The Road to Memphis (13 page)

“Good luck,” I said as he, too, started off.

He went off grumbling. “Gonna need it. That devilish Sissy and that fool Clarence, they just ruinin’ my love life . . . .”

“Well, I guess that’s that,” said Little Man, inspecting his suit to make sure he had rid himself of all the dust.

“No, it’s not,” I said.

Christopher-John gave me an odd glance. “What you mean, Cassie?”

“I’m going to go talk to Clarence.”

Little Man cast me a suspicious look. “Well, what you got to say?”

“Plenty,” I replied and crossed the field. True, none of this was my business, but I figured this thing had gone just about far enough, especially since I knew the truth. I caught up with Clarence, and I told him everything. I wasn’t thinking about any promises to Sissy.

At first Clarence didn’t know what to make of the news. “But, then, why’d she say—”

“To make you mad. Get you jealous.”

“J-jealous?” Clarence stumbled over the word. “What she wanna get me jealous for? Sissy know how I feel ’bout her!”

“Look here,” I said. “I’m not supposed to be telling you any of this, so don’t you go back and tell Sissy I told you. But she wanted you to be jealous so you’d come to your senses about how you feel about her. She knew you didn’t want to get married.”

Clarence pouted. “She got everybody laughing at me.”

I was about tired of him and Sissy too. “Look here, just go talk to Sissy. She loves you, Lord only knows why. You know you got no right to deny your own child.”

Clarence thought again, then somewhat relented. “Well . . . like I said, I ain’t ready for no marrying now. Other girls, they have babies and they don’t get married. Sissy can do that too.”

“Well, that’s between you and Sissy. Least, though, you can do is talk to her.”

Clarence considered. “Where she at?”

“She went home.”

He stood there indecisive.

“Now, you know you want to talk to her, so go on.”

Clarence sighed and looked up the road. “Okay. Gotta tell my folks good-bye, then I’ll go on and talk to this girl.” He started away. “Tell Stacey to pick me up at her place, will ya?”

“Be happy to,” I replied, figuring I had just about resolved this whole mess. Sissy could just be mad at me if she wanted to.

It was late afternoon when Stacey, Moe, Willie, Oliver, and I said our good-byes to everybody, left Great Faith, and headed for Sissy’s to pick up Clarence. As we neared the trail leading to Ma Batie’s we saw Clarence and Sissy standing out on the road. We heard them too. Obviously, what with all the hollering going on, they hadn’t made up. As we pulled alongside them Clarence turned to us. “Y’all know what that old woman Ma Batie done? She took a shotgun to me!”

“What?” we said. Then we couldn’t help ourselves. We laughed.

“Yeah! She coulda killed me!”

“Shoulda killed ya!” judged Sissy. “What you doin’ up here, anyway, Clarence Hopkins?”

“Just come to tell you to stop makin’ a fool of yourself.”

“Me make a fool of myself? Negro, I wasn’t the one hiding behind some tree up there ’fraid of a shotgun!”

Clarence cast a cautious glance up the trail toward the house. “I know what you doin’ ’round here, Missy. You think I don’t know? You trying to get me to marry you, girl.”

“Now, just what would I want with you?”

“Don’t play games with me! Cassie told me! Told me everything you up to! Yeah, Cassie done told me all about it!”

Sissy’s head turned like a rattler’s.

“Oh, Lord,” I groaned and got out of the car. I was used to dealing with Sissy Mitchum, and I got myself ready for her.

“You done that, Cassie?” she hissed. “You told him, knowin’ all the while I ain’t wanted him to know it?”

There was nothing I could do but admit the truth. It was out now. “Yeah, I told it. Only thing was, Clarence wasn’t supposed to tell you I told it.”

Clarence looked a bit chagrined. Sissy took note. “Ain’t Clarence’s fault ’bout that. Fault’s yours and the fault’s mine, ain’t it, now? I’da kept it to myself, then you wouldn’t’ve known. You’da kept it to yourself, then he wouldn’t’ve known.”

I didn’t like the way this was going. Sissy was being too calm. “Guess you got something there,” I admitted, feeling the contest of wills now between her and me.

She crossed her arms over her bulging stomach “You just can’t stand it, can you, Cassie? To have another girl close to any of ’em?”

I studied her good. “Girl, just what’re you talking about?”

“Them boys. Can’t stand it, can ya? You just had to go tell it and put yourself in good with Clarence, like you was closer to him than me. This here ain’t been none of your business till you put yourself in it! It was all gonna work out, and I told you that—”

“Yeah, you told me that, all right!” I shot back. “Meanwhile you were making such a mess around here you had everybody fighting—”

“Maybe so. But who’re you to step into it?”

“Just trying to be your friend!”

“Well, maybe I don’t need your kind of friend!”

“’Ey, wait, now, Sissy!” interceded Clarence. “Don’t be gettin’ on Cassie—”

Sissy turned like a tigress. “And don’t you be defendin’ her! Not to me, you don’t! Here I am carryin’ this baby of yours, and you gonna take up for her ’stead of me? I’ll kill you, boy!”

“Leastways you admitting now it’s his,” I said. “Got something set right out of all this mess.”

Suddenly, without warning, Sissy turned and lunged at me. I should have been expecting it, knowing Sissy as I did, but I suppose her condition caught me unprepared for the viciousness of her attack. I saw the flash in her eyes, then shielded my face with my arms before she could claw me. Clarence caught her and pulled her off. “Now, Sissy,” he cried, “you cut that out, girl!”

Sissy screamed to high heaven at the order. “Now you protectin’ her too! Well, I don’t care! You don’t mean nothin’ to me!”

“Sissy! Calm down, girl!” He held her by the arms and tried to talk sense to her, but she wrenched away. She was a strong little thing. “Tell it to Cassie!” she screamed. “I don’t wanna hear it! My ears closed to anything you got to say, Clarence! Oughta get me Ma’s shotgun and take it to you my own self!”

I stepped forward. “Ah, Sissy! You gone about as crazy as a loon—”

“Get ’way from me, Cassie Logan! I don’t wanna talk to you!”

“Then I expect you don’t much want to talk to nobody,” said Clarence. He let her go and walked back to the car.

Sissy’s eyes went hot with rage. “Don’t you turn your back
on me, Clarence Hopkins! You hear me? Don’t you leave from here!”

Clarence didn’t say anything. He held the door open for me. I sighed and got back in the car. Things weren’t supposed to be turning out like this.

“Clarence!” Sissy screamed again.

“I’m sorry,” I said as Clarence got in beside me.

“You got no need,” he said. “Let’s go, Stacey.”

Stacey glanced over at Sissy. “You sure you want to leave it like this, Clarence?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. The girl’s crazy. Whole family’s crazy.”

Stacey didn’t say anything else. He started the car, and we went on, leaving Sissy behind still hollering after us.

“Look here, Stacey,” Clarence said, “we get to Strawberry, I wanna stop a minute at the store, get me some B.C. head medicine.”

“All right. Have to stop in town myself to see Mr. Jamison.”

“Good, then, ’cause that girl Sissy sure done give me one bad headache.”

I looked at him. “Thought you had a headache before you left Jackson. Didn’t you get rid of that thing?”

“Yeah, for a while. But it’s back now, and that Sissy, she just done made it worse.”

“Yeah, well, I can understand that,” I said. “She gave me one too.”

Incident in Strawberry

I had never much liked riding down the main street of Strawberry. I hadn’t particularly liked it as a child, and I sure didn’t now. Strawberry had always been a sad, desolate kind of place to me, and in the years since I’d first seen it nothing much had changed. Verandas still sagged in front of gloomy store buildings and raised wooden sidewalks still creaked and groaned. Wagons and pickups still lined the short strip of paved road that ran hurriedly through the town and away from it, and the spindly row of electrical lines that gave the town its claim to modernity still looked out of place. On Saturdays farm women wearing dresses cut from cotton flour sacks and farm men wearing denim populated the town, and a hound dog that looked
to be as old as the town itself still slept wherever it pleased, in the middle of the road mainly, and folks just left him be and went around him.

That was Strawberry.

And then there were the old men. They were always sitting there on that bench in front of the Barnett Mercantile watching folks, reporting every move, just like some old police force. Like old gray sentinels from another era, they were always on the alert, reporting the latest comings, the latest goings, the slightest stray from the ordinary. It was December, yet they were sitting right there, and would be until the weather turned chill and damp and the dreaded days of winter swept this hot land, forcing them inside. Nothing much got past that bench that they didn’t see, so we hardly could. We expected them to stare at us and wonder about our business, for they always did. They were staring now as Stacey parked in front of Mr. Wade Jamison’s office, across the street from the mercantile.

As we got out of the car Stacey frowned down at one of the tires. “What’s the matter?” I asked.

“That left front tire looks low.”

Little Willie came over. “Lookin’ more than low, hoss. Best put some air in it.”

“Been low too often,” said Stacey. “Best to change it Put on the spare.”

“Well, you go on see ’bout your business with Mr. Jamison, man. We take care of it for you.”

“Thanks, Willie. The jack’s in the back with the spare. But I tell you what. Take the car on down to Mr. Dueeze’s garage and see if you can’t get this tire here patched. Don’t like to drive without a spare.”

“Don’t worry ’bout a thing,” said Willie. “It’s already taken care of.”

Stacey gave Willie some money and the keys. “I’ll catch y’all up there.”

Willie started to take the driver’s seat, but then Clarence said, “Y’all wait on up a minute while I run in here and get me some BCs for my head. Be right back.”

“I’ll go with you,” said Moe, and the two of them crossed the street to the mercantile. As they stepped onto the porch Statler Aames and his brothers came out of the store and Jeremy was with them. They looked at Clarence and Moe as they went in, then leaned against the store posts and began talking to the old men.

Stacey, who had been watching, turned and headed for Mr. Jamison’s office. As he reached the walkway Mr. Jamison opened the door to his office and came out carrying a briefcase. He was a lean man, gray, in his sixties, and as usual when we saw him, he wore a suit and a hat. He noticed Stacey and gave a nod. “Were you coming to see me?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, I was, but it looks like it’s a bad time—”

“No matter. Glad you caught me. I was just on my way to Jackson.”

“We’re on our way there too. It be better for you, I can come by your office in Jackson next week sometime. Wanted to make my final payment on the car.”

If Mr. Jamison was surprised that Stacey was paying the car note off so quickly, he made no indication of it. He glanced over at the Ford, at Willie, Oliver, and me, spoke to us, then said, “Car looks mighty good, Stacey. Mrs. Jamison would be proud to see it.”

Stacey smiled, for those were fine words coming from Mr. Jamison. “Thank you. Course, it’s not looking the best right now, what with all the dust from the trip down, but I’m right proud of it.”

Mr. Jamison’s eyes studied the Ford a few moments longer, then he looked back to Stacey. “I take it you’re all home for the funeral.”

“Yes, sir. Folks came from all over.”

“Well, Reverend Gabson ministered throughout the county. Wouldn’t have expected any less. He was a respected man.”

“Yes, sir, that’s a fact.”

Mr. Jamison turned back to his office. “You’ll be needing a few legal papers now that you’ve got full ownership. Come on in and I’ll write them for you.”

Stacey followed Mr. Jamison back up the walkway and into the office. Little Willie, Oliver, and I waited by the Ford. Across the street the old gray men were watching us and so were Statler, Troy, and Leon Aames. I could feel Jeremy’s eyes on us too. I knew they were all wondering about our business. I turned my back to them, leaned against the car, and looked the other way.

“Ah, there’s that scound,” said Willie. “Come on, we can go.”

He opened the car door. I turned around and saw Clarence coming out of the mercantile. Moe wasn’t with him, but I didn’t figure him to be far behind. I started to get into the car but then stopped as Statler hollered out to Clarence. “’Ey, soldier boy!” he called. “That uniform you got on making you forget your manners?”

Clarence was already at the steps. He turned, his face etched with surprise. “S-suh?”

Statler now moved from his post toward Clarence. “You walked right on past me twice now, boy, and ain’t minded your manners neither time.”

Clarence stared at Statler as if not certain what he was talking about, but he apologized anyway. “Well . . . I’m sorry.”

“You sorry, then what your cap doing on your head, nigger, when I’m talking to ya?”

Immediately Clarence’s hand went to his head and snatched off the cap.

“Niggers put on a uniform, make ’em get the big head. You got the big head, boy?”

“No, suh.”

“Well, why don’t you just show me that, then?”

Clarence looked puzzled, not knowing what he meant. Leon and Troy sniggered at Clarence’s confusion. “Suh?”

“Come on over here, let me see your head. Want to see how big it is.” He motioned him over with a friendly gesture, as if inviting him to come sit down to tea. “I said, step on over here!”

The old men on the bench laughed. Clarence looked at them, then slowly walked over to Statler and waited, his eyes questioning what was coming.

“Bend that head!” Statler ordered. Clarence obeyed. Statler walked around Clarence, his eyes on Clarence’s head, giving it close inspection. Then he lifted his hand, balled it into a fist, and knocked on the back of Clarence’s head as if he were knocking on somebody’s door. He looked around at the others. “Well, watcha think?”