Eat, Drink, and Be From Mississippi

by Nanci Kincaid

  “Good Lord, Arnold,” Courtney said.

  “You were a little kid. You sure you remember right?” Truely asked.

  “I seen her do it. She pulled his gun out from the bedsheets where he kept it when he slept and he sees she’s got it and he starts to back up like he might try to make a run out the door or something. She waves that gun around and yells all this shit I can’t remember what and then she just aims right at him and pulls the trigger. Just like that. The sound of that bullet go through me, crashing into my chest. Seemed like she shot me the way my body got to jerking. My old man, he went down like a tree falling over, like on those TV shows, you know, where the guy just die before he hit the floor. He just go out right there with me and Vonnie watching. Me, I was crying and wetting my pants, but Vonnie, she was just quiet. All she does is start rocking back and forth sort of banging her head into the wall where they had fixed us a little bed over on the side of the floor. I go over and get her, you know. She just bucking back and forth like that. My old man is laying there and bleeding a lake of red blood all over the floor of the house. He don’t even twitch.”

  “Arnold, baby.” Courtney touched his arm. “Oh, baby.”

  “When the police come, then I hear Mama tell them that my old man’s brother is the one done it. His brother live off in New Jersey or somewhere. Or maybe he don’t even have no brother. She was convincing too. She about make me believe her myself and I saw with my own eyes what really happened. But I hear what she say to the cops and then when they ask me — I am a kid now — I just say what she say. ‘His brother done it. His brother shot him dead.’ I was shaking like I was shot too and the police lady wrap me up in a quilt because she cannot get me to quit shaking. But Vonnie, she never cries.”

  “That’s bad,” Truely said. “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Me too,” Courtney said.

  “So, listen y’all, I’m not saying my mama just go around killing people. Right? She killed my old man — and maybe she got reason to. Don’t seem like nobody suffered his loss too much. So I don’t condemn her. Okay? My mama got issues, like I say. This just one more on the pile.”

  “You never told anybody until now?” Truely asked.

  “I ain’t going to the police or none of that. I am just telling you two and maybe somebody else if I want to. My grandmama the only other one that knows.”

  “You told your grandmother?”

  “Naw, man. My mama told her. Back then my mama act proud of it. She know her own mother ain’t going to turn her in. She just said to me — ‘Arnold, your old man got what he had coming, and now I don’t want you to ever say nothing about this again, you hear me?’ I never did. I just thought about it some. But I never said nothing.”

  “Wow.” Truely whistled.

  “So that right there is one of my secrets.” Arnold spoke as if he had just put money in the offering plate and was relieved to have had the spare change. There were so many layers to this kid. He was maybe seventeen and had lived more mess than any six adults Truely knew. What had kept him from getting a gun and following his mother’s example — just shooting the hell out of people causing him problems? Exactly how many bullets would that take? Instead he was funny and friendly — and charmingly, annoyingly bold. It occurred to Truely that he might need to say some things to Arnold that he had not said. He might need to tell him that despite the messes he had gotten himself into he was a special kid. He had the makings of a good man too. A man with a good heart, which was what Truely had originally set out to be as well. He wasn’t sure if he had fared as well as Arnold.

  It was funny, because when Courtney suggested this round of true confessions Truely had been almost positive that Arnold’s secret would have something to do with Gordo. He would have bet money on it. Maybe Gordo was only a few years older than Arnold, but if anybody asked Truely he would say that Gordo was not actually the big brother Arnold had always wished for, that instead, somehow more menacingly, Gordo had become Arnold’s surrogate father figure. Something about that wasn’t right.

  “Gordo know anything about this?” Truely asked.

  “Maybe Gordo think he know something. But he wasn’t there, was he? Besides, Gordo ain’t the kind to rat. He got that much of the old neighborhood in him.”

  “This is some damn game we’re playing here,” Truely remarked.

  “It’s not a game,” Arnold and Courtney echoed.

  “Okay, you’re next,” Arnold said to Courtney. “We saved the best for last.”

  “Lord.” Courtney cleared her throat. “I was sure mine would be the best — or worst. Now I’m not so sure.”

  “It’s not a contest, remember?” Truely said.

  “Nobody gets shot in mine,” she said. “Not like that.”

  “Are you apologizing?” Truely asked her.

  Courtney scooted over and put her arm around Arnold. “Scoot in, Truely,” she instructed. “I want us all to hold hands when I tell mine.”

  “No way,” Truely said. “This is not church camp, Court. Next you’ll want to sing ‘Kumbaya’ and make some beaded belts.”

  “Please, True,” she said.

  “Just do it, man,” Arnold pleaded. “It won’t kill you.”

  “It might,” he said. “I swear the two of you — you could wear somebody out.” Truely stretched his hands to clasp with theirs. Already they were sweaty.

  “It’s okay,” Courtney said. “Mine won’t take long.”

  “Okay, go,” Truely ordered. “Let’s get this last cow in the barn.”

  Courtney squeezed both their hands really tight and closed her eyes and said, “Well, okay. Here goes. When I came to California and met Hastings and all — well, he was my first love, right? I got pregnant. I was scared to death — all alone in California, trying to act like I was grown. All I could think was that the shame of it would kill Mother and Daddy if they knew, that I would just break their hearts and they could never forgive me. I was scared to tell Hastings too. I thought he would feel trapped if I told him. Poor Mississippi girl traps rich California boy — right? I thought maybe he would leave me. It was too soon — it was before he ever mentioned the first word about getting married. So I got the pregnancy taken care of. My boss at the gallery knew a doctor over in Chinatown. He drove me over there and waited for me. When I cried, he cried too. Nobody else knows.”

  “Court?” Truely said softly.

  Courtney slowly opened her eyes. “Don’t you see? I got rid of Hastings’ and my baby because I thought the time wasn’t right. I was stupid. Later, when the time was right, I never could get pregnant. God wouldn’t forgive me. Even when Hastings and I both got saved and born again — no baby ever came. It’s my fault. I always knew that. So now, when everybody thinks Hastings is a jerk for leaving me for a younger woman with kids — I know better. There’s a terrible justice to it — and he doesn’t really even know that.”

  “Court, you could have told me,” Truely said. “I would have helped you.”

  “I didn’t want to shame the family, True. I never wanted you all to know what a mess I was making of things.”

  “So that’s why you ain’t hate Hastings too much,” Arnold spoke up. “Everybody wonder why you don’t hate him.”

  “I hate myself more,” she said.

  “Damn.” Arnold shook his head.

  Twenty-six

  FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS the three of them developed a routine. Sleeping late, handling their respective business and phone calls at the hotel during the day, going to the gym or walking the waterfront, maybe watching a movie in the room, then, like clockwork, heading for the VA rehab between the hours of six and seven — while Jerry was whisked away to eat his supper and drown his sorrows. Shauna’s sisters, Shelly and Becca, took turns coming to sit with Suleeta in the mornings — so Truely never crossed paths with either of them, which was fine with him.

  Most evenings Courtney brought some small token gift or a special morsel for Suleeta. The two of them seemed to have
forged a connection that escaped Truely. He found his time sitting in the waiting room just short of excruciating. When he could, he made excuses to walk the halls, go down to the car for something, call Mose Jones just to check in, maybe reread the newspaper in the dim light out on the front steps of the facility. This last was what he was doing when Shauna appeared holding a cup of hot coffee and sat down beside him.

  “Hey,” she said.

  Truely was uneasy, ready for the ritualized rumble.

  “Do you despise me, True?” she asked him.

  “No,” he answered.

  “You wouldn’t admit it if you did.”

  “Where’s Pablo?” he asked.

  “He’s got Daddy. I needed a break. I saw you sitting out here.”

  “Gets a little claustrophobic in the waiting room with Courtney and Suleeta,” Truely said. “Think I’m cramping their style. I don’t have their flair for waiting.”

  “Tell me about it.” She laughed. It was an actual laugh. This was the way he remembered Shauna — a woman more inclined to laugh it off than fight it out. She gripped her coffee with both hands and paused. “So did Mama tell you the news?”

  “Which news?”

  “I’m getting married.”

  “She didn’t tell me. But congratulations.”

  “This spring,” she said. “Pablo is sort of an action guy, you know. I like that about him. Less talk, more action.”

  “Unlike me. Is that your point?”

  “The trouble with you, True, was that you didn’t love me. I always knew that.”

  “And the trouble with you was what?” he asked.

  “You want me to say I didn’t love you either?” She tried to smile. “But Lord knows I wanted to, True. I tried my best. It sure would have simplified things.”

  “Maybe.”

  “We had everything it would have taken to have a decent life together — except …”

  “Look, I’m sorry if my indecisive ways slowed you down, Shauna. I feel bad about that now — looking back. It’s not like I had a plan or something — you know, to mess up your life.”

  “Pablo is jealous of you.”

  “Since when does the winner envy the loser?”

  “Your success mostly. Pablo has never made any money — you know that. He’s going to work for Daddy. I guess that doesn’t surprise you. Shelly’s and Becca’s husbands already work for Mackey’s Construction. Pablo will be a front office guy — do the job that Daddy should be doing, you know, if he were himself. Daddy is not fighting it either.”

  “Good.”

  “Did Mama tell you Daddy has moved out of their bedroom?”

  “She didn’t. I can’t imagine why she would.” He couldn’t help but think that might be more the sort of thing she would be likely to tell Courtney.

  “No surprise really,” Shauna said. “Between Mama’s candles blazing day and night and Daddy’s drinking and stumbling — you know. It’s no surprise.”

  “Sorry,” Truely said.

  “Plus she’s got the dogs in there with her now. They sleep in her bed. Foxie and Fred are more important to Mama now than Daddy is. Not that I really blame her. So Daddy has moved into Gordo’s room.”

  “Is that a good idea?” Truely asked.

  “The worst,” she said. “All Daddy’s ideas are the worst these days.” She touched Truely’s arm. “Sort of like yours.”

  “I don’t want to argue about Arnold,” Truely said. “It’s done now.”

  “You know his mother is in jail?”

  “I know.”

  “Couldn’t happen to a nicer woman,” Shauna said. “She almost ruined Gordo’s life. I don’t guess Arnold told you about that?”

  “Seems like — according to you — lots of folks are busy ruining Gordo’s life.”

  “You mean besides the suicide bomber?” she said sarcastically.

  “Besides the suicide bomber,” he said. “The others.”

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” Shauna laughed. “Of course you don’t.”

  After Shauna left to go meet Pablo and Jerry, Truely sat a while longer on the front stoop of the building. He was amazed that a woman who had, until recently, been a central figure in his life could suddenly become such a peripheral person — like a face he remembered from a dream he had forgotten.

  ON FRIDAY Courtney bowed out of their regular trip to the VA Hospital. Bob Gavin called her and was flying down in his private plane in hopes of taking her to dinner. “How can I say no?” she had asked Truely. When Truely and Arnold left the hotel she still had not returned from a hair appointment she’d made at the last minute to have her roots done. They were in the car and ready to go when Arnold realized he’d forgotten something — his cell phone maybe — and had to run back upstairs to get it. That put them slightly behind schedule. They rode across town without much conversation. Truely sensed that Arnold was anxious. His nerves tended to manifest in waves of sweat. Already his brow was damp and glistening. He kept rubbing his hands over his face.

  “So, how are things going with Gordo?” Truely rarely got much real report from Arnold and he had still not seen Gordo himself — Gordo had refused. Truely decided not to take the rejection personally since, according to Suleeta, the list of willing but rejected visitors was long. “Gordo doing okay?”

  “No, bad,” Arnold said. “Real bad.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “Too late.”

  “What do you mean too late?”

  “Everything already what it is.”

  BECAUSE COURTNEY WAS OTHERWISE OCCUPIED on this night, Truely sat in the waiting room keeping Suleeta company while Arnold went in to see Gordo. “I didn’t know Courtney have a new boyfriend?” Suleeta said when he explained Courtney’s absence.

  “Just an old friend,” Truely corrected. “That’s all.”

  He was sure Suleeta was disappointed in him as a stand-in for Courtney. He tried to make a little conversation, but gave up quickly because Suleeta seemed too tired to talk. She sat in a chair and seemed to be dozing off. Truely was not good at waiting. He never had been. Waiting in a place called a waiting room seemed even more of a challenge. He had trouble even sitting in a chair for long. He found himself standing up and pacing back and forth, checking his watch every few minutes, looking out the window, changing the TV channel even though the volume didn’t work and there was no sound at all. So when Arnold burst into the waiting room and announced, “Let’s get out of here, man,” Truely was grateful and more than ready to go. They kissed Suleeta’s cheek brusquely and hurried down the hall to the elevator.

  “I’ve had about enough of this place,” Truely said.

  “Me too.” Arnold had sweat through his shirt. His upper lip was beaded with perspiration. He seemed ready to bolt into a full run. Truely scrambled to keep up with him. “What’s the big hurry, man?”

  They made it downstairs, through the lobby, across the parking lot, nearly out to the car, when Truely’s cell phone rang. He patted his pockets to get the phone. Arnold suddenly turned, a really awful look on his face, and ran back toward the front door of the VA rehab center. “Man, this ain’t right,” he shouted. “I got to go back.”

  Truely was confused. He paused to take the call.

  “Thank God I caught you.” It was Courtney. “Something weird is going on, True.”

  “You’re telling me.” He watched as Arnold broke into a run and flew through the front doors of the building, nearly upending an exiting couple as he passed.

  “When I got back to the hotel just now — I don’t know.” Courtney was speaking in a quick, breathless voice. “My medicines are gone, True. The painkillers. Every single pill out of every bottle. You know how I always have them sitting out on the bathroom counter? The bottles are all knocked over, empty. You don’t guess … ?”

  “Damn.” Truely hung up the phone and took off after Arnold. He felt the flutter of danger — like something swooping down on him. “Arnold,” he shou
ted. “Wait.” He ran through the front doors of the building, the doors clanging behind him. Arnold was nowhere in sight. A cluster of subdued people waited at the elevator, so Truely took the stairs, trying to bound them two at a time. “Arnold,” he shouted again. “Arnold, hold up.” Upstairs he could hear the stairwell door slam.

  By the time he had made his way to the fifth floor Truely was winded and gasping. He ran down the hall toward Gordo’s room, where angry shouts erupted. It sounded like Arnold and Gordo were going at each other. He recognized Jerry’s voice too. “What the hell did you do? You goddamn punk!”

  Inside Gordo’s room he saw Arnold at Gordo’s bedside, struggling to pry a fistful of pills from his determined grip. Gordo was fighting him hard, struggling to stuff the handful of pills into his mouth. Spilled on the bedcovers were more pills, some of which rolled to the floor and bounced in all directions.

  “You little bastard.” Jerry took an unsteady leap and pounced on Arnold, slugging him in the face and then on the side of his head, again, again. Arnold tried to cover his face with one arm while still struggling with Gordo, but Jerry was pounding him in such a drunken frenzy that he was forced to let go.

  Gordo responded by letting out a primal scream unlike anything Truely had ever heard. It was not a cry of fear. It was not sadness or resignation. It was a warrior cry — fueled by rage. If designed to strike terror in the heart of an enemy — it succeeded. The hair on Truely’s neck stood on end.

  Arnold was clearly afraid to hit Jerry back. He was bent over, covering his head with his arms and just letting Jerry use him for a punching bag. It turned Truely’s stomach seeing the old guy pound on Arnold that way, especially when Arnold was refusing to hit back. It was like Jerry had been waiting for this moment all his life, the chance to pummel Arnold or Truely — or somebody. And maybe Truely had been waiting too. “Let go,” he snarled. “He’s a kid. He’s just a damn kid.” Before Truely could think or reconsider he crossed the room and swung his fist at Jerry’s bloodshot face, hit him in the jaw as hard as he could. He felt the bone snap. He heard the sickening sound. He had busted the old man’s jawbone. Jerry shouted in pain and clutched his face and appeared ready to collapse. Truely barely caught him before he hit the floor.