Three Days Before the Shooting ... (148 page)

“Well I’ll be,” Hickman began and broke off with a chuckle. “But Janey, this is the U.S.A., and most folks believe in its do-it-yourself tradition.”

“Maybe so, but in this case it was more like a bunch of stupid lambs being led to slaughter. Because a heap shelled out their hard-earned money to be in it, and after that boy and his friends grabbed all they could they left town. But not before he got my young friend into trouble….”

“But how can you be so sure that he was responsible?”

“Because I could see it coming and tried to warn her, that’s why. But by then he’d got her so excited that she wouldn’t listen, and she was too green to know what was happening. Even greener than me when
you
came along….”

“… But not as sensible and virtuous, is that it?”

“I hear you talking but it’s the truth. So she got caught, and by the time the baby came he was long gone. She told me that he came back shortly before it was born, but then he took off again. And as far as I know he was never seen around here again.”

“And you’re sure that he’d been the boy in the coffin? That he was responsible?”

“Yes! Because she
told me
and she didn’t lie.”

“And did you think it was my boy simply because this fellow Prophet reminded you of me? Think about it now, because when you saw him with me he was not only a youngster, he looked white….”

Tensing, Janey leaned forward.

“Oh, he was the one! He had your mark all over him! And what’s more, with most folks thinking he was white he insisted he was black. And there I believed him, because he had your walk and way of talking and carried himself as much like you as someone who looked white ever could! Oh, yes! He was the one in the coffin all right. Your mark, your style, was all
over
him! And that’s why his doing what he did to my young friend upset me all the more. Until that fast-talking floater showed up Lavatrice was a
good
girl. She didn’t play around. Yes, and I’ll
say it: She was a virgin! Then he and those other two showed up and got folks crazy over playing in that movie. Some of the younger women went plumb out of their minds over his looks and manners and his way with words. And Lava-trice worst of all. And after he got the poor girl big-eyed by giving her a leading part in that movie he left her waddling around with a great big belly.”

“But Janey,” Hickman said, “a lot of what you’re telling me has to be guesswork. I don’t mean about the girl, because whoever was responsible, what happened was terrible. Terrible for the girl and a disgrace for her family. But I still can’t understand why you didn’t mention her or this Prophet in your letter.”

“It was because she’s dead and I felt that it was enough for you to know that he’d been through here again, that’s why….”

“But wait! Janey, you’ve got me confused again—I thought you said that he left here years ago and had never been back! So what’s the connection between what you’re telling me now and what you wrote?”

“Alonzo, it’s a matter of chickens coming home to
roost
! I’d seen the signs, but after he ran away and you couldn’t find him I felt that you’d suffered enough. So why should I tell you what he’d done—especially about the baby—and make it worse?”

“But Janey, you’re not making sense! Why would he come back here when he knew what …”

“… Not
him
, Alonzo; I’m talking about the
baby!
About the
child
he had by Lavatrice!
He’s
the one who came back.
He’s
the one who’s been asking all the questions. Don’t you see?”

“You’re not making it easy,” Hickman said, “but I think I’m beginning to see the pattern. First the father arrived, ate some forbidden fruit, and disappeared. And now you’re telling me that the son has turned up with his teeth on edge—is that it? But where had the son been? And since he’d lived here with you, why wouldn’t you know him?”

Clasping her hands and resting her forearms on her knees, Janey leaned forward.

“Wait, Alonzo,” she said, “let me go back and start all over:

“This mess that I’m getting at began years ago; then, after I thought it had quieted down and been long forgotten, it ups and starts stirring again. I didn’t realize what was happening until a few days ago when I came home and found Cliofus sitting on the front porch talking with a white man. I had come up the alley and through the backdoor, and when I heard them talking I eased up here and took a peek at him. At first I thought he was one of these young white professors from the university who’ve taken to coming out here wanting us old-timers to talk about the early days so they can record it. So I said to myself, ‘Not today, young man. I’ve got no time for your questions.’ Then I tiptoed on back to the kitchen and started blanching some tomatoes.

“But a little later I could hear Cliofus talking a mile a minute like he does
when he gets excited. So not wanting to have him getting sick on my hands, I eased back up here to find out what was happening. That’s when he saw me looking through the screen and said, ‘Miss Janey, are you just going to stand there?
Behold
this man! Take a good look at him!’ And before I know what’s happening this white man has opened the screen and he’s hugging me!
Me
, who’d never been hugged by a white man in all my born days!

“Well, Alonzo, with that I turned cold. And although something inside me seemed to recognize the man my mind said NO! IT CAN’T BE! But when I pushed him away he still held on to my arms, so all I could do was stare and try to see if one of my little men was hidden in his blue eyes and white skin. I was trying so hard, so awfully hard, and while this is happening Cliofus speaks up and names him.

“‘Miss Janey, it’s
Severen,’he
says. ‘It’s our little ole Severen!’

“And I thought, Yes, it could be. But although a part of me was trying to accept him as one of mine, as one of my lost little loved ones, it had been far too long ago and I was much too unprepared….”

“Just take your time,” Hickman said. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Why don’t you rest a spell?”

“No, I’ll be all right, and it’s a relief to relive it in words…. So there we stood,

and although the weather was hot I was ice-box
cold!
I wanted him to go away, to vanish. And while he’s standing there smiling with tears in his eyes something deep inside me was waiting to hear him cough and see smoke curling around his head and into my own eyes and lungs. But he was still holding on to me, still smiling. Yes, that’s how it was, and I thought, No, this can’t be, it’s not him—no! He wouldn’t come back all this way, not without a warning. No, it’s impossible. Because he wouldn’t have the memory, the desire, or the forgiveness to find his way back. Just as I can’t and won’t and can never receive him, or have him back … no….

“Then Cliofus said, ‘Gee, Miss Janey, I guess it’s too much of a surprise for you. So come on, Sevie, let’s get her in the house so she can get her bearings.’ And that’s when the two of them helped me inside.

“So then we were inside here with me fumbling into my old rocker and looking at him and trying to accept the fact that I
did
remember him and that all I had done years ago was falling apart right here before my very eyes. That across all that long time and distance and his change in circumstance he had kept me, kept us, in his mind. And worst of all, in his heart. That was the terrible part….”

“… But why?”

“Why? Did you say WHY?”

“Why, yes, was that unreasonable?”

“Alonzo, how can you sit there and ask me that? Haven’t you understood anything I’ve been telling you? Because he was WHITE! And had been white for
years!
White for so long that as I stared at him it came over me that maybe by
coming back he was just being white-folks cruel, and his way of letting me know that he had risen above all those smoking smoldering coals I’d used in my attempt to destroy those family ties which by now should have been long dead and forgotten. It was like he was getting down on his knees just so he could rise above us…. Like he was bragging to Cliofus and me about his charity and forgiveness.

So I said to myself, No, it simply cannot be!

“But there he was, a grown white man smiling at me through his tears while my body was turning to dust and my clothes into sackcloth and ashes. And then my eyes blurred and I couldn’t see him, both from my tears and my mind rejecting what I couldn’t bear to remember….”

“But why were you resisting what should have been a happy reunion for all of you?”

“Because I simply couldn’t bear having that dear little boy who I had known and loved turn into this grown white man who was claiming to be both himself and that child! Because even though my eyes were blurry I could still smell his smell and hear his emotion, and sense his need as he talked to me. But for all my straining I simply couldn’t hear anything in his Northern white folks’ educated voice that sounded like the child I had known and loved. Do you understand? I couldn’t even
hear him!”

“But, Janey, he had come …”

“… Back! Yes, he had! Yes! Against all the pain that my plan had cost us, and against everything I had done to see to it that he wouldn’t even think of it or want it, he had to come back!”

“Janey,” Hickman said, “you’re leaving something out….”

“I know, I know, and it’s not doing a bit of good. So now in order for you to understand you’ll have to listen to a terrible confession. And if you do you’ll have to remember some of the things which that cross on your watch chain stands for and try to understand my position … my condition. And maybe then you will remember what the spiritual says about a man like you: That he shall lead his flock like a shepherd and shelter the young lambs in his bosom…. Yes,

and remember too that when there are orphans and no man to help her a woman has to take over and do whatever she can to be not only motherly, but also as fatherly as a woman can manage—which is what so many of our women have always had to do, and which is what I tried in my mistaken way to do.”

“All right,” Hickman said, “I remember and I’m willing. But since I know so little, why don’t you explain why you didn’t write me about this girl … about his mother?”

“It was because I felt that it was enough to warn you that old bones were being stirred. And I felt that when he, the father, first ran away and you had tried so hard and couldn’t find him, you’d suffered enough. So years later why tell you what he’d done out here? And especially about the child—which would have made it still worse.”

“But since we’re friends, why didn’t you let
me
be the judge of that?”

Sighing, Janey shook her head. “Oh, Alonzo, hadn’t I already caused you enough misery? It wasn’t that I didn’t
think
about telling you, but what good would it have done? Could you have brought the child’s mother back from the dead? Could you have made the father come back here and own up to his child?”

“But I would have
tried
. I would have done something for the girl and the baby….”

“Yes, but we weren’t seeing each other during the time it was happening. And you couldn’t catch up with the one who ruined her, even though you were trying. And since he must have known what happened, that she had killed herself, he probably would have figured that if he turned up out here again somebody would have cut his throat for him just as she cut her own….”

Feeling suddenly numb, Hickman leaned forward, gazing into Janey’s tear-wet face.

“When did all this happen?”

“Back in the twenties; the early twenties….”

“And you mean to tell me that for all those years you let me come in here and play with that white-looking child and wouldn’t tell me who his daddy was … I can’t believe it….”

“No, Alonzo, I didn’t. But I would have; I was always prepared to tell you, and that’s the truth. All you had to do was ask. That’s all you had to do. Every time you came—and remember it wasn’t often in those days—I was just waiting for you to look at that child and say something about his resemblance to the other one when he was about the same age. And if you had I was prepared to tell you. But you didn’t, and therefore I decided to just let the dry bones rest while nature took its course.”

“Well, you did, but now it’s
human
nature we have to deal with…. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t want you to know what that boy had done….”

“You were protecting
me?”

“Yes, I guess I was. But I also remembered your saying something about what ought to be done to white men who ruin colored girls, and hearing that I was tempted to tell you then—just to hear what you’d say when you found out that it was him who had done it, that he was the child’s father. I wanted to hear what you’d have to say if the man only
looked
white, or if it was a case in which no one knew or cared whether he was white, black, or in between. But then I asked myself why should I hurt you some more. At the time you were very upset about something that happened back in Georgia, so why add something that nothing could be done about? Besides, I felt that it might have turned you against the baby, and I didn’t want that to happen.

“Anyway, and no matter how this thing turns out, you have to understand that I loved that baby. I loved him just as you loved his no-good father. I loved him
and looked after him as I would one of my own. And as far as I knew at the time his father could have been dead, or turned into a hobo like some of these old pudding-headed white men who’re always knocking on the back door asking for something to eat. That’s right! As far as I knew he could have been like one of them who’ll beg a colored woman for something to eat and then be too white-folks proud to come in and sit down and eat it like a decent human being….”

“I thought that kind of thing—hoboing, I mean—stopped with the war. Is it still going on?”

“Not like back then, but it still happens.”

“And are you still charitable?”

“Now, don’t you go starting in on me, A.Z.! Yes, I am. My religion teaches me to help the poor and the needy, and I do. They’re always welcome to share whatever I have. But you might as well know that I won’t feed them unless they have the decency to recognize themselves as my guests. It’s simply a matter of sharing whatever the good Lord put here in this house to be shared. But as dirty and down-and-out as most of them are, some are just too prejudiced. Not all, because some have enough decency to respect me as a sharer and have been known to come back for more. That’s all I ask, but although I’m ashamed to admit it, whenever one comes knocking with his hand out and then refuses to come in and sit down like he’s been taught good manners, I think about that child’s father and it fairly ruins my day.”