Raymond was an artist. He always said that a poor man has got to work with flesh and blood. ‘Po’ man ain’t got time t’be worryin’ bout finery, Ease; po’ man cain’t even watch his own ass, ‘cause you know if you so much as flinch down here that’s all she wrote fo’ you.’
I kept fading out and coming awake again to see Mouse sitting there, wringing his hands and thinking. Finally I opened my eyes and he was gone. That’s when the fever set in and I was lost.
We were running out of the slaughterhouse and everybody was yelling. One man grabbed my father but he sent that man to the floor. Another man came up and he went down too. I noticed then that the rest yelled but they kept their distance.
We ran out into the truck yard in front of the building and down an alley. My father had picked me up into his arms and he was running fast. You could see the fear in his face, and that fear is what I remembered most. A scared little colored man with a child in his arms; the world shaking up and down like it was about to break apart and we were panting like dogs on the run.
Only dogs are hunters and we were hunted.
We ran down to the stream, where we had been trawling for crayfish not three days before, and fell into a heap. My father was breathing so hard that his throat sang.
‘You gotta run up home, Ezekiel,’ he said to me. ‘You gotta go up the back way an’ get yo’ momma an’ them an’ go down t’Momma Lindsay’s. You hear me, Ezekiel?’
‘Yes, Daddy.’
‘I love you, boy.’
‘Where you be?’
‘I gotta run right now, son. I don’t know where I end up but I tell ya when I get there.’
‘You gonna come get us?’
He said, ‘Take care’a yo’self, boy,’ then he kissed me on the lips and hurried me on my way. And then I was a man running down the path yelling for my mother but never getting there.
There was something tickling my stomach. I looked down and saw a white cloth taped to my belly; it was writhing against me. I reached out to pull it away but a big black hand grabbed my hand and tied it to the bedpost.
My mother and I sat in the parlour of Momma Lindsay’s house. My mother was on a chair and I was sprawled out on the couch. I was thirsty and she had made lemonade. Everything was natural except that a line of black ants ran down from the arm of her chair, they seemed to be coming from her clothes, and I was a full-grown man - I knew that she had been dead for many years.
‘Where’s Daddy, Momma?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know, honey,’ she said. She was smiling at me with so much love...
‘But I wanna know where he gone. He said he gonna come get us.’
She just kept on smiling, nodding slightly. The ants had cut across her forehead and they made a sound like bees buzzing.
Out of the window there were clothes on the line. The wind was blowing hard and they snapped so violently that I was afraid they’d blow off completely.
Then I’d have no clothes to wear.
I was aware of being naked on the couch so I sat up and crossed my legs. I was hoping that Momma would leave so I could go save my clothes before they blew away. But she just kept smiling at me with the ants all over her and the buzzing coming louder and louder.
I was running out into the bright and windy day; all my clothes had blown away. I ran full out in an open grassy field. The blades of grass beat against my bare ankles, pelicans and gulls glided far above.
‘What you callin’ fo’, honey?’ a voice asked.
‘My daddy!’ I yelled, not like a man at all.
‘Where is he, Easy?’
‘He’s gone,’ I said and then the world started to cry. Everything was tears and crying. I was so thirsty that I started sticking my tongue out and praying for rain. But the rain didn’t come.
‘Easy, you cain’t be worried ‘bout every little thing,’ Mouse was saying. We were in my house drinking beer from green quart bottles.
“Cause a po’ man ain’t got that kinda a lux’ry. Shit! If all you got is two po’k chops an’ ten chirren what you gonna do?’
I waited for him to answer the question but he didn’t. He just stood up and walked out of the house. He was laughing to himself. I could feel the sweat pouring down my face.
Chapter 12
‘Res’ now, Easy,’ Jo said.
She was swaying in a homemade rocker at the foot of the bed; a giant mother in a child’s small room. The chair and the floor creaked as she moved forward and back.
There was vapour rising from behind her. The room was hot.
‘Water,’ I croaked. I didn’t even recognise my own voice.
When she rose I was filled with awe at the size and might of her. I remembered the armadillos and that severed head. It was nighttime again and felt like I was back in the bayou, out behind those stunted pears.
She lifted my head to pour water into my mouth from a liquor bottle. She’d tip a spoonful in and wait for me to swallow, then she’d pour another one. When the water hit my empty stomach I got small cramps that quivered down through the intestines. But I didn’t complain - the water tasted too good for any complaints.
‘You been real sick, baby. Ev’rybody been worried. Dom an’ Mouse an’ li’l ole Ernestine. You had us all goin’.’
‘How long?’
‘It’s just been twenty-four hours but it was close. If I had come in the next morning rather than right after Sunday school we’d be plannin’ yo’ funeral right now. It’s been comin’ on ya for a few days. Miss Alexander say you was drinkin’ an’ I was mad that she let you do it.’
When she stroked my face I felt the rasp of my stubble against her hand.
I fell asleep with my head on her lap.
Later I woke up and she was still cradling me. I was so happy then.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
She grinned at me. ‘Baby, you better rest some more. The fever gone but you still weak, it could come back, and it’s always harder gettin’ rid’a it the second time.’
‘What is it?’
‘I seen it before. It’s a kind of poison that gets in ya an’ acks like grippe but it ain’t. You gotta use some old-time medicine to get that. Lucky you got ole Momma Jo t’fix ya.’
I pressed my head against her thigh and she smiled down on me like she had smiled down on Raymond when I first saw her in the woods.
When I woke again it was night. Jo was rocking and embroidering. I thought it was strange that a woman like her would take up needle and thread.
‘Could I have some water please, Jo?’ I said.
‘How you doin’, Easy?’ She brought me the liquor bottle.
‘Fine.’
‘You lookin’ good. I guess we gonna have you a li’l while longer, huh?’
‘I guess.’ I raised myself to be fed the water and then laid back.
There was still vapour rising from behind the rocker. I must’ve been staring at it because Jo said, ‘Just some herbs in water on a oil burner. Keeps it warm inside and keeps yo’ lungs dear so you don’t get pneumonia. You feel like you can have some broth, baby?
I wasn’t hungry but I said yes, I needed some strength. I felt the life coming into me.
Not exactly the same life I’d almost left behind.
When Jo came back Miss Alexander stuck her head in the door and smiled. ‘Hi, Easy,’ she said. ‘Glad to see you feelin’ better.’
Jo had a steaming bowl of beef broth with a big shank bone in it.
She propped me on her knee and fed me spoon by spoon.
‘You seen Mouse?’ I asked her.
‘Oh yeah,’ she said reluctantly. ‘He been around. He tole me t’tell you that he’d be ready t’go when you feel better.’