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Authors: Ernest Hill

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BOOK: It's All About The Moon When The Sun Ain't Shining
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Chapter Fourteen
T
he night passed and though I did not sleep sound, I did sleep, and when I awoke to the warm yellow rays of the risen December sun falling tenderly upon my face through the partially opened blinds, I was instantly relieved, for it had seemed that night would never end, and I was glad when I heard Mama scurrying about and thankful for the work that awaited me at the diner, for I could not bear the thought of being home all day, thinking about Omenita, pondering what she was doing—wondering if she would call.
I dressed and went into the kitchen. Daddy was sitting at the table eating breakfast and Mama was standing over the stove, cooking. Both of them were already dressed. Daddy was wearing his long-sleeve gray khaki shirt and a pair of gray khaki pants and Mama had on a long white dress that she wore to work and an old plain apron about her waist and a plain white rag covering her head. I spoke and sat down, and as I sat there, staring at my food—grits and eggs, bacon and biscuits—I asked myself again if I was doing the right thing or should I give in and call Omenita and make things right before this thing between us got out of hand. And at that moment, I hated myself, for I was weak in a way that I had not realized. No, I would not call... I could not call... I was contemplating this when I heard Daddy's voice rise above the quietness.
“You aw right, son?” he asked me.
I looked up; he was looking at me.
“I'm aw right,” I said. And when I did, I heard Mama sigh. And I looked toward the stove and Mama had turned toward the table and was looking in my direction and I could tell by her expression that she was perturbed, quite perturbed.
“Well, I hope you ain't gon' mope around all day,” she said, “because I suspect that's just what that gal want you to do.” She paused and I saw her turn back toward the stove and place a slice of bacon into the cast-iron skillet. I heard the hot grease sizzle, then pop. “Just don't make no sense,” she mumbled. “Running behind a crazy girl like Omenita.”
I looked at Daddy and I saw him shake his head. Frustrated, I raised my fork and took a small bite of scrambled eggs, and as I chewed I saw Mama looking at me and when I did, I looked away. I did not want to talk to her about Omenita, and I wanted her to know that I didn't. She remained quiet, but I could still feel her angry eyes on me. Behind me, I heard footsteps on the floor. I turned and looked; Grandpa Luke was standing in the doorway. He had on a plaid red-and-black shirt and a pair of well-worn overalls.
“How y'all making out this morning?” he asked. He sounded like he was still very, very tired and I didn't imagine he had slept too well.
“Good morning, Papa,” Daddy said.
“How you feeling, Grandpa Luke?” I asked him.
“Oh, I guess I'll do,” he said.
“Want some breakfast?” Mama asked.
“Naw. Just think I'll get myself a cup of coffee,” he said.
I saw him move to the cupboard and remove a cup.
“Here you go, Papa,” Daddy said. “You can sit here.”
“Keep your seat,” Grandpa Luke said. I saw him pour some coffee in his cup then turn toward the door. “I ain't staying,” he said. “Still got a couple of things to do in my room yet.”
“What kind of things?” Daddy asked.
“Just got to put a few things away,” he said. “That's all.”
“I can do that,” Mama said. “Soon as I get off from work. You ain't got to worry with that. You ain't got to worry with that at all.”
I saw Daddy look at Mama, then at Grandpa Luke.
“Papa, you ain't packing, are you?”
“Packing,” Mama said.
“As a matter of fact,” Grandpa Luke said. “I am.”
“Then, you still thinking about leaving?” Daddy asked.
“Leaving!” Mama said. “What's all this talk about leaving?”
“Just time to go back home,” Grandpa Luke said.
I saw Mama look at him, confused. And I looked at Grandpa Luke and thought how lucky he was to have had a love like Grandma. And how much he must miss her. And how eager he must be to return home to be close to her. And how sad he must be feeling after losing her.
“But this is your home,” Mama told him.
“No, baby,” Grandpa Luke said. “This your home.”
“Did we offend you?” Mama asked. “ 'Cause Lawd know we didn't mean to.”
“No, child,” Grandpa Luke said. “Just something there I need, I can't get here.”
I saw Mama frown and I knew she did not understand for I had not understood—not in the woods when I first had heard him speak—but now I did. And since I did, I knew he could not stay ... not here ... not separated from the woman that he loved. Yes, I understood. I understood completely.
“What?” she asked him.
“Lucille,” Grandpa Luke told her.
“Mama Lu!” Mama said. I saw her look at Daddy, but he was not looking at her; he was looking at Grandpa Luke.
“When you wanting to go?” he asked.
“Well,” Grandpa Luke said, “I was hoping you could drop me off on your way to work this morning, if you got time.”
Mama was standing behind Grandpa Luke. I saw her look at Daddy and shake her head no. I saw Daddy look at her, then lift the cup of coffee sitting before him and take a sip. “I got time,” he said. “If that's what you want.”
“It's what I want,” Grandpa Luke said.
Outside, a horn blew and instinct made Mama turn toward the door and look. And though she could not see, she knew it was Miss Alberto, the woman she rode to work with. I saw her look at Daddy and shake her head again. And I knew she was trying to tell him not to take Grandpa Luke away, but to keep him here until she got back and perhaps she would be able to talk him out of doing that which to her made no sense. I saw Daddy shrug, signaling his surrender. Grandpa Luke had made up his mind and as far as Daddy was concerned, it was out of his hands. He would do as Grandpa Luke wished, like it or not.
Miss Alberto blew the horn a second time, and I saw Mama remove her apron and grab her coat and purse from atop the deep freezer.
“Better go,” she said. “Sound like Alberto in a mighty big hurry this morning.”
Daddy took another sip of coffee, then spoke to her over the rim of his cup.
“Need me to bring anything back from town?” he asked.
“You can fill my prescription from the drugstore,” she said, “if you don't mind.”
“I don't mind,” he said.
I saw Mama turn to leave.
“Y'all be good,” she said.
“Bye, Mama,” I said.
“Bye, son,” she said.
“Have a good day,” Grandpa Luke said.
“You do the same.” She paused and looked at Grandpa Luke. “Will I see you when I get back?” she asked.
“Maybe tomorrow,” he said. “Thank I'm gon' sleep in my own bed tonight.”
She left, and Daddy dropped Grandpa Luke off by his house then the two of us went to work. When we got there, Jake and Reuben were already there; they were sitting in the kitchen at the table drinking coffee waiting for the diner to open and our shift to begin. I looked at them, but I did not really see them; my mind had again strayed to Omenita. I had seen her car in her yard when we passed, and the sight of it had spurned in me the desire to glimpse her face or hear her voice and that's what I was thinking when they spoke to Daddy and that's why I didn't hear them when they spoke to me.
“Ain't you gon' speak, son?” I heard Daddy say.
“Sir?” I said.
“Jake and Reuben,” he said. “They spoke to you.”
I looked toward the table, both Jake and Reuben were looking at me.
“Morning,” I said.
“Morning,” they both said in unison.
I looked at Jake and at Reuben, then looked away.
“Beautiful morning, huh, boss man,” Jake said to Daddy.
“Yeah,” Daddy said. “If I must say so myself.”
“Want a cup of coffee?” Reuben asked Daddy.
“Had a cup 'fo I left home,” Daddy said. “But thank you anyway.”
“What about you, little boss man?” Reuben asked me. “You drank coffee?”
I heard him, yet I didn't hear him. I wasn't listening; I was looking out the back door toward the highway.
“Son!” Daddy called to me. Instantly, my head snapped around.
“Yeah, Daddy,” I said.
“Ain't you gon' answer Reuben.”
I looked at Reuben, confused.
“Want some coffee?” he repeated.
“No, thank you,” I said.
I saw Jake looking at me strangely.
“Little boss man,” he said, “you aw right?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
And instantly, I looked away for I was not interested in talking to him or Reuben or anyone. I raised my eyes and I looked at the big clock high on the wall. It was a quarter 'til seven. The diner would open any minute now and I wanted to get to work and occupy my mind with something other than thoughts of Omenita, for I was convinced that at this very moment she was not spending her time thinking of me. But of what was she thinking? And why had it been so easy for her to give up on that for which I had been convinced we both longed? Was it because of her certainty that I was not a man of resolve and that I would succumb to her? If not today, then tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, then next week. But, no, I would not succumb, I would occupy myself until time revealed to me our fate. And whatever it should be, I would accept it, once and for all. If not for her, then for me. For I was a man. Yes, I was a man.
I turned my face toward the door and I saw Tommy, the short-order cook, poke his head through and speak, then I heard the bell on the front door jingle and I heard the sound of feet on the diner floor and I smiled for from the sound of things it appeared as if once again we were in for a busy day. And before long, I found myself standing before the sink and my hands were submerged in the warm suds and the doors were swinging in and out and the grill was sizzling and Jake was talking and my mind was on my work and though my heart was still numb I was not sad, for there was no time to think and as I reveled in the work, I only hoped that the pace of things would last long enough to help me through the day. And though I liked the pace, I was not anxious for this day to pass, for after work, the only thing awaiting me was time.
Chapter Fifteen
A
t twelve, I headed to the drugstore to fill Mama's prescription. It was lunchtime and I was not hungry and I did not feel like sitting around the kitchen with Daddy and Jake and Reuben. I was okay as long as I was occupied, but when things slowed, my mind began to wander and I began to feel the strain of my situation with Omenita. And when that feeling came, there was in me an intense desire to move about and find something to occupy my mind.
I didn't leave through the front door; instead I exited the diner through the rear door just off the kitchen and made my way through the short alley and across the narrow intersection that separated the diner from downtown. And once across, I mounted the steps and followed the walk around the corner and along the shops that lined both sides of the street. And as I ambled along, I could not help but notice the long line of cars that seemingly stretched from one end of town to the other and the hordes of people that filled the walkways on either side of Main Street. And as I looked about, I figured that all of this activity was due in part to the hour and in part to the proximity of the holidays. And in spite of the activity and the hordes of people surrounding me, somehow, I still felt alone ... terribly alone.
The drugstore was located near the center of the street, and though it was a place where many of the townsfolk congregated (mostly whites) and consumed sodas and milkshakes or ate ice cream and hamburgers, I never went there except to fill a prescription or to purchase some other type of over-the-counter medication. In fact, I had never sat at that counter, not once in my twenty years of life. Nor had I ever seen any other black person there. I'm sure they had, it's just that I had never witnessed it.
I pulled the door open and was headed back to the pharmacy counter when I heard a voice ring out.
“Fancy meeting you here.”
I had been in a daze but when I heard the voice I turned and looked. Danielle was sitting at the counter on a bar stool next to a young white girl, drinking a cup of coffee. I smiled, but I did not speak. I was uncomfortable. The place was packed to capacity with white folks, and it seemed that every one of them was looking at me.
“I'm not accustomed to being kept waiting,” she said. Her tone was playful.
“Sorry,” I said. And though I did not look about, I could feel the eyes of the others on me ... wide ... white ... curious. “Been kind of busy.” I wanted to keep walking but I did not 'less she think me rude.
I raised my eyes and looked about. Yes, they were all looking at me. Suddenly, the place seemed quiet—too quiet. I started to leave but she stopped me.
“How's work?”
“Fine,” I said. “As a matter of fact, I'm at lunch now. And I need to pick up a prescription for Mama.”
“Not serious, I hope.”
“No,” I said. “Just blood pressure, I think.”
There was silence.
“Good seeing you,” I said. I turned toward the back.
“Wait,” she said. “I just had an idea.”
I looked but did not speak.
“What about right now?”
“Excuse me,” I said.
“Lunch,” she said.
I didn't answer.
“You are on break, aren't you?”
I tried to think of a lie, but shock had rendered my brain mute. I looked at her then nodded.
“Good,” she said. “How long is your break?”
I looked about, uncomfortable. Why was she doing this? Why?
“An hour,” I said.
I saw her push away from the counter.
“That settles it,” she said. “Lunch it is.”
“The prescription,” I said.
“There's no line,” she said. “Should only take a couple minutes.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” she said. “Now, I insist.”
“Okay,” I said.
Now I was sorry that I had come in here and I wanted nothing now but to leave and put some distance between me and those eyes staring out at me. I made my way back to the counter and as I walked I kept my eyes straight ahead and I hoped that she would not follow me, and I secretly prayed that in the few minutes it took the pharmacist to fill the prescription, I could think of some way to beg off from this thing that I did not want to do. When I made it to the counter, I glanced back and I saw that she had taken her seat at the counter and resumed her conversation with the young lady sitting next to her. Only now, she was not facing the counter. She was sitting on the stool facing the girl and looking toward me. Our eyes met and she smiled, and I quickly looked away, and when I did I saw Mr. John, the pharmacist, staring at me from the little desk behind the counter.
“May I help you?” he asked. I heard the springs on the old swivel chair squeak as he pushed back from the desk and turned toward me.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I need to fill a prescription.”
I ran my hand deep into my pocket and retrieved the prescription, and I stretched forth my hand. But Mr. John did not move. Instead, he stared at me for a moment before standing and I knew he was letting me know that he did not approve of the way Danielle and I were talking. And after he was sure that I understood, I saw him place the palms of his hands flat against the arms of the chair. I heard him grunt, then I saw him push to his feet. And once erect, he paused a moment to gather himself before shuffling the short distance from his old desk to the counter. This was his store and he had been operating it for almost fifty years but he was old (he was in his late sixties) and his health was failing. And as a result, he now only worked a few hours a day, two or three days a week. Other than that, his oldest son, Eldridge, a pharmacist as well, ran the place.
I saw him pick up the prescription and look it over, then slowly move back behind the shelves, and once he had filled it, I paid him and made my way back up front. And as I did, I saw Danielle slide off the stool and step away from the counter. And at that moment, I wished that I had not come here. And I wished that she was not standing there. And I wished these people were not staring at me. For if I had not, then I would not have to deal with her or lunch or her father ever again. I looked at my watch and was somewhat disappointed that only a couple of minutes had passed.
Oh, what am I going to do?
I said to myself.
Oh God, what?
I walked on and when I was but a few feet from her, she stopped me.
“Ready, Maurice?” she asked, then smiled.
I nodded but did not speak.
“Where would you like to go?”
No place, I told myself. But, I could not say that to her. And at that moment, I hated her for putting me in such an awkward position.
“Wherever you'd like,” I said.
I looked at the door then behind me. I saw a man rise and walked toward us. And as he passed, he looked at me and I quickly looked away. I did not want this ... I did not want this at all.
“Let's see,” she said. “I've been craving catfish lately.” She paused and looked at me. “Do you like catfish?”
I nodded.
“Then catfish it is,” she said. “Is that okay with you?”
“It's okay,” I said.
I followed her out of the store and onto the landing and as she walked, I looked at her. Yes, she was a pretty girl. I would guess about five foot seven or five foot eight. She had long blond hair that stopped midway down her back. Her eyes were a soft shade of blue. Her ruby-red lips were round and full, forming a dainty baby doll mouth inside of which were the whitest teeth I had ever seen. Outside, she stopped and looked about.
“Where's your car?” she asked.
I looked at her, then back toward the diner.
“At the diner,” I said.
“Mine is right here,” she said, pointing. Her car was parked just beyond the landing in front of the drugstore. “If you like,” she said, “we can take it.”
I hesitated, wondering if that was the right thing to do.
No, I heard a voice deep within me say. How would I explain riding all over town with a white girl. A rich white girl at that. No, that would not be wise.
“No thanks,” I said. “I'll meet you there. I need to stop at the diner.”
“You sure?” she asked. “I don't mind driving.”
“I'm sure,” I said. “But thanks anyway.” I turned to leave, then paused. She had not said where we were going. Oh, I should have decided, lest she take me someplace I had rather not go. “By the way,” I said, “where are we going?”
“Oh, I'm sorry,” she said, smiling. “I didn't say, did I? You must forgive me. Sometimes I can be such a ninny.”
She looked at me, but I remained silent.
“The Catfish Cabin,” she said. “Do you know how to get there?”
“Yes,” I said. “I know.”
“So I take it you've eaten there before?”
“No,” I said, then shook my head. “I haven't.”
“Are you serious?” she asked.
“I'm serious.”
“Really?”
“Really,” I said.
“Well brace yourself,” she said. “You're in for a real treat. It's just the best catfish in the whole state of Louisiana.”
I headed back to the diner and as I did, I saw her climb into her car and head west on Main Street toward the restaurant, and I stood there in the cold and I watched her car move farther and farther away until it disappeared into the horizon. And all about me the streets and walkways were still filled with people. And I stood there a moment longer taking them in. Then I wandered into the diner and explained the situation to Daddy, then borrowed the truck and a few dollars, and headed out to meet her. As I drove, I was anxious to get this done and over with. She was a nice girl and all, but my mind was on Omenita and our unstable situation. I pulled into the restaurant's lot and parked the truck just east of the building.
BOOK: It's All About The Moon When The Sun Ain't Shining
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