and swallowing her pride, didn't say another word.
Breathing hard, Lucas looked back at Bart, and for whatever reason, the other man stood silent and listening. Lucas decided to lower his tone, but by no means did the power lessen with the delivery. "You don't know me! You don't know a damn thing about me! Lord above knows I am guilty of walking away from my children, and not coming back! And I ain't gone explain to you why, 'cause dammit, I ain't got to! I don't owe you shit! What I will share is this, I may not a'been with my children, but I never failed to send them money! To support them! Lydia Martin, did I not send you money every chance I got?"
"Yes, Lucas, you did."
"The whole time you live in that building, how many times you pay a house note? How many?"
"I never did, Lucas, not one."
"Insurance, you pay insurance?"
"No, Lucas."
"Damn right, no! 'Cause I pay it! I work my ass off—puttin' up with all kinds of shit—to do it! An' I'm not—gone stand here, and let no man, 'specially you, Jesus Junior—that must be who you is, shoutin' like you was—paint me with that brush! I took care o'my goddamn family! Maybe not like you did, but I did, just the same!"
Gert had to look down and away, afraid the snicker that threatened would erupt.Jesus Junior! If the matter at hand wasn't so serious, she'd have to agree with him. Bart turned deep shades of red, feeling foolish now.
"I'm gone tell you now, Bart...Mr. McPherson, whatever my wrong is—that's between my children, me and the Lord. Not you—the other one— the one upstairs! You not gone put me down—you not gone knock me down, and givin' it yo'best shot, I may stumble, but you will not—keep me down! Can't nobody, tell me more 'bout how wrong I am, than what I tell myself. Havin' said that, I come to get my stuff, and get on up outta here. I don't fit in with perfect white folks too well!"
"Will you wait a minute—now—you've had your say, can I have mine?"
"Seems to me, you done said all what's on yo' mind...short of callin' me a nig—"
"Lucas, please! Enough! You said your piece, why you got to add that!?" Lydia interrupted again.
"'Cause that's what he wanted to call me!"
"Now who's judgin' who?" Bart defended. "My sayin' what I did, and feelin' as I do, had nothing to do with the color of your skin! Where you come from! I know too many white men guilty of leaving they children and they sure as hell sent no money in their absence. So just like you, I'm standing in defense of me—what I'm guilty of, I'm guilty—but I'll be damned if you'll be pinning that one on me! Just like you say, I don't know you...well, you don't know me!"
"Bart, don't start—"
"Will you shut up! Damn women! This between me and this man! Ya'll go'on back in the house, and let us settle this!" Bart ordered.
Gert almost protested, until Lucas turned to Lydia, "You hear'im, go'on! We'on need no referee! Go'on in the house!"
Gert and Lydia looked at each other, and shaking their heads simultaneously, they turned and made their way back to the house. Both men stood silent and watched them depart. Once they were inside, each took stock of the situation. Where they were. What they knew and didn't know.
Bart
took a very deep and long, dramatic breath, and turned back to Lucas. He stared into the other man's rheumy eyes, and had to make up his mind where things were going from then on.
"I don't say this much—but—I'm asking you to—accept my apologies. I was wrong. Like you say, I got no rights over you. I, myself, know as the scriptures rightly direct, before extracting the straw from your brother's eye, remove the rafter from your own. I be damn if it don't fit me today. As my wife will eagerly tell anyone who asks, I'm far from perfect. As far as a man can get. However, not ever—have I turned a body from my door, 'cause of the color of their skin. My grandchildren come already, in a many shades, and as my wife does love to brag that it's so, black blood does flow through her veins as well, so she's always said."
"I shoulda knowed that—shoulda spot it right off the bat! They always wanna be in charge! Got to be the man!"
"And no matter how I remind her she ain't, she out to prove otherwise!" Bart added, agreeing.
They both fought it, and soon, first one chuckled and then the other, and finally they smiled.
"Can we—start this over—this time—with me, enjoying my humble pie?" Bart held his hand out.
"Well, I s'pose, I should be eating me a piece too, sorry 'bout—callin' you—you know, a cracka'. I thank I just like sayin' it, make me feel good."
Bart threw his head back and laughed, and felt his hand being grasped hard and firm. Looking back at Lucas, they nodded and shook on it. For the sake of their children, each felt they needed to get along, and make this all work.
"You think after breakfast, we can come back out, look that ol'truck over—see what it needs?" Bart asked.
"Don't see why not, fact is, I 'bout cover parts for it at my scrap yard. You gone have to make your way there one day. Get one o'your boys t'bring you." Lucas invited as they walked companionably towards the house.
For the next few hours of the day, the men spent time in the garage. Afterwards, they all headed for the Dells, so Bart and Gert could show them around there. Later on, they would get to the barbecue, planning to show up early evening.
* * *
"Hey, ol'man! Wake up!" Kevin nudged his father, "Come on, you gonna sleep the day away!?" He stood by his father's bed, giving it a shake with his knee leaning on it.
Jake inhaled deep and long, and rolled to his back, with his eyes squinting and blinking—he tried to clear them to see, all was blurred for the moment. "What time is it?" He asked, closing them for the moment.
"4:15 exactly. That's afternoon time, you know, the pm. Come on, you're gonna miss all the fun, Kathy Ann is here."
"Emmm. Hey, your brother here?" Jake asked suddenly, remembering now that he'd forgotten to call him last night with all the Shawn2 events going on.
"No, still haven't heard from him yet."
Jake forced his eyes open, looked around the room, and swung his legs around to sit on the side of the bed. Pushing himself to his feet, he headed out of the room, "Follow me." He commanded his son. Kevin did so. Jake stopped at the bathroom and going in, asked before he closed the door. "What the hell is going on with him?!"
Standing outside the door, where he could hear his father relieving himself, Kevin asked, "What have you heard?"
"That he and your mom have been going around in circles about Shawn and I, that true?"
"It's nothing new, dad. He's been asking her this for a while, on and off. I kept tellin' him, just come out and say that he knows, but he won't, he keeps asking her, as if she's going to divulge something new. We've always known." He stated to the door. Listening to the water turn on at the sink, his dad was brushing his teeth. Patiently, he waited there at the door until he heard the first spit, the rinse, the spit, the gargle, the spit and then, "Always known what?!" Jake finally asked through the door.
"About you and Uncle Shawn. People have been telling him all along that Uncle Shawn is his father, but mom denies ever being with Uncle Shawn." Kevin informed him. On the other side of the door, he heard his father grunt, grumble something low under his breath, but nothing yet that he could understand or respond to. "Well, dad? Is it—true? Is it possible Uncle Shawn is Benjamin's father?"
"I'm gettin' in the shower, get a hold of your brother!" He ordered instead of answering him.
"I've tried gettin' a hold of him, dad! Mom's been going nuts making me try everything, including taking her to Chicago, to your place!"
"Don't you fuckin' dare!" Jake shouted, turning the shower on.
"I KNOW! I told her no way! I wasn't takin' her there! She's mad at me now, because I won't do it."
"I'm getting in the shower, get a hold of your brother!" Jake ordered again, as if not hearing what he'd just said. Making Kevin do a dance in frustration, "DAD! I can't get—a hold of'im!"
"Quit arguing with me and do it!"
That was all he said before the sound of the shower dominated the space, vacated by their voices, leaving Kevin in the hall, hating the fact that he seemed always in the middle of it all. He walked down the short hall into the kitchen, sat down, took out of his mobile to locate his brother's number, then grabbed the phone off the wall to dial it. It never rang, but his brother was on the other end.
"Benjamin?" Kevin asked, a bit confused, he could tell someone was on the line, and then heard the buttons being pressed as if dialing out. "BENJAMIN!" He called louder so his brother would hear him.
He did, "Hello?"
"It's me, Kevin."
"What the...? What do you want?"
"What do you think, man, everyone's been trying to get a hold of you. Why haven't you been answering your phone?"
"I was just about to make a phone call."
"To who?"
"Gail. What do you want?"
"Dad wanted me to call you."
"Which one?"
"Jake."
Benjamin went quiet, holding the phone. "What does he want?"
"Why you doin' this, man? You should be here at the barbecue, you know how grandma is."
"I thought you said Jake told you to call me?"
"He did, but still—grandma and granddad will be here soon, if not already, you know the first thing she'll say is, 'where's Benjamin?'."
"Tell her, Chicago."
"So, you're not coming?"
Just then his dad came out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, fresh out of the shower, "That Benjamin?" He asked, when Kevin turned to look at him down the hall. "Yeah."
"Bring me the phone." He ordered.
"Dad wants to speak with you." Kevin told him, standing and walking to his father, holding the phone out to him.
On the other end of the line, Benjamin sighed. Sitting on the sofa at his father's apartment—he wasn't in the mood for explaining himself. He'd just turned his phone on to give Gail, his girlfriend, a ring to let her know that he was all right. There were numerous messages on his phone from her, his mother and Kevin. He'd finally decided to respond to one by calling her.
Jake took the phone and walked into his bedroom. Kevin left him alone so that he could dress and talk to Benjamin. At the front door, as he was leaving, Vivian was coming in. "Your dad up?"
"Yep, he's up." He answered smiling, and then trotted down off the porch and back down the road to where all the noise and partying was going on. Vivian made her way in and down the hall, entering the bedroom. Jake looked up, he was sitting on the bed naked, towel draped around the back of his hips, from him sitting on it. It had come open, with the ends of it falling between his legs, leaving him open and exposed.
Vivian closed the door, leaning against it. He smiled at her and winked, as he spoke to his son on the phone. "Well, I'm waiting? What's going on? Why aren't you here? Why are you there?"
"What? You don't want me here?!"
"Benjamin, keep the bullshit for someone else, okay? Don't use it with me. This has nothing to do with you being there, as to why. I don't give a shit about that and you know it! So, don't fuck me off. Now, what's going on?"
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Vivian stood with her mouth gaped open, to hear him talking to his son that way. She couldn't believe it. Talk about no nonsense. He was letting her stay, so she remained quiet, staying out of it.
"I just needed to get away from there for a while, is that okay?"
"Why?"
"Because I'm just—fed up!"
"Fed up with what?!"
"Man, come on—why do I have to explain this shit to you! I'm the one in the dark, not you! Not mom! Not Uncle Shawn, or whoever the hell he is."
"Benjamin, you need to get home. If there's a problem, the solution is not there, it's here. Come home, now—lock up that apartment—get in your car, and get here now."
"What good is coming home gonna do me? Mom won't confess! She won't tell the truth!"
BOMAW 7-9 Page 42
