Chapter 20

JIM? THAT YOU?

“Yeah, it’s me, Mama.”

I thought you weren’t never coming to the hospital. You ain’t been here to see me yet! Where you been?

“I still ain’t in the hospital, Mama. I’m just in your head.”

In my head? Well, I swanny. Don’t that beat all. Aw shucks. I ain’t dead, am I Jim?

“No, you ain’t dead, Mama. Retta’s here with you though. She been weavin’ all mornin’. You best now get up and tell her to stop it or you’ll be comin’ to see me sooner than you want to.”

Retta! My eyes pop open like they got strings attached and I see Henrietta weaving that big ol’ basket in the corner. Her hair’s pulled back away from her face and she got bags under her eyes I ain’t never seen before. I can smell the sickly cleanness of alcohol and hear that beeping noise again. I turn my head to the left and see this white machine counting my heartbeats. There’s a little red line moving this way and that.

The walls is covered in a pale flowerdy paper and outside my window, the sun’s reflecting off a dusty metal roof. I can see real good today, praise Jesus.

“Mama?” Retta puts down her grass and sets the basket gentle in her chair. She walks over to me with hope beaming out her eyes.

“Well hey there,” she smiles at me. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. You feeling better today?”

She sits down ’tween me and that beeping machine and rubs my chin. “You look a lot better today. You’ve got nice color in your face and your eyes are much brighter. The doctors say you’re doing just fine. Are you going to talk to us today, Mama?”

I go to try and work my mouth, but Retta turns her head when we hear a knock at the door. All a sudden, my eyes get wide when the biggest bunch o’ flowers walks into the room and trailing behind it Mister Jeffrey, Miss Susanne, and her great big ol’ mama too.

Henrietta stands to greet ’em. “Well hello,” she says, sugar sweet. “How nice of you to come by. My, aren’t these just beautiful? What a nice gesture, Jeffrey. You really shouldn’t have.” Henrietta takes the flowers from him and sets them on a little table nearby.

Jeffrey nods at her and then makes a beeline over to me. He scoots in real tight next to my hips and holds my hand. I can smell fresh-cut greens on him, and his skin is nice and warm.

“Miss Essie Mae,” he says, his voice crackling like fire. His eyes well all up and he tries again. “Essie Mae, you doing all right? We’ve all been so scared we were going to . . .” He sniffles and reaches toward me. He takes my hair in his fingers and smoothes my braids. “It’s good to see you.”

I blink my eyes at him. I hope he can see me smile.

“Oh, and look who else came to see you. My new best friends are here. I present to you the Misses Maybree.” He swoops his hand out toward ’em and Susanne leaves her mama to walk over to my other side. Her features, usually small and crisp, are swollen up like she been sick.

“Jeffrey here is just in love with you, I’m afraid,” she says. “He’s had me up all night long talking about you. I feel like I know you better than my own mother.”

Henrietta fidgets and drops a cup on the floor and leans down to pick it up.

“You try and get well now,” Susanne says. “When you get out of here, we’ll have to go do some girl things together, okay? I’ll have you over for dinner one night. Mother would just love that, wouldn’t you?” She waves for her mama who shuffles over on flat cow’s feet.

“Oh, she’ll be just fine now,” says Clarice, waving her arms in my face. “Quit fussing over her so much. Isn’t that right, Miss Essie Mae? Why, when I was in the hospital for my hernia operation, everybody was just “boo, boo, boo” over me, too, and after a while, I told them all to just go on and leave me to rest. Isn’t that right? But really, we would love to have you over when you get out of here. Now make it soon. Okay?”

Lord have mercy, stop talkin’, woman.

“Maybe it is best if we just let Mama rest a while. She’s got a lot of healing to do and the doctors don’t want her getting too excited.” I hear annoyance in Henrietta’s honey voice. She scoops up the flowers in the vase and says, “I’ll put these in Mama’s big beautiful basket before nightfall. I’m almost done with it, you know.”

Clarice squeals over the basket and makes a fool over her for working on it which pleases Retta to no end. Jeffrey looks like the life might get sucked right out from him if he don’t breathe in deep enough. A tear streaks down and leaves a spot on his shirt. He wipes at his face and then leans down to me. He kisses me gentle on the lips. Ain’t no white man ever kissed me on the lips. His mouth is so supple and small, it’s like being smooched by a baby boy.

“You know, when Mama got sick,” he says, “I didn’t know what I was going to do.” I tear up and he wipes at my cheek. “And when she passed away, about the only thing that got me through was knowing that you and Daddy were still in my life.”

I blink at him and try to say, “I love you too, Jeffrey. You’re a real good boy,” but nothing comes out but a breathy sigh. Miss Clarice grabs Jeffrey by the arm and pulls him toward the door like she owns him and gonna take him for a walk. She got her clutches on him all right.

They all promise to come back tomorrow and beg me to get my rest and get well soon. I try to tell ’em I will, but I can’t help seeing that big basket in the corner. It’s got just two more French buttons and the knob on top ’fore it’s done. I try to soak in every detail on Jeffrey’s face ’fore he leaves—if’n that basket gets done ’fore he comes back to see me, and if’n it’s the last time I ever get to see him.

Soon as everybody leaves, Henrietta gets out that bulrush and her fingers work like lightning in the summer sky. ’Fore I know it, seems an hour or two done passed. I hear her take a deep breath and then she walks on over to me to show me what she done. Stuck in the top o’ that basket are all them pretty flowers Jeffrey brung me. Retta sets the lid down on my belly so I can see how fine her work is, then she kisses me on the forehead and says, “Goodnight, Mama. I’ll see you in the morning, okay? You just get some rest now.” She lingers in front of my face and says something I ain’t heard from her in years: “I love you, Mama.” Then she brushes her fingertips over my eyelids and closes them for me. Retta squeezes my hand on her way out the door and I listen to her footsteps get lighter and lighter as she walks down the hall.

Good-bye, baby. That’s some mighty fine weavin’ you done. Retta, Mama loves you more than you’ll ever know. You done me right proud, sure ’nough.

When I was a little girl over in Six Mile, I’d stay outside all day tending to the chickens and fiddlin’ ’round the yard. Mama was always real sweet to me and let me play with the neighborhood children a while ‘fore it got dark. Then she’d call for me—I could hear that call from a mile away and I’d always come a-running. I’d drop whatever or whoever I was playing with and just come on home fast as my legs could bring me.

“Essie Mae? Essie Mae? Essie Maaaaeeee!” She only had to call for me once and I’d be belly up to the table, grabbing a big ol’ crumbly piece of cornbread and sopping up the juice in my hot bowl of beans. Mm hmm, them was good ol’ days. Times seemed so easy even though I know now they weren’t that way a’tall. And soon after that, Mama’d be raising me all on her own after what happened to Daddy in the field one day. He was planting some summer corn when that big mule we had, Bess, done lost her mind and kicked him good. He lost part of his mind and his left eye that day. Yes sir, that was a cryin’ shame. Daddy weren’t never quite the same after that.

“Essie Mae? Essie Mae?” I can hear Mama calling me. “Essie Maaaaeeee!” Great God in heaven, there it is again.

Mama? Mama, that you? I ask, ‘fraid she might answer.

“E da me, baby. I da yo mammy. Oh, sweet Jesus, I miss ya, Essie Mae.”

Praise God, Mama, is it really you? It’s been so many years! I can’t believe it, but . . . Mama?

“Yes baby? What is it?”

Is it my time? Mama, is it time?

“Yes, e time fa go. But ain nuttin’ fa worry ’bout. Yo mammy de right yah now. I gwine be wid you all da wey.”

I feel pressure on my feet like somebody’s holding my socks on. I hear crying and sniffling. EJ gets to wailing and Retta’s grabbing my shoulder, shaking me. Then she loosens her grip and falls to the ground. Baby, you all right? Retta? I try to open my eyes but I can’t. Dad-gum, Henrietta must ‘a finished my love basket. Oh, Retta baby, I’m so sorry I got to go now. I’m so sorry! Can you forgive me? I don’t wanna leave you. We’s just gettin’ friendly again. I can’t leave my EJ neither! Oh sweet Jesus, what have I done?

I squeeze a tear out my eye and all a sudden, a peace like a flying sail o’ white comes out from nowhere and lays its blanket right over me. And all my worry is gone like a dandelion traveling in the breeze. My babies’ll be just fine. I know it now. Everything gonna be all right.

“Essie Mae?”

Yes, I hear you, Mama. I’m comin’. Don’t worry now, I’m comin’ on home.