Wild Stars Seeking Midnight Suns (17 page)

The events of the party were roiling around in my brain that morning as I consulted with the patients who needed psychiatric referrals and gave a few shots and brochures out. Then one of the men who had been at the party came in. I recognized him! He talked to one of the nurses.

He had had a bout with his guilty conscience and had come in to tell about the party he had attended. Because he had an STD, gonorrhea, and had been pretty busy at the party, AND didn’t want the people, his friends (?), to not know what they probably had, and spread it around. Now! Soon there was a lot of “to do” in the clinic, which ended with two of the social workers leaving. Then . . . I’ll tell you what I think happened.

The party people went home, showered, and were sleeping it all off. At about ten o’clock that morning someone rang bells, or knocked on doors, awakening the sleepers and their spouses or whatever. The caller was someone from the city’s health department to explain to them what had happened. They were to report, immediately, to the clinic for examination and treatment and report.

They had to get up and go report in. Right now! My, my.

Everyone at the orgy, whose address the health department could find right away, met again. Far sooner than they would have wanted. They had thought their night was over, but that night was going to last a long time, chile.

One man and one woman had even gone home and “made love” (?) to their spouses, or whatever. Perhaps because the orgy had not satisfied them? It was a chaotic mess.

Well . . . the party really was over. Even a few church members had to come in. I reflected that their minister did not really preach good enough. He tickled their ears; he didn’t slap their minds with the truth. And some self-respect. Sometimes you don’t have to wait to go to hell to pay for your sins. You can pay for some right here on earth!

They skulked in, heads lowered into the collars of their coats.

They all sat on the bare wooden benches against the army green walls, and looked up, looked down, looked across, looked just anywhere, but in someone’s face and eyes. They were ashamed, disgusted, and embarrassed. Everyone was remembering when somebody’s legs were back over their shoulders; when somebody’s head had bobbed between their thighs, male and female, and where their own head had been. I would bet they all wondered who had had the disease and cursed the person, soundly, in their minds.

And! With all the blood tests and slides, three people in the group had herpes, one had gonorrhea, and one had syphilis!! And they still had to wait for the results of the HIV tests. They sure couldn’t be taking care of themselves! And they didn’t even look like the kind of people you would think had all these problems! But, what kind of people go to such a party anyway?

I may stay celibate the rest of my life. But, I hope not; I want a husband. My own man.

Finally they were through with the whole process and were leaving with their next appointments made already. They left the clinic, rushing swiftly to their cars, and drove away. Hurrying someplace where there were no eyes to see them. Some to sleep. Some to argue and fight, I bet.

Yeah, the party was over. Some friendships were gone. My cousin Lucy said it took a long, long time for some of them to go back to the club again.

But those are not all the important things. Even now, some people did not think of the party as a cunning, ruthless, hypocritical, lying thing to do. I think there were a few young, and yeah, innocent women and men there, that hadn’t come there with nothing on their minds but dancing. There are still some innocent people in this world. Very few. But that party, a kind of drugged-up mess, is one of the reasons why I’m proud my cousin did not stay for the “after-party.”

That “Soul” people love to say they have can get messed up if you don’t think about which world you want to live in, and who rules it. You can degrade your own dignity, and respect may be gone. Forever. You get one life. Whose hands you put your life in and how you use it up is important. God said so. Satan is alive and well! And if your minister ain’t tellin you something real, they ain’t tellin you nothing!

Anyway the party is over.

I know you want me to hush. I will.

But my mama told me I better always try to know what is going on in my life. I told you, I listen to my mama.

I watch, I listen. And I talk. I tell it all, chile!

Catch a Falling Heart

When anybody is born, at that minute, that’s the last step you get in life that was known and expected. No one ever knows what the next step is going to be. You can hope, but you can’t know. Things start happening to some people before they are even able to think and make choices for theirself. Later, when they’re older, some people don’t even know they have choices so they just go any which way life casts them. Takes thinking, and it don’t look like there is too much thinking around. I feel dumb myself, sometimes; a lot.

Sometimes you are handed a plate of life and, if you are poor, there ain’t too many good choices on the plate. Some things look good, but they ain’t. And some choices are hidden under something else on that plate.

People think rich people don’t have to worry, that their life is taken care of, but that ain’t true. Cause life ain’t worth living if you don’t have something valuable in it, besides money, for your spirit. That’s why some people be rich and miserable as any other fool who thinks more money will make their life better. It won’t. Money don’t feed the spirit. Money may buy you a little lust; what you get for greed, sometimes, or envy. But money won’t buy you love. Money may fill your eyes and your hands, but it won’t fill your heart and spirit.

Rich people commit suicide, too. Like any other miserable person.

These kids committing suicide today? This world is feeding them poo-poo and telling em it’s good for em. That it’s all they need. But it don’t feed their spirit. Their spirit grieves.

All this dope millions of people take today? What they trying to get? Where they trying to go? Out of emptiness into emptiness.

Another thing, plenty people spend millions and millions of dollars, and their whole life, trying to prove to people that God does not exist. They’re lying. And, why would they spend their life, and their money, trying to help you? Keep you from believing in God? Why they want you to starve your spirit?

God feeds the spirit. Love feeds the spirit. Your spirit feeds your life. There ain’t too much of God and Love in this world. I don’t care how many people are lying about it. Takes thinking to live life. Thinking.

Well, that’s enough of that because I’m not a preacher.

What I was telling you about things being on your plate of life when you are born is what I was thinking about this morning. Thinking about a woman in this town I have known since she was a child, Harriet.

This ain’t no big town, but it don’t have to be. Things happen here just like they do everywhere else in the world cause people is people, don’t care what color they are or where they are born. We got a body of water here, piece of the ocean, that brings a lot of port business and sea-people. A whole lot of business goes on in this place. All kinds.

I don’t live far from the busy section of the coast and right down the street from me is a rooming house that stands for the Oceanview Hotel. Long ago, when this was just a middlin-poor section of town, that “hotel” used to belong to my husband’s friends, Jefferson and Matilda Long.

Jefferson owned it. He was a sailor when he won the rooming house at the gambling table. He was not too clean, with a real dirty mouth. He was old by the time they married. Matilda was bout the only one who would marry him. Matilda was from a real, real, poor, poor family and wasn’t too good-lookin herself. That’s probably why she married him; wasn’t much on her plate, you see.

They staggered into each other one night at the Water’s End Bar, got happy, and got married. That old man could still make babies, though. I really believe they was his. She was so happy to be married and be taken care of, even if she had to do all the work. I don’t believe she cheated on him. They had two children, Harriet and Star. Fine girls, when they was born.

Some years passed and he died first, cirrhosis of the liver. Scared Matilda and she didn’t go over there, to the bar, to drink so regular. She stayed home and ran the business and took care of her children. She was a good mother for a long time.

The hotel was a good business because it sits right across the street from the Water’s End Bar. Young and old, seamen, businessmen, prostitutes, and some ladies and a preacher or two went there. People staggering out late at night came straight across the street to get a room. So it was a good business.

Ships always coming in or going out. My husband used to go to the Water’s End Bar. Sometimes I’d go with him because I like to see things, watch people, and look at life going on around me. The bar stayed busy. They hated to have to close sometimes, but they did have to.

Them girls, Harriet and Star, were nice-looking girls, but Star was the best looking when they were young. And fast, she was the spoiled baby. When they got older, in their teens, Harriet was the best looking. She was also sweet, which I think made her pretty. Star was arrogant and mean and selfish. She didn’t like to do her share of work either.

You know, it ain’t too many pretty people in this world, that’s why them people who make face-paint make so much money. People can make a new face for themself. A new one every day, do they want to.

Anyway, while the girls were in their teens, Harriet was fooling around up on the garage one day, and fell off. That fall messed with her back and she still can’t stand up straight no more ever. And something in her nervous system causes her body to shake real hard whenever she gets excited or angry, otherwise she is fine. Still, she is the naturally prettiest one, such as she is. Star is pretty with that paint working for her.

The years passed and Matilda forgot about her husband, Jefferson, dying from the liver trouble. Her memories of “good times” and loneliness got the best of her mind. She thought her plate was empty. She slowly began moseying cross that street again. To the Water’s End Bar. She forgot about the full plate right there within her business and her children. It wasn’t too long before the liquor ate up the rest of that poor woman’s body and, then her plate really was empty.

But Matilda had taught the girls well, and had even put a little money by. In the months following her funeral Harriet had to take over the business. It just naturally fell to her. She had dropped out of school earlier because of her accident. She didn’t like to take a chance on shaking in front of everybody, but, still, she was smart.

Harriet didn’t like to go out of her hotel-home for nothing. But Star was always gone. So, naturally, Harriet finally was the one who did all the paperwork and everything else. Star treated Harriet like she was her employee or an old woman without no possibility for a life.

Harriet hired a lady, Ms. Poker, to change the beds, see to the clean linen, and vacumn every week. She kept the business working for the money they both needed. That house wasn’t making no fortune cause they couldn’t charge much. What it mostly was to people was a quick convenience.

Star couldn’t do any work, for long, sitting at that desk that sat in the front window looking directly at the Water’s End Bar. She loved watching all the goings-on round the bar; looking and laughing at the people. She would tell Harriet, “Pay somebody to watch this ole piece of junk! I ain’t got time to do this mess! I’m too young to be stuck inside this place all the time! I ain’t dead and I ain’t shaking round ugly all the time.” Star loved Harriet, but in her own selfish way.

But Star would put her hand in the till and take what money she needed when she needed it. She always found some there. So.

Ms. Poker watched the young women a while as she did her own thinking. Soon she stopped Star, a little, without her knowing it. Ms. Poker took a old cigar box and, every time she passed through the office with her dustin rags, she took half the money out of the cash register whenever she knew some money was there. She would put it away until she could give it to Harriet later. She thought to herself, “I got to see that she got money to pay me, cause I need my money.” Harriet was grateful because she thought she shouldn’t treat her sister, Star, that way. Huh!

The most money came from renting the three rooms set aside for prostitutes for twenty minutes at a time. A few rooms were rented to a couple of old-timers on a steady basis. The rest were rented to sailors who were unable to make it back to the ship. Very seldom, if ever, did the townspeople rent a room.

Another thing Harriet had learned in school was how to sew. So that filled in some of her time. In the beginning she had planned to make pretty clothes for herself, but she began to make dresses for the townspeople and mend pants and things for the men. She would sit in the front window to sew. It broke the monotony. Always in that window, she could look out, seeing who was coming and going at that bar.

It’s pretty busy, if you know waterfront life. These people love to drink and party like tomorrow may not be coming. She used to see her mother over there, but now she saw Star. I’m talking years.

I used to go over there to that bar, more when my husband was alive than I ever would go now. I notice that no matter how long, no matter who has done gone and ain’t coming back, and whoever is new and just started coming, they all look alike. The new women begin to look like the ones who left. They all laugh all the time, same empty loud laughter. They mostly all need to see a dentist. And after a while they don’t look healthy. Maybe it’s just me, but that’s what I think. All that darkness and smoke and lying just steal into your skin.

Star, too! I told you she could make herself pretty. When she was younger you’d see her round, pretty face in there tween them grey, homely, and used ones. She became a regular regular. Oh, it takes a little time, just like age, but every day something’s happening, changing you. Course, you throw some alcohol on top of that, cheap or expensive, it happens faster.

Over the years, yes, years, it happened to Star. Bar too close. She couldn’t come out of her house without that bar beckoning to her. She would run in for a few minutes and stay a few hours. Too many men talkin sweet to her. Telling her lies they had picked up from places all around the world. Some men she got to know was nice, but they mostly belonged to somebody else at home.

Now Harriet looked out that window, too! She saw what looked like fun to her. But she did not dare to let herself out for everyone to really see. She wanted that desk counter to hide her. She’d go to the store or something, shop for material cause she didn’t mind the townspeople, who had known her all her life, seeing her. It was strangers who would never know how she had been when she was young, who bothered her.

Harriet could hear that music blasting and all the revelry going on in that bar at all hours till three or four o’clock in the morning when it closed. She longed, I know!, she yearned to go over there and meet some of them men and make a new friend. Must’a dreamed of how they might fall in love with each other. She wanted to have love. . . . Well, who don’t? with any sense! Love and God is what life is all about. She went to church every Sunday. But she was too scared and shamed to go cross that street to that bar. So, through the years she grew older, watching the bar doors open and close, looking and pretending she might see a man for her own.

Through the years, now and again, Star brought a man home. Well, she was young and pretty. One time one of her loves wanted to marry her and take her away, to home, with him. She thought someone better might be on the next ship, so she stayed, waiting, to see. Then a man might stay with her a day or two, or keep her awhile longer. But she was so selfish and mean, she couldn’t keep a future planned with them.

She thought she had found true love a few times. And was happy, a few times, I guess. I think she gave up a lot for such empty happiness. Life will lie to you! Specially if you already lying to yourself! She was hoeing her row and raking in the wrong garden.

Star was no whore, she didn’t charge a dime. So pretty soon, you know the prostitutes didn’t like her no more for stealing their business. So they took to lying about her, to whatever man she was getting close to, so she couldn’t keep him. Or he didn’t want to keep her. Finally, time came when no one asked her for her little soft, growing ugly, hand in marriage anymore.

Star never did look back over her shoulder and think about her sister being lonely in that house all the time by herself with only Ms. Poker for company. Star never did look around and think about anybody, but herself. She needed that money from the hotel, though. In some clear moments, she thought about, and bought vitamins for Harriet. To keep her well and working. Harriet already slept well, she and Ms Poker ate well. So Harriet was healthy and strong.

Now . . . I happen to believe every Cinderella has got a Prince somewhere.

I sit on my porch a lot, and watch the world go by myself. I go down there and visit with Harriet when I need a little change of scenery and, also, because I sincerely care about her. Sometimes I have something I want sewn. And I like to talk to her. Most time I just sit at home and read. I belong to a book club.

Over time, one day there was a middle-age man, named Issy Evers, who came to my house for one of my rooms. Almost everybody close to the port will rent a room out now and then. He worked as a cook on one of them ships. Fair-looking man with a few grey hairs mingled with the brown. Must’a been about thirty-nine or forty years old.