They Tell Me of a Home: A Novel (20 page)
Read They Tell Me of a Home: A Novel Online
Authors: Daniel Black
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Literary, #United States, #Women's Fiction, #Domestic Life, #Contemporary Fiction, #American, #Literary Fiction, #African American, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Psychological
The question should have been easily answered, but it was not. “Yes, I do,” I reconciled after a moment. “No need to harbor the secret any longer.”
“Good,” David said, relieved. “Momma would like that.”
I got almost to the front door when he announced, “Thomas, I’m glad to finally meet my little brother. I hope we stay in touch.”
“Let’s promise we will. For Ms. Swin … for … Momma.”
“Deal.”
I left jovial and excited that, for the first time since I arrived, my coming home had proven gratifying.
When
I arrived at the old Whitcomb place, it was after one o’clock and I noticed, either to my chagrin or to my relief, Willie James had almost finished cutting the entire field of hay. Bobbing up and down on the old tractor, he scrutinized me, shaking his head in complete disgust. There was no way I could justify my tardiness. I couldn’t tell him I had met my older brother from Detroit and we had spent the morning hours reminiscing about what our mother wrote in her journals. First of all, Willie James wouldn’t believe me. And second of all, even if he did, the fact remained that he had done all the work in the hay field without me. Either way, my actions confirmed Willie James’s notion that I was simply a sorry-ass nigga.
I arrived at the old Whitcomb place, it was after one o’clock and I noticed, either to my chagrin or to my relief, Willie James had almost finished cutting the entire field of hay. Bobbing up and down on the old tractor, he scrutinized me, shaking his head in complete disgust. There was no way I could justify my tardiness. I couldn’t tell him I had met my older brother from Detroit and we had spent the morning hours reminiscing about what our mother wrote in her journals. First of all, Willie James wouldn’t believe me. And second of all, even if he did, the fact remained that he had done all the work in the hay field without me. Either way, my actions confirmed Willie James’s notion that I was simply a sorry-ass nigga.
“What happened this time?” he yelled, rounding the corner for the last strip of hay left standing in the field.
“Long story! You wouldn’t believe it anyway!” I screamed back. He chuckled and mumbled inaudibly. I stood there and watched the green moody grass Willie James had cut slowly turnin’ golden brown in the sun. It was thick. This meant lots of hay bales, which, of course, meant food for Daddy’s cows and several large round bales to
sell. Maybe Willie James would make a little pocket change, I thought, and come visit me in New York or wherever later in the year, but on second thought, I knew better. Willie James had gotten used to the entire world being contained in Swamp Creek. Anything outside of the ordinary would shift his world too drastically. Even as a child, once Willie James learned a rule, he never apprehended how to accommodate its exception. Like the time Ms. Swinton told him
“i
before
e
except after c.” He said he understood. He knew if the “
i
/
e
dilemma” came after any other consonant, the correct spelling was ie. One day, on a weekly spelling test, Willie James spelled
seize
“sieze,” confident the rule had helped him pass the exam. When he got it back and saw that he had misspelled the word, he was dismayed.
sell. Maybe Willie James would make a little pocket change, I thought, and come visit me in New York or wherever later in the year, but on second thought, I knew better. Willie James had gotten used to the entire world being contained in Swamp Creek. Anything outside of the ordinary would shift his world too drastically. Even as a child, once Willie James learned a rule, he never apprehended how to accommodate its exception. Like the time Ms. Swinton told him
“i
before
e
except after c.” He said he understood. He knew if the “
i
/
e
dilemma” came after any other consonant, the correct spelling was ie. One day, on a weekly spelling test, Willie James spelled
seize
“sieze,” confident the rule had helped him pass the exam. When he got it back and saw that he had misspelled the word, he was dismayed.
“I thought you said i comes before
e
except after c!” he protested to Ms. Swinton.
e
except after c!” he protested to Ms. Swinton.
“Then the rule ain’t no rule at all! You just gotta learn how to spell everything by itself!”
“I guess one could see it that way,” Ms. Swinton offered sympathetically.
Willie James decided then that he’d never be a good speller because the rules simply didn’t make sense.
I sat on the ground underneath a nearby persimmon tree and waited on him to finish the last lap. Ants were busy gathering food and taking it into their little mound. I picked up a stick and scattered their dirt fortress to see how the ants would react. They panicked. Some ran north and others south as they tried frantically to right the wrong I had committed. I was intrigued by the speed and diligence with which the ants worked to reestablish communal balance and harmony. Only a second or two passed before they slowed once again and resumed their normal living arrangement. Amazingly, they were absolutely unconcerned with the source of their disturbance. They did what they needed to do in order to protect themselves, regardless of who originated the mayhem among them. “Brilliant,” I whispered.
“We oughta be like them,” Willie James noted, wiping sweat from his face. He had parked the tractor and walked over to where I was sitting without my noticing.
“I didn’t see you walk up,” I returned, slightly startled.
Willie James peered at me sadly. “At least you see me. Usually people don’t see me.”
He sat on the ground next to me and leaned back in the grass as he sighed heavily. “I’m tired o’ dis shit, man,” he said distressfully.
“I feel you,” I consoled him.
“You was smart. You got outta here years ago. I don’t blame you fu’ dat.” Willie James patted my shoulder condescendingly.
“You could have left, too. Daddy nem would’ve been OK without you.” My words didn’t come out right.
“Yeah, they probably would have, but I never had the balls to leave. Too scared, I suppose.”
“Scared of what?”
“Myself. I always knew, if I left, I wasn’t comin’ back. I stayed here to keep from runnin’ so far away I couldn’t find my way home.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“You’ll understand if you think about it.” Willie James started playing with the same anthill.
“I am thinking about it, and I still don’t understand. Explain it to me.”
“Uhh … ,” Willie James began demurely, eyes never meeting mine. He had been waiting a lifetime to express the thought, it seemed, and all he wanted was an interested ear. “Remember how we used to cuss Daddy out behind his back and sware when we got eighteen we was gon’ leave? I intended to keep that promise. When my eighteenth birthday came round though, I got scared’cause I hated the place bad enough never to come back if I left. I wasn’t confused about my feelings; I jes’ couldn’t imagine starting life all over again someplace else. See, I always knew I hated this place more than you did. You were jes’ mad people didn’t love you. If they loved you right, you wouldn’t ever have left. Dammit, I actually hated this place. I’m
not bullshittin’. I thought you’d come back one day’cause you cared too much about what Momma nem thought about you, and you and Sister was jes’ too close fu’ you to leave and neva come home. I ain’t neva been close to nobody, so I ain’t had nothin’ to lose.”
not bullshittin’. I thought you’d come back one day’cause you cared too much about what Momma nem thought about you, and you and Sister was jes’ too close fu’ you to leave and neva come home. I ain’t neva been close to nobody, so I ain’t had nothin’ to lose.”
He shrugged his shoulders with a contradictory carelessness. “I was always de workhorse. Sunup till sundown, Willie James was sweatin’ fu’ somebody. I didn’t know nothin’ else, but I knowed I didn’t like it. I didn’t have no choice back then.”
“We sho’ didn’t!” I blurted.
“Man, come on, T.L. You ain’t neva been one fu’ no sweatin’! You dodged hard work every chance you got!” Willie James pursed his lips, daring me to challenge his declaration.
“What? Are you crazy? I worked hard, too, man. Just as hard as anybody else.” His assertion of my indolence offended me.
“Yeah, you worked a little bit,” he conceded, “but what you did most was read and write or whatever you liked.”
“Hell, yeah! That was the only way to survive this madness!”
“You right. Yet when you was readin’ or whatever, I was in the field. Day or night.”
“Why didn’t you do something you liked? At least every now and then?”
“’Cause I ain’t neva knowed what I liked. I wasn’t great at school, but I didn’t know nothin’ else to try. I jes’ kept workin’ ‘cause wasn’t nothin’ else for me to do. At least that’s what I thought back then. Now I’m too old to do anything else.”
“Why?” I grilled him with too much emphasis.
“’Cause I done fixed my mind to believe I can’t do nothin’ but farm. I mean, I believe I probably could do somethin’, but come on, I done settled into dis damn place, and I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I know dat.”
“Sounds like you don’t want to go anywhere. And that’s fine,” I portended insultingly.
“Dat ain’t what I’m sayin’, T.L. What I’m sayin’ is dat I always
wanted to leave, I jes’ didn’t have nothin’ to take wit’ me. I couldn’t sing, dance, write, or nothin’ else, so I had to stay in order to eat.”
wanted to leave, I jes’ didn’t have nothin’ to take wit’ me. I couldn’t sing, dance, write, or nothin’ else, so I had to stay in order to eat.”
“You could have learned a trade, Willie James, and done well for yourself. You might have had to struggle for a moment, but you would have made it. Most people do.”
“And some don’t,” he said emphatically. “Dat’s what scared me. Ain’t no way I was gon’ leave here and not make it and have to come back. I would be too ashamed and I would feel like nothin’. I’d die befo’ I let Daddy stare me in de face’cause I failed. He’d really treat me like shit then.”
“Sometimes you have to take a chance, man, if you want something badly enough,” I said, struggling strenuously to inspire him.
“It ain’t dat bad here,” Willie James defended himself, avoiding my attempt to make him see otherwise. He demolished the anthill with a stick. “A man can make a livin’ anywhere, huh?”
“Some can. And some have to go somewhere else to make theirs.”
“You right, li’l brother. You right.”
We sat in silence for a while, watching the ants reestablish their community. Truth be known, they simply averted our eyes from each other.
“Sister was pregnant with a boy.”
“How you know?” I asked coolly, trying not to rush Willie James’s willingness.
“’Cause dat’s what she told me. She said you was comin’ back to her one way or another and maybe God was sendin’ you back through her li’l baby boy. I asked her how she know it was a boy and she said she could feel it.”
“My God.”
“Yep, she was gon’ give birth to a li’l baby boy.”
Willie James paused awkwardly and continued investigating the ants for anwers he could not find.
“What happened to the baby, Willie James?” I pressed softly.
“I don’t know exactly. Like I tole you de other day, I came home
from de field one day and saw the fresh mound o’ dirt and wondered what it was. I asked Momma about it when I went in de house and she said, ‘Yo’ sista died today; we buried her today.’ She started cryin.’ I said, ‘What?’ And she said, ‘You heard me, boy! Now I got enough on me!’ I went outside and stood over the grave and started cryin’ a li’l bit myself. I was real sad, T.L. I was confused, too, but I didn’t wanna make Momma mo’ upset by askin’ her mo’ questions. I stayed by de grave and stared in de sky all night long. I neva got sleepy and I neva said nothin’ to nobody’bout it. I stared in de sky talkin’ to God till de sun come up de next mornin’.
from de field one day and saw the fresh mound o’ dirt and wondered what it was. I asked Momma about it when I went in de house and she said, ‘Yo’ sista died today; we buried her today.’ She started cryin.’ I said, ‘What?’ And she said, ‘You heard me, boy! Now I got enough on me!’ I went outside and stood over the grave and started cryin’ a li’l bit myself. I was real sad, T.L. I was confused, too, but I didn’t wanna make Momma mo’ upset by askin’ her mo’ questions. I stayed by de grave and stared in de sky all night long. I neva got sleepy and I neva said nothin’ to nobody’bout it. I stared in de sky talkin’ to God till de sun come up de next mornin’.
“When I went in de house fu’ breakfast, Momma and Daddy was actin’ real funny. I didn’t say nothin’ to neither one o’ dem, but I could tell dat somethin’ wasn’t right. Befo’ Daddy left, he said, ‘Keep yo’ mouf shet, boy,’ and went on his way. As scared as I was, dey didn’t have to worry’bout me sayin’ nothin’. I did wanna know what happened, though. I jes’ decided to keep my eyes and ears open extra hard in case I saw or heard somethin’ suspicious.
“When I came home fu’ lunch dat day, wasn’t nobody home. That was strange’cause you know Momma don’t neva go nowhere. I ain’t think much of it till I see her through de kitchen window walkin’ through de field like she comin’ from back in de woods. She was walkin’ kinda fast, you know, kinda nervous-like, so I went out de front do’ as she was comin’ in de back. She neva knowed I was there’cause I didn’t eat nothin’.”
“Where was she coming from?” I frowned, both interested and confused.
“I’m’bout to tell you dat, man, but you can’t say a word to nobody.” Willie James awaited my confirmation of secrecy. I nodded.
“When I left out de front, I snuck back into de woods where it looked like she was comin’ from. I glanced around fu’ a while and didn’t see nothin’. Then I noticed one o’ Daddy’s cows sniffin’ somethin’ over by de back fence. I walked over to look and see what de cow was looking at and dat’s when I saw de li’l dead baby. It was blue
and red and had dried blood all over it. I knowed it was dead’cause it looked dead. It was real little! I coulda held it in one hand easy. It wasn’t wrapped in nothin’. It was jes’ layin’ on de ground like somebody throwed it out. I was scared ‘cause I ain’t neva seen nothin’ like dat befo’. I bent down and turned it over with a stick and de baby looked like it was smilin’. I dropped de stick and ran like ninety goin’ north. I wanted to go tell somebody, but I didn’t know who. It was all so crazy dat I thought folks might think I was losin’ it. I jes’ ran until I got tired and fell out by de creek behind de woods. I was shakin’ like a leaf, man, and cryin’’cause I didn’t know what else to do. I knowed Momma had somethin’ to do wit’ it, but I couldn’t put nothin’ together dat made sense. After I calmed down a li’l bit, I decided to go back and bury de li’l baby. I knowed it was Sista’s. It couldn’t o’ been nobody else’s. But when I got back, de baby was gone.”
and red and had dried blood all over it. I knowed it was dead’cause it looked dead. It was real little! I coulda held it in one hand easy. It wasn’t wrapped in nothin’. It was jes’ layin’ on de ground like somebody throwed it out. I was scared ‘cause I ain’t neva seen nothin’ like dat befo’. I bent down and turned it over with a stick and de baby looked like it was smilin’. I dropped de stick and ran like ninety goin’ north. I wanted to go tell somebody, but I didn’t know who. It was all so crazy dat I thought folks might think I was losin’ it. I jes’ ran until I got tired and fell out by de creek behind de woods. I was shakin’ like a leaf, man, and cryin’’cause I didn’t know what else to do. I knowed Momma had somethin’ to do wit’ it, but I couldn’t put nothin’ together dat made sense. After I calmed down a li’l bit, I decided to go back and bury de li’l baby. I knowed it was Sista’s. It couldn’t o’ been nobody else’s. But when I got back, de baby was gone.”
“What? Are you serious?” I said in total disbelief.
“Yep. It was gone. I looked all around de place where I had saw it, but it was gone. I don’t know if Momma came back and got it or if a wild fox or somethin’ took it off and ate it or what, but it was gone sho’’nuff.”
“Willie James! You have to be lyin’!”
“Naw I ain’t. You de onlyest somebody I done told dis to; now don’t say nothin’ to nobody’bout it.”
“I won’t, Willie James, but this is unreal! You sure you saw a baby?”
“Hell yeah, I’m sure!” Willie James screamed. “I ain’t stupid. I know a baby when I see one. And it was a boy, too. When I turned it ova, I saw dat. Sista was right, I said to myself. But I couldn’t figure out why somebody had thowed him away.”
“Man, I must be going utterly insane!” I said as I rose and paced the earth.
“Nope, ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. Now, don’t go gettin’ yo’self all worked up’cause then you been done said somethin’ to somebody and I’ll be in a heap o’ trouble. Sit down and be cool.”
“Be cool? Willie James, this is murder we talkin’’bout!”
“No, it ain’t. We don’t know what happened to dat baby. I don’t know how it got in dem woods. Since I saw Momma comin’ from dat direction, I thought she probably had somethin’ to do wit’ it. And she probably did, but I don’t know what. We can’t start accusin’ folks’cause we ain’t got no proof o’ nothin’. There ain’t even no baby no mo’.”
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