The Darkest Child Page 18

  “What about him?” I asked, motioning toward the back seat.

  “Aw, shoot. Melvin Tate? He ain’t nobody.”

  We reached Market Street where there was not another car in sight. It was strange seeing the town at this early hour of the morning. There was a light on inside the train depot, and crates were lined along the platform, but there seemed to be no one in attendance. I glanced back at the depot as the car thumped across the tracks and turned left in the direction of the flats.

  On the back seat, Melvin Tate stirred and pulled himself into a sitting position. He leaned forward across the front seat, placing his head between mine and Crow’s. “Hey, Crow. Man, pull over,” he said. “Let me outta this damn car ’less you want a wet seat.”

  Crow swore but stopped the car, and Melvin stumbled out and staggered around to the rear.

  “See,” Crow said, “I told you he wadn’t nobody.”

  I knew Melvin Tate, and Crow was right.

  “How many babies yo’ mama got now?” Crow asked, glancing about impatiently and turning on his seat to check on Melvin.

  “Ten.”

  “Goddamn, Rozelle been busy. She wouldn’t tell me when I asked her. Said it wadn’t none of my business since they didn’t belong to me. I had to remind her that she had one belonged to me.” He was silent for a moment, then said, “You know what? I oughta leave that nigger out there, but I don’t want it to be my fault if he goes to jail.”

  Melvin returned and managed, with great difficulty, to settle his lanky frame on the back seat. The strong odor of urine followed him inside, and I rolled my window down for fresh air.

  Crow turned on his seat and stared at Melvin. “Man, get outta my car,” he demanded.“You smell like a damn outhouse. Get out!”

  “Come on, man,” Melvin pleaded.

  “Come on, hell. Get out my car, Melvin. If you wadn’t so drunk, you could see yo’ house from here. Get out!”

  Reluctantly, Melvin crawled from the back seat, and Crow pulled away, leaving him staring after us. Crow turned onto Motten Street and stopped the car.

  “I gotta make sho’ he gets home,” Crow said.“That’s his house right up the street there.”

  I glanced up the street at the row of darkened houses which were identical in structure. A few had enclosed porches, but they all had four wooden steps that practically kissed the sidewalk, and saddle lawns that were mostly well kept. I knew where the Tates lived. I knew who lived in every house on Motten Street, including Skeeter’s. Somewhere in the darkness of Skeeter’s house was Velman Cooper, a man who was courting my sister and my mother.

  “Do you know Skeeter Richards?” I asked Crow.

  “I know just about everybody in this town,” he answered. “I used to live here.That was years ago.”

  “I’ve never heard of you.”

  “What?” he asked with genuine astonishment. “Rozelle never tol’ you nothing ’bout me. Never tol’ you how I used to sit for hours just holding you and looking down at yo’ face. It’s been some years, but y’all oughta remember me. Who yo’ mama got you thinking yo’ daddy is?”

  I did not answer. I could not tell him about my mother and her secrets because I could not explain something I did not understand.

  Melvin Tate saved me from further interrogation as he staggered around the corner and up to the car, swearing every step of the way.

  “I’m through wit’ you, Crow,” he yelled. “You lowdown dirty mothafucka.” He pounded his fists against the trunk of the car and kicked a rear tire before falling to the ground.

  Crow laughed, then started the car and pulled away from the curb. On the drive back to Penyon Road, he asked again if my mother had ever told me who my daddy was.

  “She never did,” I answered, “but the minute I saw you, I knew it was you.”

  “That’s right. It’s me.”

  He parked in front of our house and pressed two bills against my palm.“Here,” he said.“Buy yo’self something pretty. Something fit for a queen.”

  He waited until I was on the porch, then drove off. Under moonlight I looked at the bills in my hand, a five and a twenty. It was more money than I had ever seen in one place at one time in my entire life.

  In the front room I knelt on hands and knees, and groped around in darkness for my science book. I hid the money between the last page and the back cover, then crawled over to my pallet.

  Tarabelle’s voice startled me.“That big ape do you?” she asked.

  “Do what? That big ape is my daddy,” I said, then I stretched out and tumbled into sleep, spending my riches as I went.

  twenty - five

  Mama was euphoric in anticipation of Crow’s next visit. She was sitting at the kitchen table, sucking on a Pall Mall, getting much better at it. Like the rising sun, she set the mood for the day—light and breezy without a storm cloud in sight. She made a grand production of presenting Wallace with five dollars to buy a pair of shoes. She promised Laura and Edna a trip to Logan’s store, and she clapped her hands delightedly when Tarabelle told her that Miss Arlisa was expecting a baby.

  “Ain’t that funny,” she beamed.“Me, too.”

  Tarabelle glanced at me, and I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Mama,” Sam said, “I thought you said you couldn’t have no mo’. Didn’t you tell Mushy you couldn’t have no mo’?”

  “You see, that’s just it, Sam,” she said. “That’s why I ain’t never put no stock in no doctor. Half the time they don’t know what they talking ’bout.”

  “Well . . .” Sam said, and we waited for him to complete his sentence, but nothing more followed. He was at a loss for words, and so was I.

  “I think I’m gon’ have me a boy,” Mama informed us. “Wit’ Harvey gone, we need another boy ’round here.” She talked on and on, her lips moving through clouds of cigarette smoke, while we sent messages to each other with our eyes.

  Tarabelle went to stand behind our mother’s chair. She signed to Martha Jean, “Mama. Baby.” She cradled her arms, then jabbed her abdomen twice with a finger. Martha Jean glanced down at Judy, then she stared back quizzically at Tarabelle.Tarabelle jabbed her abdomen again, and understanding registered in Martha Jean’s eyes. For a moment, she regarded our mother with somber curiosity, then she rose from the table and left the kitchen with Judy clutched tightly against her chest.

  Mama laughed—such a pleasant sound. She challenged Laura and Edna to come up with a name for the baby.“Two candy bars for the one who come up wit’ the best name,” she said, and Laura and Edna began to toss out names for Mama’s approval. When Mama finally decided on the name, Timothy, she made good on her promise, and took the girls to Logan’s store for candy.

  “I don’t like Mama when she happy like that, ”Wallace said as soon as our mother was gone.

  “I don’t like her, period,” Tarabelle remarked. “How she gon’ have another baby for Martha Jean to take care of? It ain’t fair.”

  “I coulda swo’ she said she couldn’t have no mo’,” Sam commented.

  “She can’t. I just know she can’t,” I said, but I wasn’t really certain. Anything was possible.

  I went outside to take clothes from the line.Thoughts of going to the prom with Jeff Stallings began to overshadow thoughts of my mother. There was nothing I could do about Mama having another baby, or even ten more babies, but there was something I could do about the prom. I’d have to buy a dress, and I was looking forward to that. Maybe, after school on Monday, Mattie would go into town with me to shop.

  The clothes were inside and folded by the time Mama returned from the store with two very happy little girls, a pair of stockings, and a bag of two-for-a-penny candy. In an atmosphere of serenity, I filled my mouth with sweets and listened to my mother sing as she made herself ready for her date with Crow.

  As the hours passed with no sign of Crow, Mama began to make excuses for his delay, saying that maybe he’d had a flat tire or was just running late. She spent the evening watc
hing the road for his car, then she began to berate him, saying he was nothing and nobody, and she didn’t care if he came or not. Finally, seated on a chair on the front porch, she spread her slender legs before her, gripped her new nylons, and ripped them to shreds.

  On Sunday, after church, Velman Cooper came out to our house and drove away with our mother.When he brought her home late that evening, she was carrying a clock similar to the one she had thrown and broken, and a radio—something we had never owned. She placed the items on the seat of a chair, then she turned to me.

  “Where’s my money?” she asked. “I know Crow gave you some money.Where is it, Tangy Mae?”

  How did she know? I averted my eyes, stared down at my hands, and probably looked guilty, but I said, “Mama, he didn’t.”

  “Don’t lie to me ’cause I know he did. Crow all time throwing money ’round like it grow on trees. Give it here, Tangy Mae.”

  I scanned the room for an ally. It seemed to me that my brothers and sisters were hiding in shadows, dissociating themselves from me.

  I thought about the money I had removed from the book and tucked into my socks, and I could see my prom dress caught up in a hurricane, whirling away from me. In the eye of the storm, I stood determined. I was not going to give it up, but my mother stepped forward and stood toe to toe with me, breathing a dragon’s breath onto me.

  My dissolution was swift. My back went limp and my fingers reached down into my left sock where I had hid the twenty-dollar bill. I pulled it out and gave it to my mother. I had been afraid to go for the five because it might not have been enough, and then I would have lost it all.

  Mama seemed satisfied.“That’s right,” she said, fingering the bill. “I knew he gave you something. Don’t ever try to steal from me.”

  “But, Mama,” I said, “what about my dress for the prom?”

  “You want a dress? Get a job. That’s what you do, Tangy Mae.

  You get a job.”

  I was not stupid ordinarily, and so I blame my behavior on my desire to impress Jeff Stallings. Desperately, I reached out and tried

  to retrieve my money from my mother’s hand. She clenched a fist around the bill, looked me in my eyes, and began to laugh. I had gotten away with one impulsive moment of impertinence, but . . .

  Anger is airborne. It can be inhaled, and once it enters a body it becomes a tenacious blob of blues and browns with tiny speckles of red. It settles heavy in the lungs, making breathing ever so difficult.

  . . . I had been infected with anger.

  “Give it back, Mama,” I wheezed.“It’s mine and I want it. I need it.”

  She stood there toying with the bill, stretching it out, folding it in half, and wrapping it around her fingers.“You don’t need shit, Tangy Mae,” she said.“Everything you ever needed, I gave you.You remember that.Don’t you go getting no big head just ’cause Crow came through town. I mean it.”

  The gray-eyed witch of a woman stood between me and happiness. I felt, for a fleeting instant, that I might attack her, but not alone. I needed an accomplice, someone strong and vindictive.

  “You won’t let us have anything!” I shouted. “You take it all.

  Why do you do that?”

  She continued to laugh. It was obvious that I could not reason with her.Anyway, I was beyond trying.

  “Tarabelle!” I cried. My hand rose and I pointed an accusing finger at my mother.“Tarabelle, she has your ticket. Mushy sent it weeks ago, and Mama took it. She takes everything.”

  “What?”Tarabelle’s voice came from the shadows, but she did not move to my side. I was left standing alone, pointing a finger at my mother.

  Mama bent that finger.The pain radiated along the back of my hand, into my wrist, and up my arm to the elbow, until finally I heard a snap—like a dew-kissed string bean—and the oddest sound crackled in my throat.

  twenty - six

  Four days passed before Miss Pearl examined my finger and declared it “just a little bit sprained.That’s all.”

  I didn’t believe her. My finger was swollen, had a camel’s hump at the knuckle, and hurt like the dickens. It didn’t matter that I did not believe Miss Pearl; I was indebted to her. How she had done it, I may never know, but she had gone into my mother’s room that Friday, and emerged with an invitation for me to follow her.

  “Come on, Tangy Mae,” she’d said. “You coming wit’ me, and we gon’ get you a dress.”

  My dress was new and yellow and frilly and beautiful. I wore white shoes, and white gloves up to my elbows that covered the tape around my sprained finger. I felt pretty and shy as I walked, arm in arm, into the gymnasium with Jeff Stallings. Glittering stars and crepe paper moons dangled from the ceiling. The theme was Midnight in the Galaxy. The transformation of the gymnasium nearly took my breath away. Tables had been concealed beneath silver tablecloths that held crescent-shaped candles in crystal holders, and a huge silver dome over a central light fixture cast twinkling stars throughout the hall.

  Jeff led me to a table where Evelyn Saunters and Douglas Mayberry were seated. Evelyn, a junior with whom I seldom shared conversation, complimented my dress with a sincerity that made me wish Miss Pearl could have heard. She had spent hours getting me ready for this special occasion, despite objections from her husband that I was too young to be courting.

  She had paused in her task to stare at him. “This ain’t got nothing to do wit’ courting, Frank,” she’d said.“This just a few hours in one night in one lifetime.You mean to tell me you don’t think ever’ one of them children out there deserve at least one good time?”

  Reluctantly, he had nodded.“You right, Pearl.They do, but that don’t take away from the fact that Tangy Mae awful young for this.”

  Miss Pearl had given one of her “so what” grunts, then returned to the task of styling my hair into a fancy bun held by pearl-studded clips.The dress, gloves, earrings, and the white shoes with small heels just right for dancing were all gifts from Miss Pearl.

  Mama, persuaded by Miss Pearl, allowed me to stay overnight with her and Mr. Frank, where Jeff picked me up. Just like Mama had thought, he was driving his daddy’s new car. Before I left for the Garrisons’, my mother had spent at least fifteen minutes telling me how I should and should not act on a date. I was not to embarrass her, and I was not to let Jeff touch any part of me, except my hand. What she repeated most was, “Don’t let him kiss on you, Tangy Mae.”

  Mr. Frank had stood at the door with an arm draped over his wife’s shoulder.“This a night y’all gon’wanna remember,” he’d said. “I ain’t saying it’s right, but I hope y’all have a good time.You hear?”

  We were doing just that. In formal attire and an atmosphere of gaiety, we played at sophistication.We danced, sipped punch from paper cups, and laughed about things we would not have found amusing on any other day. I danced with Jeff over and over again, and I danced with his friend, Douglas.

  “You’re really something,” Jeff said to me when Douglas escorted me back to our table. “I believe you could dance all night. I could sit here and watch you all night, too. But I’m plum worn out from dancing.”

  For his sake, I tried to sit still; for my sake, I needed to move.He watched me for a moment, then he leaned over and kissed my cheek right there in the gymnasium, under the stars, in front of anybody who happened to be looking, and I didn’t mind at all.The kiss wasn’t so bad, and how could I refuse it in front of Evelyn and Douglas? How could I say no when I was wearing the beautiful corsage he had given me? I didn’t think a kiss on the cheek would embarrass my mother, and for once, I was among people who would not tell.

  After the prom, Jeff drove me back to the Garrisons’ house, and we sat in the car. For the first time, he brushed his lips against mine, then quickly pulled them away, and I thought his mother must have told him the same thing my mother had told me.

  “When will you turn eighteen so I can marry you?” he asked. I giggled. “In about four years.”

  He took my
hand in his.“Well, that’s perfect. That’s about the time I’ll be done with college. I’ll come back through here and take you away with me.We’ll go someplace where they don’t have red dirt, or cornfields, or cows, or bad storms, or any of the other junk in Pakersfield.”

  “I kind of like the storms,” I said.

  “Okay,” he said, lightly and agreeably, “we’ll keep the storms. I’ll just wrap you up and keep you safe.”

  “Jeff, I’m not afraid of storms.Are you?”

  “Well, I don’t think afraid is the right word.They make me a little nervous, that’s all.”

  “Then maybe I’ll have to wrap you up and keep you safe.”

  “Show me,” he teased.“Show me how you’d keep me safe.”

  “No.” I laughed to hide my embarrassment. “There’s no storm tonight.You come on back with the next storm, and I’ll show you then.”

  “It’s a deal,” he said.

  At the Garrisons’ front door, under the porch light, Jeff did not kiss me goodnight. He brushed my arm lightly, and winked an eye at me. “I knew you’d be fun,” he said. “I knew if I ever got you away from Mattie, you’d be fun.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes.”

  “Goodnight, Jeff Stallings. I had a wonderful time.”

  “Goodnight, Tangy Quinn. I did, too.”