“Nice to meet you.” Arnold shook her hand cautiously.
“You’re cute,” she said. “Suleeta didn’t tell me what a nice-looking young man you were.”
“She might not think so,” he said. “Her son, Gordo, everybody say he’s the good-looking one.”
“Yes,” she said. “I saw his picture. He’s handsome too.”
Arnold seemed at a loss for words.
“That’s quite a getup you’re wearing there,” Courtney said.
Arnold glanced down at his clothes.
“You should take your hat off in the house,” she said. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”
“No,” he said, removing his Raiders cap.
“Are you like in a gang or something?” she asked in a deadpan voice.
“No. I’m not in no gang.” He obviously didn’t like the question.
“Why are you wearing all that gangster-looking stuff then? You trying to scare white people like me? Make me clutch my purse and run?”
“I’m just wearing what I’m wearing. Not trying to scare nobody.”
“Oh, Arnold.” She smiled and patted his arm. “We dress ourselves as a signal to others. You know that. There is always a message in what we wear.”
“What the message you trying to put out?” he asked. “You got on all that black stuff, sort of tight.”
“This?” She laughed. “Okay, I must be saying — yes, I’m getting older, but look how thin I am — and eat your heart out, ya’ll.” She flared her Southern accent. “Black makes women look slimmer, Arnold. You know that, right?”
“That ain’t all you saying,” Arnold insisted.
“Arnold, you’re good. What else? Well … let’s be honest, okay? I am saying yes, honey, I got money. I am a rich bitch. You would not believe what I dropped for this little sweater. It’s Italian, you know. I am saying, whatever it is, ya’ll, I can afford it.”
“Yeah,” Arnold said. “Now, that right there what you saying.”
Courtney laughed.
“Lucky for you I ain’t in no gang,” he said, “cause you definitely saying come on over here and rob me. You out there on the streets begging for a crime.”
Courtney seemed to take this as a compliment. She laughed. “I like you, Arnold. You’re funny.”
“Suleeta tell me Truely got a crazy sister.”
“Suleeta said that?” Courtney feigned surprise.
“She said she like you. But she say you’re a little bit crazy.”
Truely stepped into the room in a towel. “Well,” he said sarcastically, “looks like the gang’s all here. I take it you two have met.”
“She already give me a lecture,” Arnold said.
“The first of many, Arnold. You can be sure of that.” Truely walked over and kissed Courtney’s cheek. “Hey, Court. How you doing?”
“A little outnumbered. But I’m up for the challenge. Suleeta told me Arnold was going to come up here to work. I forgot all about it.”
“You knew Arnold was coming?”
“I meant to tell you,” she said.
“Pretty big detail to just slip your mind like that, don’t you think?”
“Sorry,” she said. “Guess I was pretty distracted. Suleeta thought it would be good for Arnold to get a change of scenery, right? She wasn’t sure she could convince him. But he’s here now. Right, Arnold?”
“Looks like it,” he said.
“A change of scenery?” Truely looked skeptical.
“Might be a little bit more to it than that,” Arnold admitted.
While Truely dressed, Courtney played hostess, pouring wine for herself and a sports water for Arnold. “You guys decide what you want to eat,” Truely called out to them.
“You like Thai?” Courtney asked Arnold.
“Never eat it before,” Arnold said.
Courtney looked interested. “How about Indian?”
“No,” he said.
“Chinese?”
“Yeah, I eat Chinese sometimes. Some egg rolls. Some spicy shrimp.”
“You like it?” Courtney asked.
“It’s okay.”
“What do you like to eat?”
“I like a lot of stuff.”
“Name some stuff.”
“I like chicken. I like barbecue. I like pot roast. I like pork chops. I like meatloaf. I like hamburgers. And steaks.”
Courtney laughed. “Lord. Are you sure you’re not from Mississippi?”
“My grandmama come from Mississippi. Yazoo City.”
“No way,” Courtney said.
“Yeah. She real country.”
“So that’s where you learned food?”
“I don’t know. They got regular food in Mississippi? I like regular food.”
“How about ethnic foods? What’s your stance on ethnic food?”
“I like Mexican food.”
“Tacos?”
“Yeah, I like tacos.”
When Truely came into the room dressed, his hair still wet, Courtney poured him a glass of wine. “Houston, we have a problem,” she said.
Truely had obviously overheard their conversation. “No problem, Court. Our boy, Arnold, may have a Mississippi appetite, but he’s willing to try something new to please a lady. Isn’t that right, Arnold?”
“I guess so.”
“They have a great Indian buffet down at the Embarcadero. It’s fabulous,” Courtney said. “If you hate it, Arnold, we’ll stop and get you something else on the way home, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed.
“You might really like it. It’s spicy. Do you like spicy?”
“I’ll try it,” he said without enthusiasm.
GOA HOUSE WAS CROWDED as always, but they got a table after a short wait. As the three of them circled the buffet table Truely noticed that Arnold had not served himself anything except rice. “Don’t recognize nothing else,” Arnold said.
“Well.” Truely began to point to the various dishes. “This is chickpeas. I know that. It’s good too. And this is spinach with yogurt right here. It’s good. And that is some kind of cabbage with a curry powder on it. And that red meat is tandoori chicken. This is lamb with some vegetables or something. Cauliflower I think.”
Arnold looked at him with an expression of betrayal.
“Just try it,” he said. “It won’t kill you.”
Arnold tentatively took a tandoori drumstick.
“No guts, no glory,” Courtney teased.
Indian music was playing and the lights were dim. They sat down at their table and Courtney said, “I love Indian food. Try this, Arnold.” She handed him a piece of naan. “I know you’ll like this. Us Mississippi types — we like our starches.”
Arnold tasted the bread, then tore a larger piece. “Pretty good,” he said.
“So, Arnold” — Courtney paused, bowed her head and asked a silent blessing — “tell us about yourself.”
“What you want to know?” He was barely nibbling at his tandoori chicken.
“I don’t know. What were you doing this time last year?”
“Nothing.”
“You had to be doing something, didn’t you?”
“No,” he said. “Wasn’t doing nothing.”
“He was going to high school down in San Diego,” Truely said. “He quit to come up here.”
“Really?” Courtney was interested.
“Truely act like quitting school about the same as shooting yourself in the head. But that school was no good. I wasn’t learning nothing. I figured it would be easier to just come on up here and get my GED.”
“Why up here though?” Courtney asked.
“Free place to stay — over at Shauna’s. Job opportunity at the furniture company. Suleeta, she thought it do me good to get away from down there, get off on my own and see how I like it.”
“So, how do you like it?”
“Not too much so far.”
“What about your mother? What did she think about you lea
ving?”
“She don’t care.”
“Really?”
“Like I told Truely. My mama got some issues. Everybody got issues, right?”
“I know I do,” Courtney said.
“What kind of issues you got?”
“Did Truely tell you my husband left me?”
“No.” Arnold looked at Courtney with new interest. “Why he leave you?”
“Another woman,” she said. “Younger. Got two little boys.”
“You mad?” Arnold asked.
“I’m sort of torn between wanting to kill him and wanting to forgive him.”
“You better forgive him then,” Arnold advised.
Courtney laughed her deep, rich laugh. “Out of the mouth of babes.” She patted Arnold’s arm. “You’re right, baby.”
“You don’t seem too miserable.” Arnold looked at Truely. “She don’t seem miserable, does she? Lots of women, when a man does them wrong, they act miserable.”
“I have my moments,” Courtney said. “Believe me.”
“Must be a dumb man,” Arnold said. “I don’t see why he want to leave you.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” Truely echoed.
“You two are sweet.” Courtney leaned over and kissed Arnold’s cheek.
“I guess I’m sort of like you, Arnold. Starting a new chapter — whether I want to or not. And, come to think about it, Truely is starting a new chapter too.”
“If it’s all the same to you two, you can leave me out of the true confessions here,” Truely said.
“You mean because of Shauna?” Arnold asked.
“You know about that?” Courtney asked.
“I know she double-timing him with that guy Pablo.”
“What? Guess that must make me the only one who didn’t know.” Truely forced a smile.
“Suleeta say you don’t want to know. She say all you got to do is open your eyes and see the truth, but you’re not ready. She tell me not to say nothing about it unless you do.”
“Hmmm. I don’t remember saying anything about it either.” Truely tore a piece of naan from Arnold’s grip. “And here you are talking about it.”
“My bad,” Arnold said.
“Yes, why don’t we all just pretend that it never happened or that we don’t know it ever happened or that Truely is the only person in the world with no issues,” Courtney said. “Would that be better, True?”
“Suits me,” he said.
WHILE TRUELY PAID THE BILL, Courtney and Arnold waited outside on the sidewalk in the cool air. “So you hated it didn’t you.” Courtney said. “The food?”
“Some of it taste all right,” Arnold said. “I just don’t like the looks of it.”
“You’re not eating the looks of it,” Courtney said.
“It just don’t appeal to me,” Arnold said. “Everything mixed together.”
“Fair enough.” Courtney looped her arm though his. “We’ll stop and get you a hamburger on the way home. A growing boy needs food.”
THEY DROVE ACROSS TOWN to an In-N-Out to get Arnold a Double-Double — his favorite. Afterward, when Truely turned the car toward Shauna’s place in Nob Hill to take Arnold home, he said, “No need to drive over to Shauna’s, man. Why don’t I just stay over there with ya’ll tonight? That way you ain’t got to go out your way and take me back.”
“I don’t mind.” Truely was missing the point, his specialty.
“You got all them sofas,” Arnold said. “I just sack out there with ya’ll.”
“We’re not really set up for company,” Truely explained.
“I won’t be like company. I’ll just sleep anywhere.”
“We’ve got to be up real early in the morning to head down to the lake.”
“We’re going fishing,” Courtney explained. “Truely loves to fish.”
“I like to fish,” Arnold said.
“Really?” Courtney seemed amused.
“Maybe I just stay with ya’ll tonight and go fishing with you tomorrow.”
“Wait a minute here.” Truely laughed.
“Come on, True.” Courtney nudged him. “Let him stay over. It’ll be fun.”
“Fun?”
“We’ll have a pajama party.”
“The hell we will.”
“Let him stay. He can go fishing with us tomorrow. What will it hurt?”
“Yeah, man,” Arnold echoed.
“The more the merrier, True. Right?”
“What is this? Two against one?” Truely turned the car back toward his apartment building. “Arnold, Courtney’s got the guest bed. So that means you got to sleep on one of the small sofas with your feet hanging off.”
“Okay by me.”
THAT NIGHT, Courtney went to bed in her crisp white monogrammed pajamas, Arnold in a pair of borrowed athletic shorts and Truely in his standard sweats and T-shirt. Courtney had taken off her makeup, and barefaced she looked heartbreakingly vulnerable to Truely. She had gotten a glass of water at the kitchen sink and fumbled through an assortment of prescription bottles which she lined up on the counter. That unnerved him too. “What is all that?” he’d asked her.
“Sleeping pills,” she said. “Now that I’m living alone, you know, I told you I get nervous out in the woods alone like that. Even when Myra stays — we both get nervous. We hear stuff. I don’t know how to fall asleep anymore. These pills are my best shot at it.”
“What about all that other stuff?” Truely asked.
“Let’s see. This one prevents swelling. This little pill here is for pain. And this is hormone replacement. This one is a diuretic. This one is a beta blocker …”
“Damn, Court,” Truely said.
“You not careful, you get hooked on that stuff,” Arnold said. “I mean it.”
“I appreciate you two being concerned,” Courtney said. “It warms a girl’s heart.” She walked over and kissed them both good night. “It’s not every night I have such interested observers of my bedtime ritual.”
Before bed Truely turned the TV on and did his habitual channel surfing in search of Gordo. Of course he didn’t explain. He didn’t need to. The others seemed to understand that they needed to lie in the darkness with the TV flashing war news, the spoken words blurring into a somber hum. They needed to remember Gordo and pay their private tribute to him before allowing themselves to drift off to sleep.
Just minutes after she lay down in bed Courtney’s medication must have kicked in, because despite her claims of insomnia, she was quickly asleep. Arnold was next to fade. Truely remained awake long into the night. Long after he turned the TV off he lay staring into the darkness, listening to the comforting sounds of city traffic outside, the serenade of sirens, the occasional shouts of obscenities and wails of drunken laughter. His mind was wandering. He looked across the room where Arnold was sleeping on his back with his arm slung over his face. He was a funny kid. He was annoying for sure. But there was something about him.
It wasn’t that he was like guys Truely had known back in Hinds County. None of them had dreamed any dreams to amount to anything — including himself. They hadn’t known they were allowed to. Some found out too late. Others never found out. Well, except for Mose. Mose had stood apart from the others all along, not just because of his God-given talent, but because he refused to yield to the reality that slapped him in the face every morning when he woke up poor and black in rural Mississippi.
But Arnold was not Mose. Not a country boy. Not a Southerner really. He was a hardcore urban guy who wanted a life he didn’t have, never had had, couldn’t really even define, and had no idea how to get. He wasn’t ashamed to want more, to want better. His transparency was hard to witness. It was embarrassing sometimes. But maybe that was the endearing thing too. Here he was claiming he liked to fish, practically insisting on going with them to the lake in the morning — when Truely doubted the kid had ever been near a lake before, never mind ever baited a hook or gutted a fish.
TRUELY’S BUDDY JAXON
owned a good stretch of land just off 280 which backed up to one beautiful lake. You had to park on a bluff and walk down a steep path to get to the lake. But it was worth the trek. It was Courtney’s job to carry the sandwiches and snacks they’d bought. Cheese curls, fried pig skins and salted peanuts, just for old time’s sake. “There’s fish food” — Truely’d held up the boxed worms — “and then there’s fishing food” — he waved a bag of pig skins. Courtney laughed. Arnold was not amused.
Truely and Arnold carried the fishing rods, the tackle box, a blanket, a couple of folding chairs, a cooler of ice, and the cane poles and worms Courtney insisted on bringing — but so far had refused to touch. “We don’t really need these,” Truely said. “I can show you how to use these rods, Court. Once you get the hang of it it’s a hell of a lot easier. No worms involved.”
“I hate those rods and reels, True,” she’d said. “I like to fish the way we fished as kids, with cane poles we cut ourselves out of Daddy’s bamboo thicket and worms we dug out of his worm bed.”
“You’re just an old-fashioned girl at heart, aren’t you, Court?” Truely teased.
“Some things can’t be improved upon, True.”
“I’m surprised you don’t object to killing these worms. They never hurt anybody. You could just as easily use these pretty little lifeless hand-tied lures. Look, I got some great ones. Works of art, right here. See? Feathers and everything.”
“No,” she said. “I just want to do it the old way.”
“I get it,” Truely teased. “You’re thinking you’re less likely to catch anything the old way — and you’d just as soon not catch anything. Am I right?”
She laughed. “You know that fishing was the original form of transcendental meditation, don’t you, True? If you trace it all the way back to its origins, the art of meditation goes directly back to cane pole fishing. It’s a little-known fact.”
“No doubt,” he said.
ARNOLD WAS RELATIVELY QUIET on the trek down to the water. He was loaded like a pack mule and traveled cautiously down the path. At one point he paused and looked around. “They got snakes out here?” he asked.
“Sure,” Truely said. “Snakes live in the woods. This is the woods.”
Eat, Drink, and Be From Mississippi Page 20
