Tragic Magic

by Wesley Brown

  “What is it about me that you ain’t sure of?”

  “What you want.”

  “I probably want the same things Cadillac talks about and at times the same things Chilly threatened you about. The only difference between them and me is there are limits to what I will do. And that brings us to what you want, Ellington, which is protection.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “Oh, it’s true enough, especially since you didn’t say it was a lie. And there’s nuthin wrong with that. Some cats join the Muslims. Others lift weights. But most, like you, find a road dog they can talk and walk with. Don’t think I ain’t been using you, too. I got a lot a time to do, and since you been here I been doing it off you. And when you leave I’ll find someone else to do it off of. So don’t feel bad about showing some signs a weakness. Every man in here got some cauliflower in their heart. And don’t let nobody fool you. The cats that got the most are those that claim to be something more than just a man.”

  There was no way I could follow that. And I didn’t even want to. It was the kind of solo work that reminded me of Gene Ammons playing Willow Weep for Me, without ever making it sound like he’s copping a plea.

  Being around Hardknocks was like listening to the Count Basie Band doing April in Paris. No matter how many times you heard the tune, you just had to hear them do it “one more time.”

  Chilly never got the chance to stick it to me. He was sent back to court on a writ in another case he was involved in. When he didn’t return, the rumor circulated that he went into court with a paper bag over his head and testified against his co-defendants as part of a deal with the district attorney. After the trial he was shipped to Sandstone, a joint in Minnesota where snitchers are sent. A few months later, the word was that Chilly had been stabbed to death in his sleep.

  When I had completed half my sentence, I went up before the parole board. I took some advice from Hardknocks along with me on the varieties of truth that will and won’t set you free.

  “Well, Melvin, your record shows that you’ve done quite well since you’ve been here. Do you think that’s an accurate assessment of your conduct?”

  “If it means I’ve adjusted to being here, that’s true.”

  “Do you think the time you’ve spent here has been helpful?”

  “I think so.”

  “In what way?”

  “Well, I’ve had a lot of time to think and I realize now the government was correct in sending me here.”

  “So your views have changed since you’ve been here.”

  “Yes, they have.”

  “Are you saying that you no longer believe the things you said about the government? That if you had it to do over again you’d serve your country?”

  “Yes.”

  “You aren’t just saying that to get paroled, are you?”

  “Of course not.”

  “All right, Ellington, that’s all!”

  “You made it, didn’t you?” Hardknocks asked after the hearing.

  “Yeah.”

  “What I tell you. What date did they give you?”

  “September twenty-seventh.”

  “That’s not too bad.”

  “Hardknocks, how much more time do you have before you go up to the board?”

  “I don’t have to go to the board. I already have my release date.”

  “What is it?”

  “Continue to expiration.”

  “How long is that?”

  “Six years.”

  “You never told me what you were in for.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It was a while before anybody told me, either. I never mention it because I don’t like spreading rumors. Plus cats in here are just as bad as the parole board. They figure if you paying the price, you must a played the game.”

  “I’ll write you.”

  “No you won’t. And I don’t want you to either. I been doin my bit off you. But I got to cut you loose, cause the closer you get to your release date the more you’ll be thinking about the outside. With all the time I got, I don’t need to be hangin around nobody that’s gettin short. So I won’t be hangin out with you too much from now on. Just promise me when you get out you’ll do what you wanna do your own way and not worry about what people think. Cause once you make up your mind, you your own majority.”

  I LEFT THE SCHOOL GROUNDS, crossed the street, and walked in the direction of Rocky’s Bar. I hadn’t gone far when I approached someone I knew. It was Alice Turner. She was still the same butterscotch beauty to the bone. And that healthy mouth of hers was turning me on already: lips that were thick strips of flesh stretched like an arched bow across her face. Growing up, I never thought seriously about getting next to her. She was just too fine and I didn’t believe I had enough on the ball. And since all the cats with the heaviest reps were hitting on her all the time, I knew I didn’t stand a chance. What surprised me was the way dudes who were supposed to be hip messed over her.

  Girls never dug her either. They always thought she had her ass on her shoulders. Alice took the harassment in stride, but this only made her tormentors sharpen their signifying jabs. A group of girls once ganged up on her after school. I stood in the crowd and watched them taunt her. Alice stood silently with her neatly braided hair, pleated skirt, knee socks, penny loafers, and her books hugged tightly against her chest.

  “I don’t wanna fight,” she said.

  “You think you too good to fight, eh?”

  “No. I just don’t wanna fight.”

  “That’s too bad,” a girl said and swung at Alice, knocking the books from her arms. Alice reacted with punches in the girl’s chest. But the other girls grabbed her from behind and wrestled her to the ground. They began to pull at her clothes, trying to destroy what they wished they had while exposing to boys like myself parts of her body we all thought we were doomed to wonder about. When the girls had finished, they seemed pretty done in by their deed. Alice got to her feet, straightened her clothes, and gathered up her books. As she walked through the crowd, it was clear from the look on her face that we had finally won her over to our belief that she was better than we were.

  The closer I got to Alice, the more I could see the change in her. She was still as foxy as ever but her fineness had lost its wild abandon. The daring that was once muscled into her walk had been replaced by a guarded stiffness. She smiled when she realized it was me, but that toothy spread that used to span her face was now hemmed in by the fear of hunters. I could tell that someone had crashed the party going on in her soul. But was the party over?

  “How you doing, Alice? It’s been a long time.”

  “It sure has. I’m doing okay. How you been, Mouth? I mean Melvin. I know you don’t like anybody calling you that anymore.”

  “That’s all right. Most people around here don’t know me by any other name.”

  “I heard about you being in jail. When did you get out?”

  “Today.”

  “That’s good to hear.”

  “I heard you got married.”

  “I was, but not anymore. What about you, Melvin? You married yet?”

  “No.”

  “Well, if you ever do, be sure you can make it with yourself before you try to make it with somebody else.”

  “You see much of the old crowd?”

  “Not too much. I just moved back from Jersey a few months ago. If I see anybody it’s usually at Rocky’s.”

  “I was just on my way over there. You wanna come and have a drink with me?”

  “All right.”

  Rocky’s familiar mellow lighting relaxed me immediately. There were only a few people inside when Alice and I walked in. Midgy, the barmaid, was the only person I knew.

  “Hey, Midgy.”

  “How you doin, girl?”

  “What’s wrong, Midgy, can’t you speak?”

  “Mouth! Is that you?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “When you get out?”

  “T
oday.”

  “Well, that calls for a celebration. You and Alice’s first drink is on the house.”

  “It’s funny. I really wanted to talk to you, but now I can’t think of anything to say,” I said.

  “What’s there to talk about? You just got out of jail and I just got out of a marriage. We haven’t seen each other in a long time, so we’re having drinks together. After that we’ll go our separate ways and probably won’t see each other again for another five years.”

  “I guess I’m just sentimental.”

  “Did you know I always dug you, Melvin?”

  “You mean to tell me that all this time—”

  “That’s right.”

  “But you never said anything.”

  “Neither did you.”

  All those years that Alice had been in walking distance I’d never told her how I felt about her to her face. She had probably been around a lot of cats like me who felt she was beyond our reach and refused to allow her to be real for others besides herself.

  I felt a tent pitch itself in the crotch of my pants.

  “What are you doing tonight?” I asked.

  “Look, Melvin, I know you just got out of jail. It’s only natural for you to want to hook up with a woman. And I’m probably the first one you’ve run into.”

  “That’s not the only reason I want to see you.”

  “I didn’t say it was. But I just want you to know that you don’t have to convince me that it’s not on your mind.”

  “Damn, Alice, who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?”

  “I’m just trying to save both of us a lot of trouble… You see, the mistake I’ve always made with men was wanting them to convince me that they wanted to do more than just fuck. And the funny thing is that I’ve met very few men who have really wanted to fuck me. If they had, things probably would have worked out better. Most of them only wanted to fuck themselves.”

  “You think I’m like that?”

  “I don’t know. But I’m not going to try to find out.”

  “Now, ain’t this some shit!” I turned in the direction of the voice and saw a huge woman standing a few feet away with the backs of her hands pushing their way into bulging hips. She had probably always been heavy, but had moved way beyond that now. I wondered when she had stopped trying to halt the spiral of weight and decided to let it mount without any resistance. But before I could answer my own question I recognized who she was.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” she said, pushing in next to me in the booth.

  “Hey, Pauline,” Alice said.

  “How you been, Pauline?” I asked.

  “I was all right until I saw you two over here lookin like you stuck on each other. Don’t tell me after all these years you two got a thing goin on?”

  “No, we were just talking.”

  “Just talkin, hunh? That’s a switch for you, ain’t it, Mouth?”

  “People can change, can’t they?”

  “No! People can’t change! People do a whole lotta shit but they don’t change!”

  “You think so?”

  “Hey, I know so! Look at you two. Now, I don’t want to get in your business, Alice, but…”

  “Then don’t!”

  “Now, ain’t this some shit! That’s just what I’m talkin about. You ain’t changed a bit. You still think your shit’s gold bullion. And you, Mouth. I heard about you being in jail for not goin in the service. That didn’t surprise me none. You always been strange. Things other people just go ahead and do always seem to give you problems. That’s how you got the name Mouth. Remember?” Yeah, I remembered.

  “I can’t wait till we play spin the bottle so I can mack with Reatha.”

  “Yeah, me, too. I’m gonna be macking with Anita for days.”

  “Who you gonna mack with, Melvin?”

  “I dunno yet.”

  “Well, whoever it is, you better do it right the first time cause if she don’t like it she’ll tell everybody and they’ll think you got crippled lips.”

  “You know how to mack, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How do you do it then?”

  “You just hold your mouth a certain way, that’s all.”

  “Aw, man, I bet you ain’t never macked with a girl.”

  “So what! You ain’t never done it neither.”

  “Yes, I have, too. Otis and me both did. You just wasn’t around.”

  We were huddled up tight, all eyes on the bottle lying on its side. A hand reached down, gripped it, and with a flick of the wrist turned the bottleneck into an accusing finger making each of us its victim for an instant before the friction of glass and tile halted all movement. The bottle claimed me and a girl named Loretta. She was a striking deep purple, but what got to me the most about her was her smile. When she spread her lips apart, the upper gums showed like a balcony above the front row of teeth. I closed the door behind us, silencing the shouts urging us on.

  “Gone, Melvin, make that mack melt in her mouth!”

  Once inside, she stood against the wall with her arms folded. I was a few feet away with my head down, shifting my feet.

  “What you waitin for?”

  “I’m not waitin for nuthin. I just wanted to make sure you was ready, that’s all.”

  “Well, come on then, if you gonna do somethin.”

  Taking a deep breath, I lunged at her, forgetting all the tender practice macks on the back of my palm. Surprised by my sudden move, Loretta drew up, bracing herself. My mouth rammed hers and it was bones and teeth meeting in total disregard for lips. We both clapped hands over our mouths. I tried to apologize through my bruised chops, but Loretta had already hatted up out of the room. The laughter from the other room told me I was through, over the hill in mackland after just one step.

  “One thing’s for sure, Pauline,” Alice said, “you haven’t changed a bit!”

  “You damn right! Why should I? You know, for a long time it really drugged me that I couldn’t lose any weight. Then I realized that it was because of my weight that men would joke and kid but never play with me. That’s your problem, ain’t it, Alice? Men always playin with you! But maybe you like bein played with. Shit! Don’t tell me people change.

  “You know, I been doing hair at Terry’s for quite a while. The finest hussies around come in there. They tell me things they wouldn’t dare tell anyone else. They figure they can tell me cause I don’t have their problems. Now, ain’t that some shit! Their problems come from bein touched. Mine come from not bein touched at all! But you know what? The more I listen to them hussies the more I believe I’m in good shape, cause most of them are just as treacherous as the men they badmouthin. Shit! Don’t tell me people change!”

  “Have you seen Otis around?” I asked.

  “Yeah, he’s around.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s doin fine as long as he keeps his hands in his pockets.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “He lost a hand in Vietnam,” Alice said.

  I shook my head but didn’t say anything because I was afraid it wouldn’t have sounded sincere. And it wouldn’t have been. I felt a malicious pleasure over the news that after all those years of flawless movement through the chippies’ playground, Otis finally had a handicap.

  “What’s he been doing since he got out the service?”

  “He’s been workin as an engineer at that black radio station in Harlem, WHIP. He’s definitely played that no-hand bit to a bust,” Pauline said.

  “Why do you say it like that?”

  “Hey, I’m not knockin it. Shit! Behind what happened to him he should get everythin he can. That’s more than I can say for you, Mouth. The only thing you gonna get for your trouble is time served.”

  “That’s cool with me.”

  “Aw, Mouth, come off that noble bullshit! There ain’t no difference between you goin to jail and Otis goin in the service. You both were just tryin to impress somebody
.”

  “At least I didn’t lose my hand.”

  “Yeah, but you might a lost something else and don’t know it’s missin yet.”

  “Hey, look, Pauline, who are you to question me?”

  “Who are you to think you can’t be?”

  “Well, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. All right?”

  “That’s fine with me.”

  “Do you know what hours Otis works? I was by his house earlier but no one was home.”

  “He works the four-to-twelve shift.”

  “Where’s the station at?”

  “It’s at 128th and Seventh.”

  I looked at my watch. It was after six. My folks were probably at home by now.

  “I’m gonna split.”

  “If you want to come,” Alice said, “some of us are going to a disco later on at this place downtown called La Magnifique.”

  “Okay, but I’ll have to meet you there. I have to go home and see my folks. Then I want to stop by the radio station and see Otis.”

  “Well, if you decide to come, it’s at Fiftieth and Broadway.

  “All right. I’ll see you later. Excuse me, Pauline.”

  “You’re excused.”

  PAULINE HAD REALLY GOTTEN next to me. I didn’t want to believe that my only reason for not going into the army was to get attention. I had thought a lot about my motives while I was in prison. Otis had schooled me early in the importance of the sound and not the meaning of words. I had to admit that my beliefs were often shaped by the attention I thought they would get. But something happened once that showed me how believing in something could bring a kind of attention I hadn’t bargained for.

  I was walking along 125th Street. At the corner of Seventh Avenue a crowd had gathered and was listening to a man speak. He was standing on a milk crate. There wasn’t much of him, just a hanger-thin frame on which his clothes were hung. He moved like a torch singer, using his body to make the lyrics of a song do something there were no words for. His mouth was a reckless gash with lethal doses of anger jerking at the edge of his voice. What he was saying must have slipped up on something familiar inside those present because necks were craned forward and attention claimed every face.