CHAPTER 12

When they entered the kitchen, Momma laughed heartily.

“What is it?” TL asked.

“You can’t see nothin’, child?”

He honestly didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Out there. Today. I saved yo’ ass and you didn’t even notice.”

“Saved me? From what?”

“From everybody questionin’ you ’bout yo’ private life. The food wasn’t quite ready yet, but it was a good way to distract folks, don’t you think?”

He’d missed it. “Thanks.”

She smirked. “The things you miss, boy.” Her look was accusatory. “I done saved you a whole lotta times and you never even noticed. I washed yo’ dirty draws when you wasn’t speakin’ to me, and I cooked yo’ meals when all you wanted was Ms. Swinton. Did she ever feed you?” TL looked away. “That’s what the note meant, fool. I wasn’t the momma you wanted. I know that.” Her voice softened. “And you wasn’t the son I wanted. But we got each other anyway.”

The screen door slammed behind her. TL was left standing at the kitchen sink, trying to figure out what other signs he’d missed. It seemed as if Momma was pruning his consciousness, stripping him of everything he thought he knew. He felt naked, exposed, barren. What exactly did the family think of him? And what did they say behind his back? TL chuckled. He knew what they said. There was no woman in his life—at least that they knew of—and that could only mean one thing, right? That’s what they assumed. But it wasn’t always true. George said most men marry to keep people from talking, but TL felt no need to do that. He was a scholar and an educator, he told himself, who knew his life’s purpose. But, from the looks of things, maybe he didn’t.

All his life, he’d been too afraid to ask the hard questions. Like what he really believed. He’d grown up in church, but he was never sure how much religious rhetoric to embrace. He didn’t believe in hell—he knew that much—and he didn’t believe that only Christians were going to heaven. If there was a heaven at all. But he’d always loved Jesus and what He stood for. He was single, too, Jesus, so if His life had meaning, TL thought his could, too. The sexuality question was simply too taboo to touch. Not because TL didn’t know his own truth, but because he didn’t come from parents or people who would’ve loved him had he admitted it. He knew that. Everyone knew it. So he carried the shame and silence like a warrior shield. Since college, he’d believed that sexuality is biological, so, to TL, it didn’t make sense that God would condemn people for whom they loved. When folks reminded him of what the Bible said, he simply reminded them that God didn’t write it.

Outside, Uncle Roscoe called for everyone to create the family circle. Relatives grumbled and moaned about it being too hot for all that, but they obeyed. Uncle Roscoe was even bigger than Marcus and absolutely no one wanted to endure his wrath.

When the circle was complete, Uncle Roscoe stepped into the center with a jug of water and said, “Y’all call the names of people what done passed, and I’ma po’ a lil’ water on the ground after each name. Y’all know how we do.” He winked at TL. “Our folks use to do this back in Africa as a way to say thank you to those who done passed on. They did that ’cause most folks ain’t got sense enough to say thank you to folks while they livin’. The water washes away hard feelin’s that maybe you never did get a chance to express.” He leaned toward TL and whispered, “I reads, too,” and nudged him lovingly. Everyone obeyed and summoned the spirits of people the youth had never known. When his turn came, Marcus stepped into the circle and shouted, “Jamie Woodyard!”

No one responded. No ashe, no amen … nothing. In his anger, TL stepped forward and said, “Ashe!” Marcus nodded. Jocelyn followed suit. Five or six other cousins their age joined them as they created a smaller circle within the larger one. Then, out of nowhere, Willie James came forth. The crowd mumbled with confusion and surprise, but he stood flat-footed and declared, “Amen,” glancing at TL. Most of the elders didn’t like it, but Marcus and his peers stood there anyway, representing an ancestor who’d never been celebrated on earth. Uncle Roscoe poured half the gallon of water onto the ground and said, “Ain’t no need in y’all bein’ mad. These young folks is right. He’s a ancestor just like the rest of ’em. And since we didn’t treat him right on earth, we gon’ treat him right in heaven! Shit. These young folks growed up with that boy. They played together as chil’ren, so they had a personal connection to him. They ain’t gon’ be satisfied ’til we do right by him. He might’ve been funny, but he was still family.” He looked around. “Yeah, I said it! And I ain’t takin’ it back!”

The grumbling continued.

Uncle Roscoe said, “Come here, Jocelyn.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and massaged soothingly. “On behalf of all of us, we want to apologize for not bein’ a family when you needed one. Jamie was a good kid and it’s a shame we didn’t do better by him and you. But we gon’ stop this right here and now. He didn’t do no worse than the rest of us. Hell, some of us got kids by two and three different people with no wedlock in sight.” The crowd gasped. “Now ashe that!”

The inner circle laughed.

Daddy wasn’t amused. He shook his head and said, “You can’t make folk call that boy right, Roscoe.”

A few said, “Amen.”

“I ain’t said nothin’ ’bout right, Cleatis. Wrong either. ’Cause if we gon’ talk right and wrong, you know you got to close yo’ mouth.”

All grumbling ceased.

“I’d have to close mine, too. I got a daughter the same age as my son—and they ain’t twins. So if we gon’ tell the truth, let’s do it. But if we ain’t, then we gon’ be quiet ’bout everybody. And I mean everybody.”

Daddy stared at his big brother, but couldn’t challenge him.

“So like I said, we gon’ do better as a family ’bout bein’ a family ’cause we the only folks we got. It’s a shame to meet folks on the street who treat you better’n your own family. What’s the point in comin’ together like this if we don’t grow no closer?”

Everyone agreed. Jocelyn wept openly.

“It’s all right, baby,” Uncle Roscoe consoled, patting her shoulders. “We ain’t perfect, but we ’bout to be better. We gon’ love all the chil’ren the good Lawd send from now on, don’t care what they be like. Hell, we could be throwin’ away Jesus Christ.”

“That’s true,” Aunt Trucilla said.

“Yeah it’s true! Ain’t no tellin’ what folks said ’bout Him, either. He was strange, ’cordin’ to the Word, so you know people made fun o’ Him. That’s the way we do. But they didn’t kill Him ’cause He was strange. They killed Him ’cause He knowed who He was.” Uncle Roscoe paused, believing he’d said something profound. “Think about it. They didn’t kill Jesus ’cause He said He was the son of God. Anybody coulda said that. They killed Him ’cause He knowed He was the son of God, and He acted like it, too.”

Momma laughed.

“I ain’t playin’! He knowed who He was. Our job is to love whoever God sends ’cause, one day, He comin’ back, and I’m mighty ’fraid He ain’t comin’ like we thinkin’. He might come lookin’ jus’ like Thomas over there.”

Thomas raised his hands and twirled. The family hollered.

“Okay. Mark my word. It’d be a shame to treat God like common trash, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes it would,” people murmured.

“His ways ain’t our ways, and His thoughts ain’t our thoughts, so be careful of judgin’ folks. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

Jocelyn thanked Uncle Roscoe and they embraced. The inner circle disbanded and rejoined the larger family. After all the names had been called, folks returned to their chairs and resumed general conversation. TL took a seat next to Uncle Roscoe.

“We off to a good start, Professor, but we got a long way to go. You and that crazy-ass son o’ mine make sure this family do right after my generation is dead and gone, you hear?”

“Yessir.”

“Ain’t nothin’ harder than livin’ wit’ your own family. That’s ’cause yo’ family know yo’ history. I mean yo’ real history. That’s why, when people change, they leave home, ’cause yo’ family is the first to remind you of what you ain’t!”

“I know that’s right!” TL said.

Uncle Roscoe’s belly shimmied like Jell-O. “But sometimes family’s the only ones what’ll help you if you get in trouble. I’ma witness to that.” He gazed into the sky, searching for his memory. “When I was ’bout sixteen, me and some boys from ’round here was in town lookin’ in different shops when one of the boys decided he was gon’ steal a watch.”

Cousins gathered to hear the story.

“We didn’t have no sense, but Joe Nathan Bryers really didn’t have none. He commenced to goin’ in the sto’ and actin’ like he was browsin’. I stayed outside.”

“You knew better, huh?”

“We all knowed better. Parents raised kids back in them days. They didn’t just have ’em like y’all doin’.”

Young folks snickered.

“Anyway, Joe Nathan piddled around ’til he snuck the watch into his pocket. The two other boys followed him ’round and they all come out the store together. We walked down the street, and went behind the old Grier Clothing store building where he showed me the watch. It was pretty, too. Diamonds all ’round the edge and gold numbers bright as the sun. He let me hold it, and, like a dummy, I put it on. That’s when Old Man Grier and another white man come out the back door. Joe Nathan took off runnin’ like the devil was after him, and the other boys did the same. I was too scared to move. I didn’t wait for the men to ask me nothin’. I handed them the watch and told them what had happened.”

“Of course they didn’t believe you,” TL said.

“Sho’ they did! They believed me. They knowed my folks and knowed that Daddy woulda beat the hide off me if I’d ever stole anything. They knowed I didn’t take it. Back then, black children rarely got into trouble like that. We wasn’t perfect, but we believed in family honor, so we just didn’t do stuff like that.”

“Did they take you to jail?”

“Hell yeah they took me to jail! Shit. I had the watch in my hands. They knowed I wasn’t guilty, but I had to go anyway ’cause I didn’t have no business foolin’ ’round wit’ crazy-ass Joe Nathan in that sto’. I shoulda left when he told me what he was gon’ do, but since I didn’t, I had to pay the price.” He shrugged. “The sheriff went and told Daddy, and he come down to the jailhouse madder’n a fox in a trap. He told the man I didn’t do it, and the man said he knowed I didn’t, but I had the watch, so he had to take me in. Daddy asked how much it would cost to get me out, and the sheriff said ten dollars, but Daddy didn’t have ten dollars. He only had two, and the sheriff wouldn’t take it. He told Daddy to go on back home and he’d release me in a few days, but Daddy asked if he could stay. The sheriff said suit yo’self, and Daddy stretched out on the flo’ right in front o’ the cell. He didn’t say a word to me. Just got on his knees and prayed for ’bout fifteen minutes, then stretched out like a tired mule. I never will forget it. The sheriff give Daddy a couple o’ old army blankets to cover up wit’ and an old, flat feather pillow for his head. In the mornin’, I guess he felt sorry for us ’cause he told Daddy to go on home and take me wit’ him.”

“I bet Granddaddy was mad, huh?” Marcus asked.

“You know he was! He liked to kill me when we got home. Told me years later, befo’ he died, why he stayed there that night.” Uncle Roscoe choked up. “Said he wanted to make sho’ them white men didn’t kill his boy. Yeah, they was nice and all, but he didn’t trust them completely. I never forgot that. I thought the old man didn’t like me, but after that, I realized that, when you least expect it, family stands with you sometimes when nobody else will. You young folks remember that.”

They nodded. Uncle Roscoe talked on until slowly, people began to leave. But TL wanted more.

“What kinda man was Granddaddy?” TL asked.

“He was a good man, son. He really was. Times was jus’ so hard he had to be hard, too. He didn’t have no choice. We thought he was mean, but he wasn’t. He jus’ meant for us to survive. And we did. Never did have no money, but we ate good every day and always had a warm place to sleep.” He laughed. “Well, maybe not warm, but at least it was a place to sleep. In the winter, a bucket of water woulda froze in our bedroom. That’s how cold it was.”

“How’d y’all stand it?”

“We had so much cover on the bed you couldn’t hardly turn over. It was ice cold, boy, but after a while, you got warm enough to go to sleep. If you had to pee in the middle o’ the night, you held it ’til mornin’, ’cause if you got out o’ bed and went to the outhouse, you’d get so cold on the way you never would get back to sleep.

“But it was a good life. We didn’t think so then, but I ain’t seen nothin’ better. Least not yet. I ain’t sayin’ it was perfect, ’cause it wunnit. People been crazy since the beginnin’ o’ time, and every family gets a few crazy members. That’s the way God do it so won’t nobody get the big head. Don’t care how great you get, somebody in yo’ family is a fool.”

He pointed to Marcus and everyone laughed.

“Yo’ granddaddy made a lot o’ mistakes, boy.” Uncle Roscoe paused. “He was the father o’ his own grandchild.”

“Sir? How is that possible?”

“Oh, it’s possible! When yo’ aunt Cecelia was fifteen, she come up pregnant. Momma was pregnant wit’ Agnes at the same time. Nobody really said nothin’, but we knowed what had done happened. Momma knowed, too. Cel hadn’t been wit’ no boy. She wunnit never allowed to go nowhere. So when she come up pregnant, Momma didn’t say a word. She knowed everything. I guess wunnit nothin’ she could do ’bout it. Women didn’t fight men back in them days. They fussed a little, but most of ’em put up wit’ a whole lotta shit while they watched in silence.”

Various cousins mumbled their objection.

“That’s jus’ the way it was. Didn’t nobody have enough education to do nothin’ else, so we did what was expected of us.

“Anyway, when Cel started showin’, they locked her in the back bedroom ’til she delivered.”

Jocelyn screeched, “What!”

“That’s right. I remember it like it was yesterday. She stayed in that room from March ’til August. ’Course she went to the outhouse, but that was it. And when she did, she covered up like them folks in Iraq! Didn’t nobody outside the family see her, and I mean nobody. Even when we was in the house, we didn’t go in that room and she didn’t come out. Momma took her food and clean clothes, and sometimes days or even weeks went by without any of us kids seein’ her at all. Then one day we come in from the field and heard a baby cryin’ and we knowed Cel had done delivered. She still didn’t come out of that room. Momma delivered a month later and took Cel’s baby and nursed both of ’em. Her and Daddy told everybody that Momma had had twins, and since folks didn’t know no better, they believed it.”

TL shouted, “Oh my God!”

“Shhhhh. This ain’t for everybody. I thought some o’ y’all oughta know befo’ the good Lawd call me home. I know Cleatis didn’t tell you.”

“No sir, he didn’t.”

“Well, he wunnit s’posed to.”

“Daddy, you gotta be kiddin’,” Marcus said. “You mean to tell me Aunt Cat and Aunt Agnes ain’t really twins?”

He cackled. “Did you hear what I said, boy? Shit!”

“They look just alike!”

“I guess so! They got the same daddy!”

Cousins shook their heads in disbelief. TL asked, “And things just went back to normal?”

“Naw, I wouldn’t say normal. Momma packed Cel’s clothes and put her on a train to Kansas City. She stayed wit’ Aunt Luvenia, Momma’s oldest sister. I didn’t see her no more ’til I got grown and went to Kansas City myself. By then, she was livin’ on her own, singin’ and dancin’ in blues clubs downtown. She was a skinny little thing, but she could sang and sway her hips and have men throwin’ their whole wallet at her. She was somethin’ to see, I’m tellin’ you. But she didn’t wanna have nothin’ to do with Arkansas, ever again, and you couldn’t mention Momma and Daddy without her cussin’ you out. I tried to get her to come home wit’ me a couple o’ times, but that was like askin’ God to go to hell. Momma never did see Cel no more. They asked me ’bout her, and I always lied and said she was fine and asked ’bout them. But Cel wasn’t fine. She was so hurt she couldn’t see straight, and I couldn’t do nothin’ to help her.”

Jocelyn asked, “That’s the one everybody talks about who ran away from home and was killed in a train accident?”

“Yep, she’s the one, but she didn’t run away. They sent her away. Momma was tryin’ to protect her, but Cel didn’t see it that way. Whenever I mentioned home, she’d start breathin’ heavy and fire would burn in her eyes, like she was turnin’ into a monster or somethin’. She was so pretty. That was the problem. All the boys in the community talked ’bout marryin’ her when she wunnit but twelve or thirteen years old. She was a smooth pretty brown, like a pound cake, and she had big brown eyes the size of marbles. When she smiled, her whole face lit up. I’m tellin’ you! Cecelia Ann Tyson was a knockout!” He slammed his right fist into his left palm. “Folks did her so bad she didn’t have a chance. And she didn’t die in no train wreck.” Uncle Roscoe studied their faces. “She was murdered. They found her body behind an old abandoned Folgers factory. Somebody beat her up pretty bad, but it was definitely her. I identified the body.”

“What!” TL said. “Then who came up with the train wreck story?”

He pointed to himself. “I didn’t want nobody talkin’ ’bout my sister as no sleazy tramp. I wanted her to have some dignity.” His bottom lip quivered. “I didn’t have no money to bury her, so they laid her in a wooden box and put her in an unmarked grave in the city cemetery. I used to go by there sometimes and sit. I stopped goin’ years ago. Had to. Needed to move on.”

TL touched Uncle Roscoe’s massive hands. He wanted to ask a million other questions, but Uncle Roscoe was beginning to tire.

“That’s the only time I seen Daddy cry, when I told him ’bout Cel. I drove home wit’ the death certificate and gave it to him. He tried to hold it together, but his knees collapsed and he went to the ground. I called for Momma, and when she learned what happened, she walked off down the road like a crazy woman. When she come back, she looked twenty years older. Just like that. Within a year, both of ’em was dead.”

“Shouldn’t someone tell Aunt Cat and Aunt Agnes they ain’t twins?” Jocelyn asked.

Uncle Roscoe hollered. “Girl, git outta here! They been knowin’!”

“Stop it! Are you serious?” she said.

“They didn’t know at first, when they was lil’ girls, but they found out later. I went to ’em when they got grown, ready to tell ’em everything, and they laughed and said they’d been knowin’. They liked the idea of bein’ twins though so they decided to live that way.”

Jocelyn said, “I can’t believe how much they look alike.”

“Yeah, well, they oughta.”

TL examined the faces of other elders, wondering what they knew that most didn’t. Not names or personalities, but truth and family history. It’s funny, he thought, how people’s faces tell their stories, especially old people. He’d never noticed this before, but now he could see it. Some of them were a smudgy gray, with a dull, embalmed look. This was particularly true for the men, as if they’d been covered with a permanent ash. Something must’ve happened back in the forties and fifties, which left them hopeless and discolored. The women didn’t share the ashen undertone. Instead, they wore frozen smiles and smirks, masking whatever they couldn’t say. The more he studied them, the more he saw the weight of history upon their faces and the price they must’ve paid to survive. They’d been taught the art of endurance. That was something future generations would long for. The bright innocence of young faces, TL told himself, simply confirmed that they hadn’t lived yet.

The last thing Uncle Roscoe said was “Most folks, if they live long enough, end up bein’ Jesus and the devil. We wanna be Jesus all the time, but we ain’t. Every now and then, that old devil has his way. That’s what happened to Daddy. He wanted to be a good man. I believe that. But he didn’t have enough Jesus on the inside. He did my sister wrong, and I’ll never forgive him for that, but he wunnit the devil. Not all the time. I realized that the night he laid in front o’ my jail cell. I was mad at him for what he’d done to Cel, but he saved my life that night, far as I know.” He paused. “I think he was sorry. He acted like he was. After Cel left, he never did say much. Me and Cleatis saw him once, out in the middle o’ the woods, screamin’ and swingin’ his arms and cryin’ out, ‘Forgive me, Lord! I’m sorry!’ We turned and ran away. He was a different man after that. I guess that’s the best a man can do—beg God for forgiveness and try hard to do better. Daddy did that. I’ve had to do it, too. Y’all live long enough, you gon’ do it, too.”

Evening came on easy, purply gray. People’s spirits lightened, as if the impending darkness freed them somehow. A few said good night and returned to their hotel rooms in town, while the rest gathered around Uncle Jethro and other elders and listened to family history they’d heard a million times. TL wanted to hear more of the stories they hadn’t told, but since he didn’t know what to ask, he listened like everybody else until the moon replaced the sun and mosquitoes unleashed their attack. When they became unbearable, the remaining family members said good night and drove away. TL walked Uncle Roscoe and Aunt Trucilla to their shiny red Cadillac, but before saying good night, he asked, “What do you really think happened to Sister, Uncle Roscoe?”

The man squinted hard. “I couldn’t tell you, son. Somethin’ went wrong between yo’ momma and yo’ sister. I know that. Yo’ daddy called one night right after everything happened, soundin’ like he had done lost his mind.”

“Really? What did he say?”

Uncle Roscoe shook his head. “I don’t remember exactly, but I recall him sayin’ he couldn’t believe his baby girl was gone away.”

“Gone away? You mean passed away?”

“Naw, he said gone away. I asked him where she went, but he didn’t say. He just hung up. Next thing I know, somebody called the house sayin’ she was dead. It didn’t make no sense, so I called him back and asked him ’bout it, but he just said she died suddenly. They didn’t know why.”

“What about a funeral? Did you ask him about that?”

“Yep, but he said wunnit gon’ be none ’cause it was too hard on yo’ momma. I didn’t ask nothin’ else.”

TL thanked him and promised to see them at church in the morning. After everyone left, he walked back to Ms. Swinton’s in the dark, listening to the cry of crickets and bullfrogs, and wondering what “gone away” could’ve meant. He never noticed the hawk gliding easily above him.