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Authors: Christopher Paul Curtis

The Mighty Miss Malone (19 page)

BOOK: The Mighty Miss Malone
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Me and Mother sat in the back of the car.

Jimmie and Marvelous Marvin loaded all of our things
in what Jimmie called the trunk. It wasn’t like any trunk I’d ever seen, it was really only a door that raised up at the back of the car.

The trunk door slammed shut and both me and Mother jumped.

I had never been inside a automobile except for Mr. Steel Lung’s truck. But this car, this car was amazing!

The seats were made of a brown cloth more beautiful and softer than anything I’d ever seen. There was a brown carpet on the floor and more of the brown material on the ceiling of the car. This automobile was the kind of place that you felt like you should wipe your feet two or three times or even take your shoes off before you got into it.

There was even a radio!

The middle of the steering wheel spelled out B-U-I-C-K. I’d have to ask Jimmie how to pronounce that later.

I looked at Mother to see if she was as excited and amazed as me, but she’d crossed her arms and was staring sadly out of the window at our old house. I did the same.

Jimmie and the numbers man got in the car and Marvelous Marvin said to Mother, “I know you must be very proud of little Jimmie here, Miss Malone.…”

Mother never looked away from the window. “It’s
Mrs
. Malone.”

“Sorry, ma’am. But I ain’t never heard no one, kid, grown or otherwise, who can sing like him. Yeah, the little man’s marvelous, absolutely marvelous.”

Jimmie stretched and looked over the back of the front seat at us, his eyebrows jumping up and down. He could see that
Mother wasn’t very impressed and I was giving him my angriest look. He turned around.

Marvelous Marvin said, “Y’all mind if I fire up a square?”

Jimmie translated, “Is it OK if he smokes, Ma?”

Me and Mother said, “No!”

“Cool.”

“Yeah,” Jimmie said, “that’s cool.”

We stayed quiet for most of the ride. But my goodness, what a ride! Mr. Steel Lung’s truck was nothing but bump after bump, this car was like a magic carpet! We floated all the way through Gary heading west. We drove further and further.

Jimmie laughed. “Did you see that, Deza?”

I looked at Mother but she was staring out of the window, lost.

“What?”

“Those signs on the side of the road. There are five of them in a row and they got poems on ’em.”

“Poems?”

Jimmie said, “Yeah, poems. Nothing like the ones Pa makes up, but at least these rhyme. Look! There’s more of ’em coming up.”

Marvelous Marvin said, “Oh, yeah, them’s Burma-Shave signs, that’s what I use to keep my skin soft as a baby’s behind.”

He rubbed his hand over his chin, it looked like he was wearing nail polish!

I told him, “I don’t think I’d like to be compared to anybody’s behind.”

Mother slapped my hand. “Deza, hush.”

Jimmie said, “Here comes one!”

It was a skinny red sign on a post at the side of the road. Jimmie read,

“When driving the roads …”

The next sign was a bit further along.

“Keep your hand in the car …”

Then,

“Or it may end up …”

Next,

“In some doctor’s jar!”

Me and Jimmie and Marvelous Marvin shouted the last sign out,

“Burma-Shave!”

We burst out laughing. Except for Mother.

Jimmie read the next signs,

“He chose not to shave …

With our famous brand …

That’s why he’s known as …

The loneliest man!”

Everyone but Mother shouted, “
Burma-Shave
!”

Before long Jimmie said, “Dang, Marv, where’s this house at?”

Marvin said, “Chi-town, baby.”

Mother said, “
Chicago
?”

“Yes, ma’am. We got another ten, fifteen minutes. This
gal’s from Gary, but she wanted to stay near her momma in Chi-town. She shares a place with her sister, who’s out of town for a while, so I convinced her to put y’all up till then.”

Mother shook her head and looked back out of the window.

We stopped in front of a house that was just as nice as the automobile.

The numbers man said, “Home again, home again, jiggity-jig.”

On the front porch, Mr. Marvelous knocked. The door opened and a soft, sweet smell whooshed out.

Chapter Twenty
The Girl in the Mirror

The woman who answered the door was strikingly beautiful and long-limbed and dressed in a flowing robe that looked like a orange cloud had left the skies and was floating around her legs.

She smiled and hugged Jimmie. “Little Jimmie! I know you from the park! I love your voice, poppa!”

Mother was so mortifried that I thought she was going to swoon.

The woman told the numbers man, “I’m only doing this because it’s Little Jimmie’s family. You already dumped that Carter woman and her brat in the basement and that’s that. This ain’t no hotel or no orphanage neither.”

Marvelous Marvin said, “Woman, please.”

She pointed at me. “I’d best not catch you snooping round my sister’s room neither.”

My second brain said, “Kiddo, one punch and she’s down for the count.”

Mother said, “We won’t be a bother, ma’am. We’ll be out of here as quick as we can. Thank you for having us.”

The woman snorted and pointed at a closed door. “That’s where y’all’s staying. Cynthia’s only gonna be gone for a week so don’t get too comfy. Little Jimmie can sleep on the couch.”

“Thank you very much.” Mother pushed me toward the room. Inside she leaned against the door and put her hand over her eyes.

It was the most beautiful room I’d ever been in! It was like it came out of a magazine! The bed had fancy blankets and fancy pillows and the lampshades were pink and frilly and everything matched, even the curtains! There was a small low desk with a little chair in front of it. A long tall mirror was in the middle of the desk. Sitting on the desk was a bunch of exquisite different-color little bottles with gold tops and rubber bulbs held to their sides by a little skinny piece of hose, looking like gigantic diamonds or rubies! There was also a picture of a beautiful woman and a little boy in a gold frame.

“Oh, Mother!”

She wasn’t as impressed as me.

“Be careful, Deza, all of this nonsense is very expensive.”

“What are those bottles?”

“They’re called atomizers, you squeeze the rubber bulb and it shoots out a mist of perfume.”

Mother went to the desk and picked up one of the bottles. She sniffed the top.

“I can’t believe it, they’re living just as well as the Carsdales. On second thought, I do believe it, both they and the Carsdales live off of poor people’s nickels and dimes.”

“Can I smell one?”

“Of course, dear.”

I walked over to the desk and reached for the darkest blue bottle.

I closed my eyes and brought it to my nose.

Yuck! It was too strong, like kerosene and flowers mixed together.

Something caught my eye.

I said, “Oh!”

A little girl was staring at me.

I put the beautiful blue bottle in my left hand and brought my right hand to my face.

The girl’s cheeks were hollow and her face was thin. She was doing the same thing I was.

Her dress was clean but raggedy-looking.

Her hair was neatly braided and greased.

Her left hand was touching her cheek.

Her mouth was open a little bit like she was saying, “Oh!”

She had a beautiful blue perfume bottle in her right hand.

Her eyes were tired and sad and she stared right back at me.

Over the girl’s shoulder Mother was sitting on the bed with her face in both of her hands.

I looked back into the girl’s sad brown eyes.

“Well, kiddo, what do you think?”

I bit down on my back teeth and the girl’s face twisted in pain.

I couldn’t look away.

There was a knock and Mother looked at me and whispered, “Deza! Quick! Put that back.”

She called, “Come in.” I put the atomizer back and turned around as the door opened.

Jimmie closed the door behind him and his eyebrows were jumping all over his forehead. He was smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Well,” he whispered, “Pretty cool, huh?”

Mother reached out and slapped Jimmie’s cheek hard! “How dare you? How
dare
you?”

“What?” Jimmie said.

Mother reared her hand up again but stopped. “How dare you associate with this criminal? What do you do when you’re supposed to be at school? Do you think your father and I raised you to be in the company of people like this?”

“Mother!” I said.

Jimmie said, “What? I didn’t do nothing wrong. Nothing!”

“How do you know that man well enough to have him put us up?”

“I told you, when I sing in the park lots of people listen to me.”

“So this is the kind of life you want to live? All fancy and big-shot like this? Driving around in a brand-new Buick? Wearing trashy clothes? If Roscoe Malone saw this he’d strangle both you and that man!”

Jimmie busted out in full tears. “I ain’t done nothing wrong, he just likes my singing.”

Mother grabbed his shoulders. “Don’t you see this is how it starts? Don’t you see one minute you’re carrying a straight razor and the next it’s a gun? Or do you already have one?”

“Ma, I swear, I don’t do nothing wrong. I only went to him ’cause we didn’t have nowhere else to go and he always said I should look him up if I needed something.”

“Jimmie, this is how young men get trapped. You think he’s doing you any
favors
? You’ll owe him. I guarantee he’ll have you doing little things for him in no time. I guarantee.…”

Jimmie wiped at his eyes. “Ma, how come you always think I’m gonna do wrong? I know what’s right, he’s been trying for the longest to get me to run numbers for him, I always said no, I ain’t stupid. I was only keeping my word to Pa, I was only trying to look out for you and Deza.”

He pulled away from Mother. “You don’t give me credit for nothing. Nothing!”

He turned, walked out of the door and closed it softly.

Mother sagged onto the bed and I sat beside her. We hugged each other.

I got up and put my hand on the doorknob. “Mother?”

“Go ahead, Deza, bring him back, I don’t want either of you leaving this room.”

I heard squeals and giggles coming from the backyard. A girl about six or seven years old was getting pushed in a swing by a woman. Jimmie was sitting on another swing.

The girl dragged her feet so the swing stopped. “Are you Jimmie’s sister?”

“Yes, my name’s Deza.”

Her nose twisted. “That’s a funny name. My name’s Eppie, but my real name is Epiphany.”

I said, “That’s a beautiful name, it means you’re like a light coming on all of a sudden.”

The little girl had a very fresh mouth. “You’ve got a weird name and don’t know nothing, I’m named after a song, not no light.”

Jimmie said, “ ‘Sarah’s Epiphany’?”

The woman said, “How’d you know that song?”

I said, “He’s a singer, ma’am, he knows just about every song in the world.”

“Y’all from Chicago?”

“No, ma’am, we’re from Gary.”

“You must be kin to Marvin or that sad excuse for a woman.”

“No, ma’am, we’re just staying here for a few days before we get a ride to Flint.”

“In Michigan?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s north of here, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ooh, girl, how old you think I am? You gotta quit calling me ma’am. I’m Miss Carter.”

“Sorry, Miss Carter.”

“Flint anywhere near Detroit?”

“It’s geologically located sixty miles northwest of Detroit.”

“So y’all are going through Detroit to get to Flint.”

“I think so.”

“Who’s carrying you to Michigan?”

Jimmie said, “I might ask Marvin how much he’d charge to take us in that big Buke.”

She started pushing Eppie again. “Don’t do it. The sooner you get away from that character the better. But if you hear of someone else going that way let me know. There’s suppose to be lots of work in Detroit.”

BOOK: The Mighty Miss Malone
8.03Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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