A Drop of Patience

by William Melvin Kelley

  They walked home arm in arm and, as quietly as possible, let themselves into the house. At the foot of the steps they stood, whispering. “I’m glad you come by, Etta-Sue.” He tried to sound sincere. “But I hope you don’t get in no trouble.”

  “It about time I did, don’t you think?”

  He wondered how she meant that. “I don’t know. I mean, trouble with your mama is always bad trouble.” He had been trying all the way home to think of some way to ease her upstairs almost without her knowing it, but now decided he would bring it into the open, though he would disguise his intentions. “Look, Etta-Sue, if you don’t want to go right to sleep, we can have a nightcap.” He did not make it sound serious. “I got a bottle in my room. I can go upstairs and bring it down if you want.”

  “You got a bottle in your room?” She giggled. “Ooo-eee! If Mama only knew that.”

  “You won’t tell her, will you?” He knew already she would not. In her mind, she and Ludlow were allied against her mother.

  “No. Yes, I’d like that. I had too much fun tonight just to go to sleep. Come on, we’ll sneak up.”

  “You sure you want to come up? I mean, your mama might get real—”

  “Hell with Mama!”

  They climbed squeaking stairs to his room. Ludlow wondered what she expected to happen in his room—a friendly drink, or more. She went in ahead of him. “Where’s the light, Ludlow?”

  He did not know, had never used it. “Maybe it by the door.”

  “I found it.” She sounded happy.

  He closed the door, put his case and cane on the bed. “That bottle’s in the dresser.” He walked to it, opened the bottom drawer, pushed aside some shirts, produced the bottle, and shook it to find out how much remained. He did not drink a great deal and, though he had bought it three weeks before, it was still over three-quarters full. “We can have ourselves a nice little party.” He waited to discover how that would go over. She remained silent.

  Then: “You don’t think Mama heard, do you? She probably laying wait for me.”

  “She didn’t hear nothing except maybe just me going up to my room. If she awake, which she ain’t, she probably thinks you still out.” He could not let her get frightened now.

  She walked to the bed and sat down heavily, jangling the springs.

  He had to get her mind off her mother. “You have a good time tonight?”

  “Oh yes! Everybody was so nice.” Her joy lasted only a second.

  He found two glasses on top of the dresser and poured the drinks, guiding the neck of the bottle with his fingers, then came to the bed, extending her glass. “Here’s hoping you always have good times.”

  She did not reply, only swallowed, gasping.

  “You worried, Etta-Sue?” This was going very badly. He was certain that if now he made a move toward her she would run. “Come on. Don’t worry.”

  Still there was silence.

  “Did I do something?” He tried everything.

  “No. You been wonderful.” She did not go on; her voice was tightening, a bad sign.

  He came closer to the bed and squatted in front of her. “Come on, don’t worry. It’ll be all right tomorrow between you and your mama.” To himself he cursed her mother now.

  There was another silence. He waited for her to speak, listening to her breathing. She sighed finally; the bedsprings crackled as she shifted. Then she kissed him. He was stunned, had not at all been expecting it, did not understand why she had done it at that moment or, indeed, at all. Taking advantage of his opportunity, he kissed her, thinking that surely this was what he had wanted, had worked for. He realized too that during that last long silence she must have been deciding to kiss him.

  He put down his glass, took hers and put it on the floor, grabbed her shoulders and kissed her again. She opened her mouth. He ran his hands down her arms, which were bare, jumped his hands to her sides, ribs, then placed his thumbs on her breasts, which were bigger, heavier than he had imagined—like Malveen’s, but much harder. The nipples were flattened like cloth-covered buttons under a tight-fitting bra and a cotton dress.

  He ended the kiss and she sighed his name. This was the only word she spoke as he undressed her, found the light, clicked it, came back to her, kissed her breasts, put his cane and case on the floor, pulled down the bedspread, helped her under the covers, undressed himself and joined her.

  Her hips and back were broad. Her waist, as she had said, was not small, but she was not as fat as he had imagined from listening to her walk. She was simply big, and very solid.

  Except for her arms, which she wrapped tightly around him, she lay perfectly rigid. He worked over her, trying everything he had learned in the past months, but still she did not move. Finally, just after he pushed inside her, he asked her if she knew, if she could tell him when she was getting close to the end.

  “No.” She was embarrassed. “I never got nowhere near the end.”

  He thought for a second. This was new to him. He would have to tell her exactly what to do, what to expect her body to feel. “It all right, Etta-Sue.” He braced his feet against the footboard and started to move. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you when.”

  4

  HALF AN HOUR LATER, just as he began sliding into a doze, she sat up and clutched his arm. “You don’t think Mama heard, do you?”

  He rolled onto his back, found her breast and cupped it in his hand. “We didn’t make no noise.”

  She turned toward him under his hand, not seeming to notice it. “I mean, heard us come up here?”

  “Then she woulda been up here herself by this time.” He slipped his arm around her, pulled her down and kissed her. “Come on, Etta-Sue, don’t worry.” All this annoyed him. She was already naked, in his bed. It was over now.

  “But if she heard, she’d toss me out—and you too.” She was lying close to him, her body rigid again.

  He stroked her buttocks. Like her entire body, they were solid. “I ain’t worrying.” He wanted to get some sleep now.

  She pushed even closer against him, hugging his waist. “How’d this happen, Ludlow?”

  He tried hard to sound tender and gave her the usual answer. “When two people like each other, they don’t ask how it happen. They just enjoy liking each other. What you getting all upset about? Didn’t you like it?”

  “Oh, yes.” She squeezed him; she was strong. “I loved it. You so nice to me.”

  “Well, there. That must mean something.” After he had told her what to do, she had worked out fine. Finally he had gotten it just the way he wanted it.

  “I guess it do. But I’m worried about Mama. What time is it? It already getting light.”

  “There’s a clock on the table.” He sighed, yawned.

  “Oh God! It quarter past six.” She sat up again and, before he could catch her, was out of bed and dressing.

  He decided not to stop her. She was getting on his nerves. “Don’t go, Etta-Sue.”

  She bumped to her knees, must have been searching for something. Her voice, muffled, came from under the bed. “I got to get downstairs in my own bed. Mama wakes up around seven.” She stood up.

  He nodded. “I guess you right, but I don’t like it.”

  She was dressed and out of his room in two more minutes, pausing only an instant to bend and kiss him.

  He listened, but there was no sound from the stairs. He got up, opened the door and waited, listening, for five minutes. She must have made it safely. He nodded and smiled. As long as he was careful, this good situation would continue. He fell asleep, as proud of himself as he had ever been.

  * * *

  —

  SHE WAS BACK in his room at two that afternoon, crying. “She called me all kinds of names and asked me where I been.” Crying made her voice even higher, and a bit hoarse and she sounded as if someone wa
s sticking one very sharp needle into the small of her back.

  He had not realized there would be so many complications. He had never imagined that any girl would suffer such anguish over something so simple. “What you tell her?”

  “That first I went to hear you and then I walked around, thinking. I said you wanted to bring me home but I just wanted to walk.” She was sitting on his bed, crying. He was beside her, trying not to reach for her breast. She was not ready for that yet.

  “She believe you?”

  Her voice was small. “I think so.”

  “Well, then, don’t worry.” He put his arm around her shoulder. She did not move. “You sorry about last night?”

  “Oh no. You was so nice to me.” She leaned against him, but in a second pulled away and straightened up again. “But Mama was so mad.”

  He had not realized parents could be so much trouble. He could barely remember his own, and all of the people at Boone’s had long since left theirs behind them. He turned to her and grabbed her shoulders. “Nice as your mama is, you grown now and got to live your own life. You can’t let her tell you how to live.” He hoped she would accept this; it would be too much trouble to go through something like this each time he made love to her.

  “You really like Mama?”

  “Sure I do. She been very nice to me.” This was true. “And you like her too. That your problem. It just that she don’t understand you. She thinks you still a little girl and you ain’t.”

  “No. I ain’t.”

  Now he could kiss her, and did. He wanted her before he went to work, but he had to find out where her mother was. Etta-Sue probably would not have come to his room unless her mother was out, but he had to make certain. “Look, if you want, I’ll talk to your mama for you. She downstairs?” He pretended to start to get up.

  Etta-Sue caught his wrist. “She went shopping.”

  He put his arm around her waist, moved it up just under her breast, and kissed her. “I’ll talk to her when she come back.” He kissed her again, pushed her down onto the bed and crawled on top of her. She put her arms around his neck and opened her legs. He dropped between them. He did not even bother to take off her dress, only her underpants, pulling the dress up around her waist while she arched her back. He pushed his pants down around his ankles. This time he hardly had to tell her what to do.

  Afterward they lay on his bed, her arms around him, his head on her breasts. It was different with her and he liked it, not just because she was different from the other girls he had made love to, but because she made him feel different. The others had not all been prostitutes—only Malveen—but there had been no feeling of permanence with them as there was with Etta-Sue. He remembered, when he had followed Malveen up the stairs to her room that night, that first time, he had wondered how many other men had followed her up those stairs. It was the same with the other girls. He always knew that the next night they might be with another man and that idea saddened him. It had been great fun at the beginning, but later it had become a chore. With Etta-Sue he knew he would be the only one for as long as he wanted her.

  “You hungry, Ludlow?” She rubbed her hands over his back.

  “A little.” He smiled. This kind of concern was a luxury.

  “I’ll fix you something to eat if you want.” She kissed the top of his head. She was really quite nice. He liked her.

  “Okay.” He got to his knees, kissed her and stood up.

  “Where’d you put my underpants?”

  “I don’t know.” He smiled. “Maybe they under you.”

  She giggled. “I got them.” They rolled up her legs, snapping like rubber bands. “You can’t walk around without no underpants.” She was joking and it pleased him.

  She asked to use his comb and brush, received permission, and when she was ready they went down to the kitchen. He sat at the table as she scurried around the room, preparing something for him. “I like fixing things for you.”

  “I’m glad.” For some reason he felt suddenly uneasy, but dismissed it, deciding it was simply that any moment her mother would appear and they would have to pretend they hardly knew each other. He had done a good deal of lying to get things he wanted, but lying about things he already possessed was new to him, and somehow worse.

  She brought some sandwiches to the table and sat across from him, remaining silent for a time. Then: “I want to tell you something.”

  He spoke through a mouth stuffed with tuna fish, bread, lettuce, and mayonnaise. “Sure, go on.”

  “It about the boy I was planning to marry.” She stopped, as if expecting him to speak. He did not want to know about the other men in her life, and wondered why she wanted to tell him anyway. It was none of his business.

  Finally she went on. “Not about why we broke up or anything, but about, you know, being close with him.”

  At first he did not understand her, but as she continued, it became clear what she was talking about.

  “I only done it with him, only him.”

  He finished the sandwiches and rested his hands on the table. First her fingers touched his, then, timidly, as if expecting to be slapped, her hand crept over his.

  “And I only done it with him seven times.”

  This was ridiculous. No girl he knew kept count, except the prostitutes and with them it was a matter of money.

  She squeezed his hand. “I just want you to know that.”

  He nodded, not knowing what to say, what she wanted him to say.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” She sounded just the slightest bit desperate.

  “Sure, Etta-Sue. It all right.”

  Far away, the lock on the front door clicked. Etta-Sue jumped, pulling her hand away; she leaned close, speaking in a terrified whisper. “It Mama. She home.”

  “I know.” He remembered he had promised to speak to her mother. “Don’t worry.”

  Etta-Sue stood up and rushed to the stove.

  Missus Scott’s footsteps, more tired and heavy than usual, came down the hallway. “That you, Etta-Sue?”

  “Yes, Mama.” Her voice shook.

  The footsteps reached the doorsill. “How do, Missus Scott.” Ludlow smiled and turned toward the door.

  “Ludlow.” She did not like him at all today.

  It was best that he start talking immediately. “Hey, listen, Missus Scott, I come down to tell you about last night. I mean, Boone’s a rough place, but nobody bothers the musicians’ friends. Etta-Sue was feeling sad and I was talking to her and said for her to come on over. I didn’t know you’d mind if she was with me.” He stopped, wanting to know just how angry she was.

  He followed her footsteps into the kitchen, to the counter, where heavy wrapping paper crackled. Then the chair where Etta-Sue had been sitting scraped back from the table and bumped forward again. “I just don’t want her in places like that, Ludlow. It ain’t fitting.”

  “Sure, Missus Scott, I understand you. But she was with me and I figured—”

  “Why didn’t you bring her on home?”

  “You raised her decent, Missus Scott, so you don’t got to worry. She just wanted to be alone. I mean, she didn’t run off or nothing. She come home. But I know sometimes when I got to think things out I walk around. I mean, she told me you had a fight and that ain’t good. And she just wanted to cool down a little bit. She wasn’t doing nothing bad.” That ought to have been good enough, but he had to wait.

  “And nothing happened?” She was suspicious.

  “Not a thing, Missus Scott. She sat with my friend’s girl and listened, was all. And we talked when I wasn’t playing.”

  Missus Scott fell silent. Ludlow was fairly certain now he had succeeded in calming her.

  “Was you really so troubled, honey?” Missus Scott’s voice had become quite tender.

  “Yes, Mama.”
She paused. “I don’t like to fight with you. It just that sometime you don’t understand I’m grown now and got to live my own life.”

  Ludlow almost burst out laughing; she had paraphrased him almost exactly.

  “Maybe you right, honey.” Missus Scott was sad, but only for a second. “But now we know it and it’ll be all right.”

  Etta-Sue rushed across the room and Ludlow listened to the pop of the kiss she placed on her mother’s cheek. It made him feel odd, lonely. He had never known this kind of love.

  “Mama? Mama, since Ludlow made everything all right can’t we celebrate and have him to dinner?”

  “That a good idea.” Missus Scott’s hand took his. “He a good, decent boy.”

  5

  FOR THE NEXT two months it went on. Whenever her mother left the house for an hour or more, Etta-Sue would come to his room and they would make love. Sometimes she would come to Boone’s to listen to him and then they would spend the night together, until she told him the sky was graying and she would have to go down to her own bed. Most nights she would stay at home and meet him in his room when he finished work. She fixed his meals, cleaned his room and saw to it his clothes were sent to the laundry. Ludlow basked in her attentions. He had never realized that devoting all his energy to one girl could pay off so well. He rushed home to her, leaving Hardie with various extra girls on his hands until the trombone player no longer bothered to arrange things for him.

  If Missus Scott knew there was anything between Etta-Sue and Ludlow, she gave no hint. She was happy that her daughter seemed content at home and did not care why.