Perfect Peace (26 page)

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong wid him,” Authorly said.

“
Him
?”

“That’s what I said.”

“How she get to be a him? She was wearin’ dresses last week!” Other boys chuckled.

“It ain’t none o’ yo’ business, Snukey, so just leave it alone.”

“Oh, he must got a split
and
a ding-a-ling! So he can switch back and forth whenever he want to!”

Authorly pushed Snukey to the ground and pounced upon him. Children began screaming, afraid Authorly might hurt him.

W. C. came running. Snukey’s blood was dripping from his nose onto his good white Sunday shirt. “Cut that out, boys! I said, cut that out!” Gus hadn’t said anything. “You boys know better’n dat. Y’all on church ground!”

“He ain’t got no business talkin’ ’bout my li’l brother,” Authorly panted.

“That ain’t no boy! And if it is, he gon’ be a faggot the rest o’ his life!”

Authorly swung past W. C. and slammed his clenched fist against Snukey’s left ear. The ringing lingered for days.

“I said stop it! That’s enough! I don’t wanna hear nothin’ else ’bout it.” He handed Snukey a handkerchief. “You go on home, and I mean now. I’ll deal with you later. Authorly, you get wit’ yo’ folks and try to control yo’self.”

Authorly brushed the front of his overalls. The crowd murmured about the strangeness of things as Gus motioned for Authorly to get in the wagon.

Suddenly, Emma Jean said, “Y’all wanna know what happened?”

“Momma, no,” Authorly said. Gus didn’t try to stop her.

“Well, I’ll tell you!” she sassed, leaning on the wooden rail of the wagon. “I dressed him up as a girl ’cause I wanted one,” she shouted. “And that’s my business. All you need to know is that he”—she pointed to Paul—“is a boy now. I know how he used to look ’cause I made him look that way, and you can talk about me like a dog if you want to, but keep yo’ mouth closed ’bout my child. He didn’t have nothin’ to do with it. He always been a boy and he
gon’ always be one. If you gon’ chastise somebody, then chastise me, but keep yo’ filthy mouth off my chile!”

Most women didn’t try to conceal their horror. Miss Mamie said, “You did what?”

“You heard me! Now mind yo’ own business and act like the Christians y’all claim to be!”

Gus loaded the family into the wagon before anyone could question them further. He then nodded to W. C. and directed the mules down the narrow path toward home.

“Mister, y’all get the cows feed,” he said when they arrived. Everyone else went inside. When the task was complete, Mister and Paul saw Eva Mae approaching. Mister left them on the edge of the porch.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

Eva Mae sat beside Paul as though comforting him for his loss.

“What happened?”

Paul didn’t know where to begin. “Momma cut my hair off.”

“Yeah, I know. But why?”

He couldn’t say it, so he shrugged.

“Folks is sayin’ you ain’t no girl no more.”

Paul began to cry.

“Is that true?”

He nodded.

“Oh wow. That’s sorta weird.” She paused. “Who told you?”

“Momma.”

“Oh.” After another pause, Eva Mae asked, “Do you have a boy’s thing down there?”

“Un-huh.”

“For real?”

“Yeah.”

Eva Mae smiled. “It’s okay. I don’t care anyway.”

“You don’t?”

“Naw. You still my best friend. Right?”

“Okay.”

“And we can still play house. You’ll just have to be the husband now.”

“Okay.”

“And I can be the wife. It’ll still be fun.”

“Okay.”

Eva Mae hesitated. “People was talkin’ ’bout you after y’all left today. I told them to shut up. They said you wunnit never gon’ be right. Miss Mamie said you’d be a punk the rest o’ yo’ life. She said wunnit no way nobody like you was ever gon’ be a
real
boy.”

In his mind’s eye, Paul saw the look of disgust on Miss Mamie’s face.

“I don’t like those people anyway. They don’t know what they’re talkin’ about, huh?”

Paul shook his head, then added, “My daddy changed my name.”

“For real? Yo’ name ain’t Perfect no more?”

“Naw.”

“Then what is it now?”

“Paul.”

“
Paul?
” Eva Mae said, frowning. “I guess it’s okay. I liked Perfect though.”

“I did, too, but you can’t say it no more. I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay. Come on.” Eva Mae grabbed his hand.

He knew where they were going.

“It’s okay. You de husband now, so it’s all right.”

They disappeared beneath the house.

“Just sit down and relax,” Eva Mae said once they reached the corner. “The man ain’t s’pose to do nothin’ at home ’cept enjoy his wife.”

Paul sat and followed Eva Mae’s instructions.

“I kinda like you as a boy. You can take care o’ me now. That’s what men do. At least they s’pose to. My momma said so.”

“Authorly said men s’pose to work. He didn’t say they s’pose to do nothin’ else.”

“Well, they is. That’s why women marry ’em, so they can take care o’ ’em. Then the woman s’pose to do what he say.”

“My momma don’t do what my daddy say.”

“She s’pose to.”

“Well she don’t.”

Now Eva Mae shrugged. Then she brightened and said, “I peek and see my brother’s thing sometimes. It’s real big.”

Paul thought of Authorly.

“Can I see yours?”

“Huh?”

“Your thing. Can I see it?”

“Um, I don’t know. . . .”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think you s’pose to.”

“I seen my brother’s and didn’t nothin’ happen.”

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

“No it ain’t. Not really.”

They listened to the footsteps above them. Eva Mae moved closer to Paul and kissed him.

“It’s okay. You my husband now.”

Paul loved the taste of Eva Mae’s saliva. It reminded him of the nectar from the honeysuckle bloom. He leaned forward to kiss her again, and they kissed countless times before Eva Mae said, “Lean back and get comfortable.”

Paul complied, and before he realized what was happening, Eva Mae had unzipped the fly of his overalls.

He raised his torso.

“Just relax. My momma do this to my daddy all the time. I watch ’em sometimes.”

Paul felt Eva Mae’s mouth descend upon his penis. He yelped at first, then sighed as her lips massaged his private sensually. He loved the feeling, he discovered, and when she stopped, he wanted her to go on.

“Do you like that?” she asked, looking up.

Paul nodded, so Eva Mae repeated the act until his grunts and moans became audible.

“Shhhhhh,” she hissed. “We’ll get in trouble.”

Paul covered his mouth, muting his uncontrollable response. He never wanted her to stop.

She lifted her head and kissed him again. “I gotta go now.”

“Why?”

“ ’Cause Momma gon’ be lookin’ for me soon. And if your folks catch us, they ain’t gon’ let us play together no more.”

“I know.”

“Hey! I know what!”

“What?”

“Why don’t we meet someplace else, like the field of clovers? Nobody ever goes there and it’s real pretty. Lots of wildflowers and stuff.”

“Okay, but where’s it at?”

“It’s right next to the river. I’ll show you. Just let me know whenever you can go.”

“Okay, but I gotta work with my brothers from now on.”

“That’s okay. I’ll show you one day soon. Just let me know.”

In his heart, Paul declared his everlasting love for Eva Mae as she skipped away. She hadn’t treated him differently and that’s what he wanted. He hadn’t said much since the transformation, but Eva Mae’s unconditional love reignited life in his dying soul.

He wondered why Emma Jean hadn’t simply let him live out the lie. He would have found out somehow, someday, but maybe by then it wouldn’t have hurt so bad. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. Maybe he would’ve been grown, or close to it, and then he could have dismissed what others said. But at the tender age of eight, his heart had no defense. Each frown, grunt, stare, and avoidance further wounded his already bleeding heart and made him resent Emma Jean’s announcement all the more.

Even his brothers treated him like a leper. Sometimes they walked by him as though he weren’t there, and other times they offered fake grins like church women who really don’t want to speak. They talked around him—and about him—but rarely
to
him. They hadn’t meant to be mean, Paul assumed. They simply didn’t know what to say. What kind of conversation does one have with a brother who’s been a girl all his life? What would they have in common? The boys feared that Paul would be the undoing of the Peace family since, now, folks demeaned all of them as though his abnormality were inherited.

“I’m sorry,” Bartimaeus said.

Paul turned.

“I shoulda told you.” He took Eva Mae’s place on the edge of the porch. “I just didn’t understand then. I wouldn’t’ve guessed in a million years nothin’ like this.”

“It’s okay.”

“I feel like I shoulda knowed. I mean, what else could it be?”

Paul sighed.

“I failed you. I’m yo’ big brother and I didn’t protect you.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I shoulda told you something. Or asked Momma about it. She might not have told me the truth, but she might have told you.” He hesitated. “Then again, maybe not. I don’t know.”

Paul wanted Bartimaeus to go away.

“I’ma do what I can. I don’t know how much that is, but you my brother and I love you like I always did.” He reached for Paul’s hand. “You gon’ make it. I’ma help you. I owe—”

“Ah! Somebody help me!” Emma Jean screamed from the kitchen.

She had been alone, preparing the Sunday meal, since no one could bear her presence. Paul dashed into the house, with Bartimaeus feeling his way behind him. The back of Emma Jean’s dress was ablaze and smoke billowed out of the small kitchen window.

“Momma!” Paul screeched as he watched the fire crawl up her dress. Bartimaeus fumbled back to the front door and yelled, “Daddy! Authorly! Momma’s on fire!”

Authorly ran from the barn and rushed into the house. “Get the water bucket!” he shouted to Paul. Paul obeyed and dipped several scoops into the bucket, spilling as much water as he saved.

“Oh my God!” Bartimaeus screamed and quivered. “What’s happening?” He held on to the doorknob.

Authorly snatched the homemade quilt from the sofa and slung it across a hysterical Emma Jean just after Paul dashed cold water across her. Emma Jean fell to the floor, shivering like an epileptic.

“Go get Daddy!” Authorly shouted. “Hurry up!”

Paul ran into the front yard, screaming, until Gus appeared from behind the house.

“What is it, boy?”

Paul panted, “Momma’s been burned. Real bad. Her dress caught on fire.”

Gus sprinted through the front door and joined Authorly on the floor. “Aw no! Emma Jean! You all right? What happened!”

“I don’t know!” Authorly said. “I just heard Paul scream for help and when I got in the house Momma’s dress was on fire.”

By this point, Woody, Sol, and James Earl were hovering over their mother in confusion.

Authorly added, “She’s shakin’ somethin’ terrible and I think her back’s been burned.”

“Good Lawd! Woody, you and Sol go get Doc Harris. Run fast as you can! Bartimaeus, pass me that pillow on the sofa.”

Paul stood still, staring at Emma Jean’s quivering form, wondering how in the world all of this had happened so quickly.

Gus embraced Emma Jean from behind and said, “You gon’ be all right, woman. Just hold on.” He rocked her, but shed no tears.

“What chu want me to do, Daddy?” Authorly asked.

“Get a cool washcloth and bring it to me.”

Authorly complied. “Here!”

Gus folded it and placed it on Emma Jean’s forehead. She appeared unconscious.

“Is she all right?” Bartimaeus asked.

“We don’t know yet, son. We gon’ have to wait and see what the doctor says.”

Emma Jean’s trembling subsided a bit. Gus was afraid to move her. He didn’t want to say it, but he had feared something like this would happen. It was only a matter of time. He didn’t wish harm upon Emma Jean, but he knew God was going to have His say.

Mister took Bartimaeus’s hand and led him to where Emma Jean lay huddled in Gus’s arms.

“Don’t touch her,” Gus warned. “It might hurt.”

Bartimaeus bit his bottom lip and clutched the sides of his head.

Moments later, Woody and Sol returned, bursting through the screen door with enough force to tear it from its hinges. Sixty-year-old Doc Harris panted behind them.