Ain't Gonna Be the Same Fool Twice (3 page)

“You know, the cashier job at the Prairie Star Diner,” I answered in disbelief.

“What makes y'all think the Prairie Star Diner was hiring?”

“Today, the
HELP WANTED
sign was in the window just as big as day. No pun intended.”

“Yeah, and you told me that you were on your way to town to apply,” Sharlinda reminded her.

Today pulled on her T-shirt and zipped up her jeans. She glanced up at her poster of President Nixon sitting on the toilet.

“Ooh, that sign. ‘Gertrude, didn't I tell you to take that sign out of the window, two days ago?' ‘Oh, Ruth, I forgot.'” Today mimicked the white townies. “‘Why, the new girl starts Monday. Nice girl, too, from one of the Quad cities.'”

“Yeah, sure,” I groaned.

“Yeah, like fun,” Sharlinda rolled her eyes.

“But wait.” Today held up her hand. “Y'all haven't heard the killer.”

“What's that?” I asked.

“Pour me a taste while I tell you what the real killer is.”

Sharlinda handed Today some wine and freshened our drinks.

“Honey, the real killer is, I had Becky call the diner from the desk a few minutes ago.”

“No, you didn't, girl!” Sharlinda said.

“Girl, yes I did, too. And wait til you hear the stone killer.”

“What's that?” I wanted to know. “The stone killer is the woman at the diner told Becky to come on down. The cashier job was still open.”

“No she didn't!” Sharlinda shouted.

“Yes she did!” Today sipped her wine like it was a really good year, steada some cheap stuff.

“Umph, umph, umph,” I shook my head.

“Well, then, Aunt Jemima, what took you so long?” Sharlinda teased.

“I'm gonna let that slide. Anyway I hit every store on the square to see if anybody was even thinking about hiring. I mean I pounded the hell out of the pavement, and ended up missing the last bus. I had to walk from town.”

“You couldn't hitch a ride?” Sharlinda asked.

“I don't like to hitch by myself.”

I nodded, I felt the same way. “Any luck, anywhere?”

“Not really. I made the mistake of going into Tumbleweed Liquors. And the guy behind the counter patted my butt as he handed me the application!”

“Did you give him a piece of your mind?” I asked, fuming.

“Did you go upside his head with one of them whiskey bottles?” Sharlinda hollered.

“No, but I read his behind from
A
to
Z
. And then he had the nerve to tell me that he was only a red-blooded American responding to a negress in heat!”

“A negress in heat!” Sharlinda screamed angrily.

“Check the calendar—is this man really saying ‘negress' in 1971?” I marveled.

“Girl, if I hadn't seen the courthouse and the jailhouse out of the corner of my eye, I would've done serious damage to him. But then I would've just been another nigga behind bars. I didn't want to add to the country's black jail population.”

“You need to go to the NAACP,” I suggested. “I think the closest branch is in Peoria.”

“Wow, Stevie, the NAACP, in Peoria, Illinois.” Sharlinda rolled her eyes. “They will really scare somebody.”

“Well, we should get people to boycott the Prairie Star Diner, then.”

“This town is almost a hundred percent white. Our business is just a drop in their damn bucket.” Today poured herself some more wine. “What do they care? They don't want us in the Prairie Star Diner, no way.”

“They'd care if enough white students and professors joined in with us. If the newspaper supported us, we could make a difference then.”

“Stevie, these white students ain't gonna get bent out of shape behind this. They done put civil rights on the back burner, chile. All they care about is smoking reefer, women's lib, and staying out of Vietnam.”

Today nodded in agreement. I wish I had me a joint,” she sighed. “Anybody got any weed?”

“Not me.” I shrugged. When have you
ever
had any weed? I asked myself. I had yet to buy my first nickel bag. I was on a tight budget. Mama sent me spending money every week. But it barely covered the laundry, snacks, and the quarter movies they showed at the Student Union.

The real deal was, I'd only smoked dope a few times with Sharlinda. The truth be told, she'd taught me how to inhale. I liked it. It made me laugh. It made me horny. Unfortunately, it made me hungry. And I was almost a size ten now.

“I ain't got so much as a roach, and all my connections went to Chicago for the weekend already.” Sharlinda sighed.

“Plus, my money is funny and my change is strange. Unless y'all want to forget about the pizza.”

“No, I'm starving, after walking damn near two miles. Pour me another taste, girl.”

“I'll pour all of us another taste.” Sharlinda held up the half-empty bottle. “Let's kill this bad boy.”

Today got up and turned the album over. “Let's order the doggone pizza—see if the line's free.”

I was the closest to the phone. “I know the number by heart.”

“Hello, hello.” I didn't hear a dial tone. I wasn't surprised that someone was on the line, because we all had party lines. But I couldn't understand why nobody was talking. I just heard breathing.

“Hello. How come you're not saying anything?” There was no reply.

“They're not talking; just breathing.”

“I'm sick of their shit!” Today shouted.

“You know who it is?” I asked.

“Damn straight. It's this hoogie down at the end of the hallway. They call themselves having an argument by just breathing on the phone, lately.”

Hoogie
was a word for white people, like
honky
and
peckawood
. Although hoogie usually referred to middle-class-white folks. I'd only heard it used by black students here on the Illinois prairie.

Sharlinda frowned. “This is some really tired-ass shit.”

I decided to talk some sense into these people tying up the line.

“I need to use the phone. Please give up the line if you're not gonna talk.” Now, who could resist that request. I'd been polite but firm. I listened for an apology or a click, but there was no response. I stared at the receiver in disbelief.

“This is beyond ridiculous!” Sharlinda yelled. “This is
rodiculous!
”

I hung up the phone.

“You should've
slammed
that mothafucka down!” Sharlinda shouted.

“Have you complained to your R. A.?” I asked.

“Yeah, and it hasn't done shit. I've had it up to here with these hoogies! Do you hear me? They've gotten on my last nerve. They think they own the whole damn world. The only one I can stand right now is Becky.”

“Stevie, girl, you too nice; trying to reason with them and shit. ‘Please give up the line if you're not gonna talk.'” Sharlinda mimicked. “You let these hoogies run all over you.”

I gulped my wine. “Nobody runs over me.”

“Yes they do, too. You can't even make a simple-ass phone call.”

“Well, let's see if you have any better luck.”

“OK.” Sharlinda grabbed the receiver. “Hang the mothafucka up, if you ain't gonna talk. Goddamnit! You know this is a goddamn party line, shit!” Sharlinda yelled, leaving the receiver dangling from the wall.

“Well, if that don't work, nothing will,” Today sighed.

I listened for a dial tone. “Sharlinda, looks like they're still breathing. You wanna go downstairs and call from the desk?”

“Hell no! I don't want to go downstairs and call from the goddamn desk! I have a constitutional right to use the mothafuckin' phone!”

“A constitutional right?” I laughed. “The telephone hadn't even been invented when the Constitution was written.”

Sharlinda folded her arms and twisted her neck.

“The Constitution guarantees me the right to freedom of speech, goddamnit! These hoogies are interfering with my right to speak. And I'm going to fight for my goddamn rights. Now, can I get a witness?”

Today waved her hand like they do in church.

“I think you might be stretching the Constitution a little bit far, myself,” I said.

“Stevie, there you go, acting like a Libra. Well, you can't always see both sides,” Sharlinda insisted. “Not if you've got soul.”

“I've got plenty of soul, Ms. Leo,” I shot back at Sharlinda. I picked up the phone. If I were lucky, I'd get a dial tone. And at least, I would appear tough. But instead, I heard the breathing again. “Now look, I'm gonna give y'all two minutes to get off this phone or else your ass is gonna be grass!”

I turned toward Sharlinda and Today, cradling the receiver in my hand. “How do you like me now?”

“Did you hear her? My girl went ‘Chicago' on 'em. She got hipped to her constitutional rights, honey.” Sharlinda and Today gave each other five.

“Sho did!” Today agreed. “She told 'em their ass is gonna be grass!”

“You see, Stevie might act all educated, but you better not fuck with her. They done made her show her color now. She's still a sistah from the Southside,” Sharlinda bragged.

I prayed for a dial tone. I hoped that my mouth hadn't written a check that my behind couldn't cash.

Today grabbed the receiver. “Ain't this a blip! They
still
breathing.”

“Stevie, you said they ass was gonna be grass,” Sharlinda reminded me. “It's been two minutes and I still ain't heard no dial tone.”

“OK!” I shouted into the phone. “You've left me no other choice. Now, your ass
is
grass!” I slammed down the phone.

“She's in Room Five Thirty-two,” Today said calmly.

Sharlinda slapped my back, excitedly. “If you gon' kick some ass, let's go kick some ass!”

For some reason, I lacked Sharlinda's enthusiasm. “What about her boyfriend? What if he runs over here?”

“Fuck her boyfriend. We got boyfriends too,” Sharlinda insisted. I knew that she was braiding Kenny's hair, but he hadn't asked her to go with him yet. And as for me, yeah, I'd gone to the quarter movie with Myron twice and he'd even paid. But we were technically still in the talking stage. He was at least three movies away from getting over. Maybe one, if he produced a joint. I didn't know Today's business. She seemed to be in love with anybody tall, dark, and Greek.

“Plus, we got the whole Kappa line,” Today interrupted my thoughts.

Maybe so, but none of these people were here now. I gulped down the rest of my wine for strength. I crushed the waxy paper cup in my hand.

“OK, I'm ready.” I stood up and headed for Room 532 with Sharlinda and Today at my heels.

My fist was raised to knock on the girl's door.

“What you fixin' to knock for?” Sharlinda groaned. “Would you invite somebody to come in your room who said they were gonna kick your ass? Just open the goddamn door!”

I dropped my hand and turned my head. “I just can't run up in the girl's room. It might be illegal or something.”

“Yeah, this is a legal ass kicking,” Today answered sarcastically.

“What if the door is locked?” I asked hopefully.

“Well, we can't stand here all night wondering. Let's get this show on the road!” Sharlinda reached in front of me and tried the doorknob. To my horror, the door swung open easily.

A stocky white girl stood planted with her back to us, holding the telephone. She was wearing a long denim work shirt and her head was wrapped up in a towel.

“That's right, it's all my fault!
You
had nothing to do with it!” she shouted in a French accent. “Everything is all my fucking fault!” Suddenly, the white girl turned and faced us. “Pardon me, but I'm utilizing the phone. What do you want here?”

We continued to stand in the doorway, but no one spoke.

The girl turned her attention back to the phone. “Matthew, you're nothing but a male chauvinist pig!” She slammed down the receiver.

I couldn't help but appreciate the way “chauvinist” had rolled off of her tongue. But this was no time to admire her French accent.

“Well, I guess she told him,” Today whispered.

I shuddered to myself. Maybe this girl was tough. Perhaps she'd descended from peasant stock.

“You have no right barging into my room like this!”

Sharlinda nudged me. “She's got the nerve to jump bad, now.”

I found my voice. “You had no right to tie up the phone like that. You know it's a party line.”

“Look, I really don't have time for this shit.”

“We don't have time for
your
shit, bitch!” Sharlinda shouted.

“You've been pulling that breathing routine for over two weeks now.” Today sighed. “You need to quit.”

“Look, I'm off the phone now. So, will you just go.” She waved her arms like she was shooing away pigeons.

“Naw, Mademoiselle, we ain't going nowhere!” Sharlinda insisted.

“We're not?” I gulped.

“No, it's too late for her to grip.” No, it's not, I wanted to protest. Let her beg, so we can leave.

“She should've gotten off the phone when homegirl first asked her to,” Sharlinda continued. “Now, the shit done got funky.”

Let's not get technical, I thought. “She's off the phone now,” I argued. “Let's just order the damn pizza.”

Today ignored me. “Didn't you hear her say your ass is grass?” Then she elbowed me. “Right, Stevie?”

“My ass is grass? Does that mean the three of you plan to attack me now?”

“Oh, no, just her,” Sharlinda pointed.

“Don't worry, it's gonna be a fair fight,” Today promised.

“This is crazy. Look, I'm not in the mood. So, please remove yourselves from my doorway at once.”

I stood frozen.