The Compass (6 page)

Frederick, who had been standing nearby, sat down and joined the conversation. “You want to know how I got past the anger and the fear, Rudy? It took me decades. I started out the other day asking you if you ever heard of the civil rights movement. That was a big part of my healing, and so was meeting my wife, Estelle, who helped me out of the darkness. In the years following my father’s murder, I became quiet, introverted, kind of a loner, and was angry inside, but I didn’t want any trouble, didn’t want to draw any kind of attention to myself. I also made myself a promise that I was going to get my momma and me out of that godforsaken place if it was the last thing I did. I directed my energies on school and became an honor student, and I worked however many jobs it would take to get me through college. I was a teacher—I’ll bet you didn’t know that about me, did you, Rudy? Taught high school English and literature for thirty five years.”

“You were a teacher?” Rudy asked incredulously. Frederick, a teacher and married? There were a lot of surprises about Frederick. Rudy thought he had him sized up as just an old man with a garden; now it felt a bit funny to him that he would be sitting having lunch with a teacher.

“Yes, sir, and I loved every day of it. Each day, I had a chance to mold the thinking of young people like you; try to get them to understand that we are all equal, that anyone can be a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher if they want it badly enough, that no one is better or worse than the next guy. I had the chance to show them different perspectives, experiences and different points of view. Reading and literature can do that: open doors, make you see things differently, allow you to get into another person’s head, see what makes them tick.”

Frederick continued. “Have you ever read
To
Kill
a
Mockingbird
? You’re old enough. You tell your momma to get you that book. It will open your eyes; not only validate the story I told you but also show you that there are people like Atticus Finch in the world. I always thought if I had had a son, I would name him Atticus.”

Rudy still didn’t understand how any of this had kept Frederick sane, from going out and seeking revenge. Why he hadn’t exploded with rage?

“I don’t understand how all this helped you after… .” Rudy looked away, the words fading.

“I was angry for a time, but then came the change—in the world and in me. Now, I know you have heard of Dr. Martin Luther King.”

Rudy nodded, of course he had. Frederick must think he didn’t know anything.

“Well, I met Dr. King, shook his hand.”

Rudy listened wide-eyed. Frederick knew him?

“It was one of the proudest days of my life. I can’t say we were personal friends, but one day he came right up to me in a crowd, grabbed my hand, shook it, and thanked me for coming to the marches. It gives me chills to think of it even after all these years. Imagine you meeting the President of the United States. It was like that.

“He started the change. He was what you would call a catalyst of change. He altered the trajectory not just of the black man but of all men. He was there at the beginning, helping change come. I used to go and listen to him speak, met Estelle at one of the rallies. Oh, you would have liked her. She was a wonderful woman; got me back on track, found a softness inside of me again.”

Frederick paused and seemed to suddenly travel to a place only he could see. A smile crossed his face. Rudy wished he could see what his mind was seeing. Coming back from that long time ago, Frederick continued.

“Soon after the first time I heard him, I started marching with him. Do you know what I found out? There were white people walking with me—sometimes arm in arm. They weren’t all like the mill owner. I discovered that there were a lot of people who were now brave enough to come forward and say things were wrong. Black people started to stand up and say, ‘I’m not sitting in the back of the bus anymore,’ ‘I’m going to go to the same school as white kids,’ ‘I’m going to sit at a counter in a restaurant and expect service,’ and governments were starting to listen. Jack and Bobby Kennedy made changes along with Dr. King. That was quite a team, but of course, we know what happened to them.

“Those years were some of the most hopeful and exhilarating; you could feel changes happening while you lived it. Have you ever seen one of those time-elapsed movies where you see a flower opening up, or the seasons changing over a landscape? Well, that’s what it was like for all of us who lived during that time. Everything seemed to be happening fast, and we were watching history before our very eyes. Yes, sir. Now this might sound like a contradiction, but sometimes in the moment, it didn’t seem so fast. When we heard about the deaths of Jack Kennedy, then Dr. King, and finally Bobby Kennedy… well, it just about took the wind out of our sails. So much tragedy, but I guess they completed the work the good Lord had in mind. Things were never the same again—in a good way. Yes, I’d have to say that those men accomplished their mission.”

Sighing deeply, he continued. “We’re not perfect yet, Rudy—lots of intolerance from lots of people—but at least now we know it is wrong.”

Rudy thought about his friends who thought everyone was inferior, below them. Maybe he had begun to think that way too, but now it wasn’t so clear. He didn’t think that way anymore—not after hearing Frederick’s tale, not after the park. Then he thought,
Look
at
me.
I’m
having
lunch
with
a
Jew,
an
Asian,
and
a
black
man.
He looked at these men gathered around this table and thought they were nice and not much different from him. They were older, of course, but they seemed to get it. He was beginning to like being with them, being included in their conversations. They were interesting, but they were also kind and respected each other despite their differences. Rudy’s friends would freak.

Frederick interrupted his thoughts, continuing. “I suppose my daddy’s death was just one example of the injustice those three men were fighting against. I see my daddy as being part of the struggle and coming out the victor, not that rich, white mill owner. During that time, listening to Dr. King and his message, I came to a reconcilement of what happened; not approval, not acquiescence, not apathy, mind you—never those things. Oh, I can tell you that at one time or another I did feel hatred, wanted to take revenge, considered violence, and had such deep sorrow, but I wanted desperately to be better than those men that killed my daddy. I did not want to become one of them. I wanted to be an instrument for good. God knows I’d seen enough evil in this world. So I prayed and prayed, and He heard me. At some point, a deeper understanding of humanity’s weaknesses and fears took hold, and I was able to turn that energy into something positive. I wanted to make a difference in the next generations’ lives through teaching, and I hope I influenced the young people in my classes. I did my best.”

With that, everyone was silent. Rudy sat there a bit uneasy, processing everything he had heard. Jacob seemed uncomfortable too, but Yoshito had that peaceful look of understanding written across his face.

After a time, Rudy asked, “What happened to your wife?”

“Ah, my dear Estelle. You think this garden is beautiful? Estelle would have put those roses over there to shame. She was the light of my life. We were married for thirty-three years. She died six years ago. She was a good woman; kept me sane and positive when I was down, encouraged me to work in the garden, and didn’t think I was crazy when I told her I heard my ancestors singing. Well, maybe at first she did, but when she saw I was serious, she just told me to get out in the garden and lift my voice with theirs and make a beautiful noise to heaven!” Frederick looked at Rudy, his seriousness turning to a smile.

“And there was no one, and I mean no one, who could make an apple rhubarb pie like her. Remember, fellas?” he asked, looking at Jacob and Yoshito for confirmation.

“You knew Estelle?” Rudy asked, somehow being surprised and feeling a bit left out.

Jacob and Yoshito nodded, smiling to themselves.

“Estelle was a wonderful woman. She could cook like you wouldn’t believe. Had us over for the holidays all the time—any excuse to feed us,” Jacob replied, smiling at Frederick.

“She and my wife, Grace, were very close. We always thought Estelle was very elegant,” Yoshito added.

Yoshito
was
married
too?
Rudy thought. He wondered about any surprise Jacob might have.

“Grace was a beautiful woman. Her name suited her,” Frederick added gently.

Yoshito nodded, and for the first time, Rudy thought he saw tears in Yoshito’s eyes. Seeing Rudy looking at him, Yoshito said, “I will tell you about Grace one day but not today. Today we must get back to work. My plants are waiting for me to satiate their thirst, and I can see you are making good progress on pulling down the fence.” Yoshito moved to get up.

“Well, here we go, eh, Rudy? Are you finished eating?” Jacob asked.

“Sure, thanks for lunch. It was really good.”

“
Domo
arigatou
gozaimasu
. That means thank you very much,” Yoshito replied with a slight bow.

“Come on, Rudy. Frederick returns to his singing, and Yoshito seeks better conversation with the ferns. Our work waits for no one but us,” Jacob said as he hoisted his body from the chair.

And so together they continued to pull down the fence inch by inch.

Chapter 7
 

Rudy let the screen door slam behind him when he went home that night, the same as he did every night.

“Rudy! How many times do I need to ask you not to slam doors around here?” Rudy’s mother stepped out from the kitchen to see her son walking past.

“Sorry, Mama.”

“How’s that fence coming?” She was hesitant to ask about it after all the fights they had had about him taking that job, but it had been several weeks now and she had to know. How he had resisted. She absolutely knew that she needed to get him away from those boys he had been hanging out with before school ended. They were up to no good; she could feel it in her bones.

“It’s okay.” That was a better response than she was expecting from her quiet and resistant son. How she worried about him, especially at this age, with no father figure to guide him.

She considered herself a good Christian woman, but lately, now that Rudy was becoming a teenager, she began to feel the same anger toward Rudy’s father that she had felt when he first left. This boy needed his father, although she was entirely sure that he would not be the role model she had believed him to be when she met and married him. How he had swept her off her feet with his sweet talking; “baby” this and “sweetheart” that. He was a big talker too. Made grandiose plans that she hung her hat on that never amounted to anything. He just liked to have fun, keep everything light, everybody laughing. She had loved that about him in the beginning.

But everything changed when she unexpectedly became pregnant. He became distant, stayed out and drank. He stuck it out for a while, and then one day, he was gone. Just like that. She didn’t have to wonder why. He had no patience for a baby or toddler and hated feeling weighed down with the responsibilities of fatherhood. How she could curse him! She didn’t even know if he was alive or dead after he moved away. He never bothered to keep in touch with his own flesh and blood. What kind of a man could just walk away like that?

She couldn’t count the number of times she had gotten down on her knees and begged the Lord to watch over and protect her son from bad influences, to make him a better man than his father. Yet, she wondered if it was possible with no examples to show him the way.

“Frederick and Jacob, are they nice, treating you okay?” she pushed.

“Yeah, they’re… they’re nice. Yoshito, too.”

Rudy’s mama was more than satisfied with that answer. The fights appeared to be over. She breathed a sigh of relief to herself.

Reluctantly she added, “Those boys were over here looking for you again today. I keep telling them you have a summer job, but they seem persistent.” She hated telling him. She didn’t want him to hang around with those kids, but she knew he would find out directly from them. “Said they would be over at the park tonight. I don’t think you should go out tonight, Rudy. Those boys are bound to be looking for trouble.”

“That’s okay. I think I’ll stay home. I don’t feel like going out tonight,” Rudy replied. He couldn’t go back to the park and couldn’t tell his mama why.

Rudy’s mama tried to control her shock. She had been waiting for an argument. Concerned, she asked, “You feeling okay? Everything all right?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired tonight. I worked really hard today, Mama.” That at least was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire reason. But he had dug out five feet of fence today—a new record for him—and he felt it in muscles he didn’t even know he had.

“Okay, Rudy. Well, go take a shower, and I’ll have some dinner for you when you get out.”

“Okay.” Rudy began walking in the direction of his room but stopped as he was turning the corner into the hallway. “Mama? You ever heard of a book called Killing Mockingbirds?”

“You mean,
To
Kill
a
Mockingbird
?” she asked confused. “Yes, I read it in high school. Why?”

“Just thought I might like to try to read it. Frederick mentioned it. No big deal.”

“I’ll pick up a copy at the library tomorrow. Now go on and take your shower.”

Rudy’s mama stared at the doorway where her son had stood a minute ago. She didn’t know what was happening to her son, where the combative young man had gone, and now he wanted to read for fun, out of curiosity? Whatever was happening, she liked it, and yes, it was a very big deal.