The Road to Memphis (7 page)

“Then have some. Cassie, go get a plate for Harris.”

I started to rise, then saw Sissy give Harris a poke. The
smile left his face. “No . . . no, ma’am, Miz Caroline, don’t . . . don’t y’all bother.”

Big Ma put her hands on her hips. “Boy, you gonna insult me and my cobbler?”

Harris looked at her wide-eyed. “Why—why, no, ma’am, I sure ain’t! I—”

Sissy took up the talk. “We just done got up from the table, and we’re plumb full,” she explained. “‘Sides, we watchin’ Harris’s weight, and he done had enough. Ain’t that right, Harris?”

Harris looked at the floor and agreed it was.

“Girl, why don’t you let Harris speak for himself?” I said, feeling right irritated with Sissy about the way she was always talking for Harris.

“Cassie,” Mama admonished, reminding me with one sharp look that this was none of my business.

I heeded the look and kept my silence, though I felt like saying more. Sissy and Harris were such an opposite pair of twins. Sissy was a little bit of a thing and a spitfire of a girl. Harris, despite his tremendous size was a retiring kind of soul. He messed with no one if he could help it. Their mother was dead and they had never known their father. They lived with their grandma Batie and their great-aunt, Mrs. Sarah Noble. I supposed that having no parents was one of the reasons Sissy was always bossing Harris around. But as bossy as Sissy was, she was mighty protective of Harris, too, and would take on anybody who messed with him, especially if somebody teased him about his weight.

“Well, y’all know y’all always welcome to our table,” Papa said and we went on talking about other things.

After a while, when supper was over, Papa and the boys went out to tend to the evening chores and Harris went along
with them. Mama returned to the garden and Big Ma joined her. I was stuck with clearing the table and doing the dishes. As I stacked the dishes, Sissy sat right where she was, not offering a hand, and prattled on and on about my going on the coon hunt. “Well, Cassie, I just don’t know how come you always wanting to go huntin’ with them boys,” she said. “They wanna talk ’bout men things, ’bout they personal business, and how they gonna do that with you sitting all up there?”

I laughed for I could see right through Sissy. She had always been jealous of my friendship with Clarence, with Moe and Little Willie, too, and I knew it was her jealousy that was trying to keep me from the hunt. Still, despite her devious and jealous ways, I liked her. Big Ma said that was because we were so much alike. “What’s the matter, Sissy?” I asked. “Clarence didn’t invite you?”

“Ah, I’m not thinking ’bout Clarence!”

“What he do now?”

She looked sullenly away, her arms folded across her chest, and thought a moment. “You know what he come telling me today? Said he goin’ off and join the Army.”

I picked up the now empty chicken platter. “Well, you know he’s been talking about it.”

Sissy ignored that. “Talkin’ about leavin’ me and just going off like we ain’t been nothin’ to each other. Here I am wantin’ to be gettin’ married, and he ’round here talkin’ ’bout takin’ off.”

“Well, maybe you ought to let him. There’s other boys around here besides Clarence.”

She turned a hostile gaze on me. “What do you know? And how come you always takin’ his side?”

“Girl, don’t be putting me in the middle of this! I got nothing
to do with you and Clarence. All I’m saying is there are other boys and other things to be doing, too, besides getting married. You only seventeen.”

“Well, who’s askin’ you? You got your dreams, and I got mine. You up there studying in Jackson, talkin’ ’bout you going to college, thinkin’ on the law. It’s crazy, but that’s your dream and I don’t mess with it. You need that dream. Me, I need my dream too. I need my Clarence. He the only dream I got, so don’t come messin’ with it!”

I laughed. “Girl, you crazy,” I said, and took a load of dishes to the dishpan. “Crazy to be worrying about that boy like he’s the only one out there.”

“Don’t you be laughing!” she chided. “You seventeen now. You need to be thinking on somebody to marry—”

“Maybe, then, I’ll think on Clarence,” I teased.

Sissy gave me a dead stare. “Naw, not Clarence. I whip anybody mess with Clarence.”

“Now, see, that’s just what I mean ’bout this love business. Makes you go crazy. Makes you say and do crazy things. Girl, don’t nobody want Clarence but you.”

Now there was a burst of laughter from her. “Well, then, that’s good, Cassie, that’s good. ’cause that way he stay mine.”

“Well, you can sure have him too.”

She got up and gave my arm what was supposed to be a friendly slap. “Girl, I gotta go,” she said.

I rubbed my arm. “Well, if nothing else works out and you just set on marrying, you can always get Harris to go take a shotgun to Clarence.”

Sissy laughed once more. “Harris? Shoot! Harris afraid of his own shadow. He ain’t got the backbone of a flea. We going.” I followed her as far as the back door. “See you at church in the morning, Cassie.”

“All right, see you,” I said and as Sissy went down the porch hollering for Harris, I went back to doing my dishes. When they were finished and the floor was swept and everything was clean in the kitchen, I went off to the room I shared with Big Ma to decide upon a dress to wear to church in the morning and iron it before I left for the hunt. After all, there could be no ironing on a Sunday. I opened the chifforobe and pulled out my two favorite summer dresses, one blue and one red, which were yet to be packed. Standing in front of the mirror, I propped one, then the other against myself. I tossed the red dress on the bed; then, still holding the blue one, I pushed the lone braid hanging at the nape of my neck up to the top of my head and held it there. I always felt sophisticated when I had my hair up. Also, when it was up, I looked even more like Mama. As it was, I was tall like Mama, slender, tan-skinned, and had the same high cheekbones and long, crisp, thick hair. Mama always wore her hair up, and this time of year on a Sunday, so did I. I held the dress against me again. I liked what I saw.

“Blue one looks mighty nice.” I turned as Mama came in. She felt the soft cotton of the dress. “Always did favor blue.”

“Yes, ma’am, I know. I like red myself.”

She stood behind me and gazed at me in the mirror. “You know, sugar,” she said, pulling my braid back down, “we’re going to miss you. We were thinking we weren’t going to have to say good-bye until after we took you to Jackson but now that Stacey’s come home with a car, you’ll be going with him. Have to admit, though, I’m a bit sorry that your papa and I won’t be taking you back. I was rather looking forward to it.”

“Well, Mama, you and Papa can still come.”

“No. There’s the cotton to pick so it’s better we stay here. We’ll get up to Jackson another time.” She smiled, reconciling
herself to that time to come, then moved away and sat on the bed. She glanced at the red dress. “One of these dresses for church tomorrow?”

“Yes, ma’am. Wanted to wear something real nice.”

“That couldn’t have anything to do with Moe, could it?”

“Aw, Mama, you know I’ve got no mind on Moe!”

“I know that’s what you keep saying.”

“Well, I keep saying it because that’s the truth.” I put the blue dress down, hung the red dress in front of me again, and bragged, “I do look so good in red.”

Mama laughed and agreed. “But you also look good in blue, and if I recall, Moe is right partial to blue.”

I laid the red dress on the bed again. “I’m not dressing for Moe.”

Mama smoothed out the hem and said nothing.

Then I, too, sat on the bed, the dresses between us. “Mama, you know how I feel about Moe. Moe likes to tease about wanting to court me, but he knows I know he’s teasing. Besides, girls start courting, they’re thinking on getting married, and pretty soon that’s what happens.”

Mama studied me. “Thought you wanted to get married one day.”

“Yes, ma’am, one day. But I figure to do like you. You went ahead and got your teaching degree before you even met Papa, and you’ve been teaching ever since, except for that bad spell. You’d’ve been married, you most likely never would’ve gotten that degree.”

“Maybe not.”

Mama spread her fingers over the bodice of the red dress, then looked at me. “Listen, sugar, I want you to go to college as much as you want to go yourself. Wanted that for Stacey, too, but he chose to go to work.” She spoke those words evenly,
without emotion, though there had been a time when she had gone ’round and ’round with Stacey about staying in school. “But I also want you to be honest about Moe and how you feel about him. He’s such a fine boy, and you should watch out for his feelings too.”

“Well, I don’t have anything to do with his feelings!”

Mama didn’t accept that. “Of course you do.” She glanced at the dresses again. “Any girl who looks for a special dress to wear for a young man has got to know that.”

“He’s my friend,” I said quietly, “and I want things to stay that way. I’ve seen how sometimes a boy and a girl be getting along just fine, and then they start seeing each other seriously, and then they break up, they can’t hardly speak to each other after that. Been better if they hadn’t even gotten together.”

“Well, I don’t think Moe would act that way, and I certainly don’t think you would.”

“Well, I still figure courting can get in the way of a good friendship. And most times I think that’s all there is with us. I mean, I really like being with Moe, and I like it when he pays me some attention. I can talk to Moe about just anything. But, Mama, Moe doesn’t stay on my mind like I figure a boy’s supposed to, and top of that I don’t go getting all excited when I see him. I miss him when he’s not around, but I don’t be crying about it. I miss him like I miss Stacey, and I figure Moe feels the same about me.”

“And what if he doesn’t?”

I grew solemn. I hadn’t thought about that. I had just always figured Moe did feel the same. “Ah, Mama . . . I’d hate to think Moe was feeling something different from the way I feel. I ever thought he was, it’d spoil everything.”

“Spoil what?” asked Big Ma, coming in.

“We were talking about Moe,” I said.

Big Ma just looked at me, then she looked at the dresses. “Moe got somethin’ t’ do with all these here dresses on the bed?”

“Cassie’s trying to decide which one to wear tomorrow,” Mama said, turning to look again at the dresses herself.

“She oughta be in here packing,” asserted Big Ma, even though she knew perfectly well that my packing had been done for weeks now, since before I got sick. She came over to the bed and scrutinized the dresses, then picked up the red dress. “I like this one. Moe will too.”

I jumped up and slammed my hands to my hips in vexation. “Now, what I want to know is how come Moe’s name keep coming up about these dresses?”

Big Ma ignored me and thrust the dress toward me. “Try it on!” she ordered.

Mama laughed. “Go ahead. Let’s see which one shows you off best.”

Feeling a bit exasperated, I took off my blouse and skirt, then slipped on the dress. Mama got up and undid my braid, then combed it out and tied my hair with a ribbon. When she was finished, she and Big Ma stood back satisfied as I pranced around in front of the mirror admiring myself. I was pretty and I knew it. I didn’t think much about it, though. It was just one of those things I was, and I didn’t dwell on it, except for when I had on something especially nice and was wanting to look my best.

“Don’t wear out that mirror, now,” admonished Big Ma, knowing I was thinking I was looking pretty cute. “Here, try on the blue one here.”

I laughed and started to take off the dress. As I pulled it over my head there was a crisp knock on the door and Little
Man called: “’Ey, Cassie! Harris and Clarence and Willie, they’re here! You still going hunting with us?”

“Course I am!” I hollered through the material, and hurried to get out of the dress.

Big Ma slapped at my arm. “Girl, hang on there! You gonna tear this thing.” She helped me out of it, then cast Mama an accusing glance. “Y’all still gonna let her go?”

Mama smiled at Big Ma’s continued disapproval. “Mama, now, you know she’s gone plenty of times before.”

Big Ma sighed in disgust. “Y’all jus’ spoils this girl!” she declared once more. “Here, give me that dress, Cassie! Whiles you out prancin’ ’round them woods, s’pose I best run the iron over one of ’em for ya, you gon’ wear it in the mornin’. Which one you gonna wear?” She didn’t give me time to answer as she took up both dresses. “‘Spect I best go on and iron ’em both. Knowin’ you, you likely to change your mind come mornin’.”

“Thank you, Big Ma,” I said cheerfully, and gave her a quick hug.

“Humph!” she grumped and went on out.

I laughed and hurried into my blouse, then started to pull on my skirt. “You going hunting with the boys,” Mama said, “you best wear that old, faded flowered skirt. This one’s too nice.”

“What I need to be wearing is a pair of pants.”

“You know how I feel about that.”

“But, Mama, it just makes sense to wear pants!”

“That flowered skirt is washed and ironed and hanging up there in that closet somewhere. You best find it and put it on if you’re going. Hunting is one thing, but wearing pants at your age is another. You planning on arguing with me about it, I’ve got the time. Do you?”

“Suppose not,” I grumbled. “Wouldn’t do any good anyway.”

“I think you’re most likely right about that,” she said, heading for the door. “Be sure you hang up that other skirt before you go. You can take it to Jackson with you and wear it again before it’s washed.” She reached the door and looked back at me. “You look mighty pretty in both those dresses, sugar.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Mama.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, smiling too. Then she left.

Little Man hollered for me again from the porch.

“All right, all right, I’m coming!” I shot back. I grabbed the flowered skirt from the closet and threw it on. Underneath it I pulled on a pair of Stacey’s old pants that I kept well tucked away at the back of my drawer, rolled them up above my knees, and hurried out to join the boys. I was eager for the hunt.