Queen (127 page)

    see her walking along the path toward him, and she would come to him, and

    sit in her rocking chair, and puff on her empty pipe, and never go away

    again. As the night wore on, he could not even bring himself to look at

    the empty chair beside him, for it reminded him too painfully of what he

    had lost.

    As the steel of dawn edged into the sky, he fell asleep in his chair,

    still waiting for her to come home.

A couple of miles away, in that same early morning light, a sharecropper

and his son made their way down the lane to their few acres, and heard a

scrabbling sound in the ditch that edged the fields. They thought it was

an animal who had been hurt and went to find it, to put it out of its

misery.

It was Queen, covered in mud, brambles stuck in her hair

776 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

and her dress, cowering in a hole she had dug with her bare hands. She was

muttering, and stared at the sharecropper with vacant eyes. He knew she was

the ferryman's woman, and reached out his hand to her, but she backed away

from him, frightened, whimpering her fear.

    "Fetch yo' ma, boy," the sharecropper told his son. "This be woman's work."

    The sharecropper sat near Queen to keep an eye on her, and she seemed to

    accept his presence, but would not move out of her hole. His wife and two

    daughters came, and were gentle with Queen, and coaxed her from her hiding

    place with woman's words, and led her home.

    They brought the deranged Queen to Alec, at his shack. He stood on the

    porch watching her return, with Minnie and Julie, but did not go to her,

    because she did not seem to know him, or where she was.

"This here's yo' wife," the woman said.

Alec's heart exploded. "She low sick?"

    "She touched in the head," the woman said, simply, just as it was, without

    comment or criticism. Alec moved to Queen and put his arm around her, but

    she did not seem to know him. He offered food to the woman and her

    daughters, but she said there was no need.

"I'm right sorry to see her this way."

    Alec led Queen to the house, telling her she was safe because she was home,

    but she did not hear him, nor did she recognize her daughters.

    91

Simon tried to make himself comfortable in the cramped

porter's cubbyhole as the train rattled through the night from

Buffalo to Pittsburgh. It was two in the morning, and all the

passengers in his compartment were tucked into their berths.

Sleeping, Simon thought enviously, which he could not do.

    A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 777

He was tired, depressed about his future, and worried about his ma.

    He had been writing a letter to Bertha, but the movement of the train

    jarred his hand, and his writing looked scratchy. Or so he told himself,

    when really he knew that he could not tell Bertha of his mother's plight,

    for he was worried she might not understand. Queen had been

    institutionalized because of her mental breakdown, and to the uncaring

    mind that equated with mad, and he did not want anyone to think that of

    his mother. He screwed up the paper and threw it in the bin. He would

    have to tell Bertha-she had to know-but he would do it tomorrow, when he

    was thinking clearly. He settled on the stool, his back against the wall

    and his feet on a shelf so he could rest his head on his knees, and

    closed his eyes to rest.

    He enjoyed his job as a Pullman porter, but he found it difficult to

    adjust to his nighttime schedule. He spent very little of the money that

    he earned on himself, and what he had saved from his wages, together with

    his tips, had given him sufficient money to dream about college again.

    He wouldn't have minded his failure if he believed that he did not have

    the ability to do well, but he was sure his low grades were because of

    his several part-time jobs, and he was loath to abandon his academic

    ambitions entirely. He wanted at least the chance to compete on a level

    field, to see if he was right, and he had begun to wonder if he could go

    back to A & T for one last semester. The money he had saved meant that

    he would not have to work for that time, and he would be able to devote

    all his energy to his education. Then he had received a letter from his

    brother Conway, telling him of Queen's plight, and Simon felt his place

    was in Savannah, with his mother.

    He woke suddenly, a few minutes later, to the insistent ringing of the

    bell. One of his passengers was awake and wanted something. Simon blinked

    the sleep from his eyes, and pulled himself to his feet. The bell rang

    again, and it irritated Simon.

    "Yes, sub, Massa. I's a-comin', Massa," he muttered angrily at the bell,

    in fair imitation of slave dialect. "Hold yo' bosses. "

    He splashed water on his face, and hurried to answer the summons. He

    presented a pleasant face to the passenger, an

778 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

elderly man in silk pajamas and a fine dressing gown. His wife couldn't

sleep, and he wondered if warm milk was possible.

    Simon was warming the milk on the stove in the serving cubicle when the

    passenger appeared in the doorway. The cubbyhole was small, and two was

    a crowd.

    "Something else, sir?" Simon inquired politely, but the passenger shook

    his head. He was a night owl, and did most of his thinking, and most of

    his work before his retirement, at night. Now he was wide-awake, and

    wanted someone to talk to. He kept his voice low, because others were

    asleep.

    Simon didn't know what to talk about, and busied himself with the milk.

"Good job?" the passenger asked him.

... Tain't my dream," Simon shrugged.

    The man smiled, and wondered what Simon's dream was. So Simon told him,

    and told him of his plan to go back to the farm.

    The passenger raised his eyebrows. "You don't want to graduate?"

    "I wish," Simon said, shrugging again, and saw no reason not to tell the

    truth. "My grades are terrible."

"Ahhh," said the passenger, and that made Simon mad.

    "Ain't no 'ahhh' about it," he said, rather more sharply than he

    intended. "I could do it, I know I could, but I never got the time to

    study. "

    He explained something of his circumstances, and the passenger nodded

    gravely, but his only comment was that it seemed a pity to waste all his

    hard work.

    Simon nodded politely, but seethed inwardly. What could this rich white

    man know of a young black boy's problems? Simon was guessing that he was

    rich, but his dressing gown was luxurious, and his manner courtly.

    "Milk's ready, sir," he said, to be rid of the man. The passenger took

    the tray and went back to his wife, but returned a few minutes later as

    Simon was settling to doze again.

    "Soffy," he said. "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Mr. Boyce. What's

    your name?"

    Simon gave his name, and they talked for a while of the world and its

    problems. The man seemed more interested in Simon's general knowledge and

    eventual ambition, rather than

    A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 779

his specific educational achievements. He talked of world events, and of

the possibility of war in Europe. The United States would not be involved,

but Mr. Boyce wondered how Simon would feel if his country ever did go to

war.

"Reckon I'd enlist," Simon said.

    Mr. Boyce nodded and smiled. "Even though your country has not exactly

    treated your people well?"

    Simon didn't want to get into an argument about race relations. It was

    too late and he was too tired.

    "Be a sight more exciting than working on the farm," he said.

    Mr. Boyce nodded again. He checked his watch, and apologized for keeping

    Simon from his duties. He smiled.

    "Or your sleep," he said, and bade Simon good night. Simon settled into

    his cubbyhole and closed his eyes, but all he could think of was his

    mother.

    On the platform at Pittsburgh the next morning, Mr. Boyce sought Simon

    out and introduced his wife to him. He thanked Simon for the interesting

    conversation of the previous night and gave him a five-dollar tip.

    "Don't give up on your dreams too easily," he said. He and his wife

    wished Simon well, and went on the way.

    Simon put the five dollars in his pocket and finished up his duties. Mr.

    Boyce had annoyed him a little but had spurred him as well. As he worked,

    he came to a decision about his future.

At the end of the summer, he went home for a week to see his family. Alec

met him at the depot, and greeted Simon warmly.

"How's MaT' Simon asked

    "Not too good, boy," Alec told him. They climbed into the buggy, and as

    they drove Alec explained what he knew of Queen's mental state.

    "Profoun' dementia, that's what they said." He wasn't sure he'd got it

    right. "I think that's what they said."

    Alec had called a doctor to Queen after her breakdown, and he had

    recommended she be institutionalized. He did not think Queen was

    dangerous to anyone else, but believed that she could do harm to herself.

    Alec resisted him strongly, but when

780 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

Queen's condition did not improve to any great extent, he put aside his

prejudices about mental illness and committed her. He almost changed his

mind when he took her to the institution; it was a nightmare place, a

house of the mad, and Alec did not want to admit that Queen was mad. The

doctors persuaded him that they could help Queen, and, however reluc-

tantly, he agreed to let her stay.

    She was getting better, but he hated what they were doing to her. They

    had some water treatment they used on her, to flush the fire demons out

    of her, they said, but Alec thought it was something from a manual of

    torture. They strapped her to a chair and poured a headlong rush of water

    on her, from above, from a fireman's hose, sometimes for up to half an

    hour. He couldn't imagine how the frail woman who was his wife could

    endure it.

But she did seem to be getting better.

    "The thing is," he told his son, "I keep wonderin' if'n she's in there

    coz of me. "

    He blamed himself bitterly for Queen's condition, but couldn't see what

    more he could have done to help her. He visited her as often as he could,

    and tried to provoke her to health.

"I ain't mad," she said.

    Alec was gentle with her, but firm. He had to be firm, for both their

    sakes.

"You here," he said. "Must be somethin' wrong."

She didn't want to hear that, and turned away.

    "I keep wondering what I did wrong," he said. "I tried to make a good

    home fo' us, I tried to be a good husband to you, I tried to be a good

    pappy to our chillun . . ."

    He remembered her distress when Abner wanted to leave home, and what she

    had said to him then.

    "I think I tried hardest with Abner," he said, "because he weren't mine.

    He was some part of you I could never reach, and I thought if'n I could

    reach him, I could reach that part of you. An' I cain't work out what I

    did wrong."

    If there was one, single moment when Queen began to see the light that

    would guide her back to sanity, it was then. She could not bear to see

    him castigate himself, for he had done nothing wrong. She reached out to

    him and touched his hand.

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    "Not a thing, I promise you," she whispered. "Not one single thing."

    But he would not relent. In his heart he believed that she would only get

    better when she wanted to get better, and he had to give her that will.

    "I wants you to be well an' happy," he said. "But if'n you cain't be

    well, I wants you to be happy, an' if'n you cain't be happy, I wants you

    to be well."

    The tiny light that Queen could see in the distance grew stronger. All

    sons of things that had never made sense before suddenly became clear to

    her.

    She didn't know how to be happy. No one had ever taught her. As a child

    she was expected to serve and obey, but no one ever cared about her

    happiness. She had been happy, briefly, in Decatur, but it was some other

    she, the white side that the world rejected, and she had lived a lie, so

    the happiness was a lie. She thought she'd been happy with the sisters

    in Huntsville, but when Abner was born she realized that the sisters

    didn't really care about her at all; they were using her for their own

    selfish needs. She tried to be happy with Davis, but he was too concerned

    with the pain of the world to be able to alleviate hers.

    All her life she'd been trying to work out where she belonged, all her