Such Sweet Thunder (12 page)

Tears welled in his eyes.

“Yessir.”

Rutherford helped his plate to the fish and potatoes. Viola passed the corn bread. He said: “It’s gittin’ so’s a man’s half scaired to walk on the street.” He poured himself a glass of tea and took a swig while Viola ate silently. “But when
I
was little it was even worse!”

Through the screen behind his father’s head he could see the large globe of light shining through Mrs. Crippa’s curtained window. “It was so bad that the cops had to walk four abreast.” All the doors on either side of Mrs. Crippa’s house were open, filled with soft light that seemed to have grown brighter since he first noticed it. “The cops had to walk four abreast! All except Mister Carter! There
was a
policeman, Amerigo! A colored man, a big black handsome niggah. An’
smart!
He usta walk the avenue by h-i-s-s-e-l-f! Aaah! An’-an’ he didn’ need no gun. He could throw that stick an’ git you a block away. I mean break your leg! Yessir! When that man, an’ I mean
man
, when
he
walked the block, the niggahs, the paddies, an’ ever’body else got just as quiet as mice at Sund’y school!

“ ‘G’d evenin’, Mister Carter!’ all the broads’d say. ‘Evenin’,’ he’d say. ‘Evenin’, Jack!’ A bad man. An’ he wasn’ killed neither, or took for no ride. Mister Carter died
in bed
. He had one a the biggest funerals that’s ever been on the north side!”

The sharp pungent aroma of boiling crawdads filtered into the kitchen as Rutherford’s voice died away. They were hot and red with red and black peppers, Irish potatoes, and sweet white onions. The smell of crawdads mixed with the smell of buffalo fish and fried potatoes, and sausages and Boston baked beans from next door. And now a shuffle of feet in the little toilet separating the two kitchens followed by a heavy masculine grunt and the splash of water in the toilet basin and then the sound of newspaper being torn from a sheet and crumpled in an unseen hand and finally the drag and flush of the flush-box. They looked embarrassedly at the table.

“Here kitty!” cried Aunt Lily from downstairs.

He froze with terror.

“Aunt Lily an’ her cats!” said Viola. “She’s got the cats an’ the mice eatin’ out a the
same
plate!”

“Here kittykittykittykitty!”

“Looks like that ’un ain’ hungry,” said Rutherford distractedly, his eyes aglow with the memories of times past.

He laid the piece of corn bread he’d been eating on the side of the plate.

“Ain’t you hungry?” asked Viola.

“No’m.”

“Well, eat anyway. After all you been up to taday, you need some food in your stomach.”

He forced the fish and potatoes down and sipped his tea.

“Kittykittykittykitty!”

“You’ll be goin’ to school soon, the same as me an’ your mamma usta, an’ you gonna have to learn to look out for yourself,” Rutherford was saying: “An’ there’s one thing I don’ never want you to forgit — mind your own business! If you happen to be where there’s a fight — shootin’, cuttin’, any kind a trouble — you go ’round it. An’ don’ go gittin’ into no fights with them little tough niggahs. Ah’m twenty years old, an’ —”

“Twenty-one,” said Viola cautiously. They exchanged significant glances, and then Viola dropped her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right — your momma an’ me was, was sixteen when you was born. Anyway — what was I sayin’? Aw, yeah, I’m twenty-one years old an’ I never carried a knife or nothin’ in my life, not even a penknife. If a man’s got a knife or a gun an’ trouble does start, he’ll use it nine times out a ten. But if he’s clean, he’s gonna do his best to stay out a trouble. If you can’t talk your way out a trouble — run! It ain’ no disgrace to run. But if you can’t run, then fight! But
fight!
To
win!
An’ don’ do no lot a playin’ ’round with them little jokers. A joker starts to playin’ with you, see, ‘Let’s box,’ he says, or ‘Put up yo’ dukes!’ Well, you hit ’im right away —
hard!
An’ then you say, ‘Aw did I hurt you? ’Scuse me!’ An’ from then on that cat’s gonna let you alone! An’ if you git to fightin’ with a joker, fight fair. An’ if he says he’s got enough, let ’im up, but don’ turn your back on ’im — don’ turn your back on
nobody!
An’, Amerigo, don’ never force no man in a corner; the biggest coward in the world’ll kill you if you git ’im hemmed in with no way out! But if you git beat up, git up an’ brush yourself off an’ keep on goin’. Okay, you tell yourself, I got beat that
time. Can’t nobody win ’um
all
. They’s always somebody — you heah me? They’s all-ways somebody
stronger
an’
quicker’n you
. Just as much in one hand as it is in the other, so you don’ have to be ashamed. Give me a little more a that fish there, Babe. You must a put your finger in it, it taste so good!” She helped his plate to more fish. “An’ comin’ an’ goin’ to school, anybody ask you. ‘Did you see So-an’-so doin’ such-an’-such?’ or ‘Did you hear So-an’-so say this-an’-that to So-an’-so?’ you don’ know
nothin’!
;Meddlin’ git you killed quicker’n lyin’. Don’
nobody
like a meddler!”

“An’ don’ go doin’ no whole lot a signifyin’!” added Viola. “You have to git along with people. They got a lot a tough girls down at that laundry, an’ I keep my distance. I don’ kid with
none of ’um!
They git to lyin’ an’ jokin’, playin’ the dozens, an’ the first thing you know there’s trouble.”

“What’s the dozens?”

Viola flushed with embarrassment. “It’s, it’s —”

“It’s a nasty game,” said Rutherford, “a way of supposed to be jokin’, talkin’ ’bout each other’s mommas. Aw, it don’ mean nothin’ for real, an’ sometimes it kin be funny. But then one wisecracker loses an’ ever’body laughs at ’im, an’ he can’t take it. He takes it to heart. An’ before you know it they’re swingin’ on each other! ‘I see your momma’s wearin’ a new wig!’ says one joker. ‘Yeah, she borrowed your ol’ lady’s G-string!’ the other joker answers. An’ then it starts. ‘Is that so!’ says the first joker. An’ then —”

“That’s enough, Rutherford, he’ll learn that filth soon enough.”

“That’s the way it
is
!” Rutherford protested.

A soft knock on the screen door.

“Yeah?” he said, turning around in his chair.

“Ain’ nobody but me,” said Mrs. Derby, smiling broadly, thrusting a large steaming plate through the door, piled high with bright coral crawdads, with little round potatoes and onions that had been cooked in the juice. Here and there appeared small black peppers and red-hots and bay leaves and pods of garlic, the savory odors of which spiraled upward in coils of steam.

“Unh — unh!” Rutherford exclaimed. “Looka that, Babe!”

“You really laid it on us this time, Mrs. Derby. How much are they?”

“Aw — take ’um for nothin’!” she said in a low cautious tone, making sure that Mr. Derby could not hear.

“Aw, thanks a lot!” said Viola in a tickled whisper.

“Yeah, that’s sure nice a you,” Rutherford added.

“Just send ’Mer’go with the plate when you git through,” waving her hand in such a way as to indicate what she really meant: when
he’s
gone, meaning, her husband.

“Aw-yeah, I see,” said Viola, taking the plate. Mrs. Derby shuffled quietly down the back steps.

No sooner had she gone than there was a knock on the toilet door. Rutherford looked at Viola and then got up and unfastened the hook and opened the door. Miss Sadie stood in the toilet with a box under her arm. She held the bosom of her dress as she spoke, hardly above a whisper:

“Kin I come in, Mrs. Jones?” peeping past Rutherford at Viola.

“Why, a course, Miss Sadie, come on in.”

Rutherford’s eyes swept up and down her tight-fitting dress. It was thin and there was nothing under it. Amerigo stared at her vacantly, remembering the smell of her body when she had held him in her arms that morning. Now he stared at her high-heeled house shoes trimmed in white fur.

“I was downtown today. I know Tony’s goin’ to school next week, an’ I saw this li’l suit, an’ I bought it. I thought if you wouldn’ mind. I bought it for him.”

She nervously opened the fancy box.

“From the
Palace!
” Viola exclaimed.

“Unh!” Rutherford grunted.

“Ain’ that cute, Mrs. Jones?” Miss Sadie exclaimed.

“Velvet britches!” Rutherford exclaimed. “If that boy goes to school wearin’ velvet pants, they sure are pretty an’ all that, I ain’ sayin’ they ain’, but he’s gonna have to fight e-v-e-r-y li’l niggah in school!”

“But he’ll look so sweet!” argued Miss Sadie. “An’ look, there’s a top to match, pure silk, with a little collar!”

He beheld the suit with awe. He touched the pale green mother-of-pearl buttons along the waist to which the top part was attached and rubbed his fingers over the dark green velvet pants. He spied a pair of pea-green anklets in the corner of the box.

“Look!” He held them up.

“Them’s to go with the en-semble,” Miss Sadie explained with a grateful smile. She had forgotten the collar of her dress, and now the deep lapels from which the two top buttons were missing dropped away from her bosom. Viola rose suddenly to her feet, stepped between Miss Sadie and Rutherford, grabbing the suit from her hands as she did so, holding it in front of her exposed body:

“My, my, Miss Sadie. I don’ know what to say! That’s about the cutest little suit I’ve ever seen, ain’ it, Rutherford?”

“Unh.”

“You’ll have Amerigo goin’ to school lookin’ like a rich white boy!”

“Then he kin have it?” asked Miss Sadie.

“I guess so, if it’s all right with his father. What you got to say,
Father!
”

“Who, me? It’s, it’s all right with me if it’s all right with his momma.”

“Well, it’s all right with me.”

“Then it’s all right with me,” Rutherford replied. “We’re much obliged to you, Miss Sadie.”

“Do you like it, baby?” asked Viola with a broad smile.

“Yes’m!”

Miss Sadie ran around to the side of the table where he sat and took him in her arms and pressed him to her bosom and kissed him on the cheeks. Viola’s eyes darkened. She took him out of Miss Sadie’s arms saying, “Not that he deserved it. He runs off from home an’ acts like a hoodlum, an’ Mrs. Derby gives ’im crawdads an’ you go an’ buy ’im a pretty new suit. If things go on like this, this boy’ll end up
never
knowin’ the difference between right an’ wrong!”

“Tony’s just a boy, that’s all! Why I’d give anything on earth if’n I had a little boy like him!”

“Well, why don’t you just up an’ have one?” Rutherford asked.

“Rutherford Jones!” Viola exclaimed censoriously.

Miss Sadie sadly dropped her head. She discovered that her dress was open. She hid her bosom self-consciously.

“What did I say?” Rutherford exclaimed.

“Nothin’!” said Viola, turning tenderly to Miss Sadie. “We, we thank you very much for this nice suit an’ these pretty socks, too! I’ll-I-dress ’im all up in his new suit an’ his black shoes! They oughtta go just fine. An’ I’ll bring him over to show you when he’s all ready an’ ever’thin’.”

Miss Sadie stood silently, wavering now from side to side, as though she had not heard. Her lips moved silently. Like somebody praying, he thought. Her hands still fumbled clumsily at her bosom. For an instant it appeared as though she could not stay on her feet. Rutherford reached out to prevent her from falling, but Viola cut him with a sharp glance, and moved toward her herself.

“There, there, Miss Sadie, are you all right?”

“I was just wonderin’ if, if ’Mer’go could, could go with me to the circus next week. I done bought the tickets. Only, I ain’ got no little boy to take. Red, my
husband
, he’s just a little boy, but he don’ like to go nowhere, ’cept to bed with all the whores in town! Oh! ’scuse me, honey!” tenderly touching his head. She looked anxiously at Viola. “I’m awfully sorry, honey, talkin’ like that in front a the baby. I’d treat ’im nice, hones’ I would,” smiling dreamily, “just like he was my own li’l boy.”

“What’s the circus?” he asked.

“Hush,” said Viola. “Well, I don’ know yet, Miss Sadie. We’ll have to see. Anyway, there’s still plenty a time yet.”

“You be a good boy, baby,” said Miss Sadie, “an’ do like your momma tell you, an’ you kin come with me an’ see the clowns an’ lions an’ tigers an’ elephants an’ all kinds a strange an’ excitin’ things! Ain’ that right, Mrs. Jones?”

“We’ll see.”

“Unh-unh! The circus!” cried Rutherford. “You know, I forgot a-l-l about the circus.”

“I gotta git back now,” said Miss Sadie, touching her pursed lips with the tip of her forefinger. “ ’Fore he gits back. If he ever found out,” she whispered now, “he’d
kill
me!”

“It’ll be all right, Miss Sadie,” Viola whispered uneasily, pushing her gently through the toilet door. She fastened the latch, and looked at Rutherford with a slightly worried expression. He was talking to his son, his eyes were aglow:

“We usta go out an’ feed the elephants, Amerigo. Boy that was somethin’! We’d work like dogs, just to git in free!”

Viola folded the suit nicely, quietly, and laid it in the box, lulled by the sound of the circus.

“Your uncle Ruben took me once,” she murmured softly. “If he hadn’ died, been killed, I’d a been to the circus every year.”

“I remember that blue dress your momma got once,” said Rutherford, “an’ those paten’-leather shoes that Aunt Rose bought ’er on sale at Jew Mary’s.”

Gradually the hands that had been tying the cord around the box — looping it carefully over the corners and drawing the ends toward the center — began untying it. Presently the box was open again, and the rose tissue paper in which the suit was wrapped laid neatly aside. She took the suit in her hands and caressed the soft velvet gently. She laid the green silk upon her smooth black arm.

“Sure is pretty, ain’ it?” said Rutherford.

She’s prettier than everybody in the whole world! thought Amerigo.

“He’ll look fine in it,” she said: “Just like me.”

“Ha! ha! I kin just see ’im on the way to school, an’ somebody askin’: Whose little boy is that?”

“An’ I’ll say, My name is Amerigo Jones an’ my momma’s name is Viola Jones an’ my father’s name is Rutherford Jones an’ I live at six-nineteen Cosy Lane, third floor, south — Garr’son three-three-eight — five!” He grinned with pleasure.