“I’m sorry, Daddy,” I said. “I was trying to get back to—”
“You don’t owe me nothing,” he said serious. “You waited, just like I told you to. Problem is, I made you wait, when it was my music should have done the waiting.”
Daddy talked to me ’bout everything he could think of. Everything except why I was there. And I was glad ’cause that was the last thing I wanted to tell him. When he started in ’bout the places he’d been playing, I stopped him.
“I got something to show you,” I told him. “I’ll be right back.” I ran down the hall, nearly slipping on the polished floor. Everyone looked up when I went back into the dorm with the cots. Some faces were looking sad, like they were wishing they had a visitor too, but I couldn’t think ’bout that now. I picked up my trumpet and the sheet music and ran back to the visitor’s room. Time I got back to Daddy I was out of breath.
“What you got there?” he asked, looking at what I was holding.
“A trumpet!” I told him. “Mr. Danforth, he put me in the band here. I ain’t that good yet, but I’m getting the hang of it.”
“Well, let’s hear what you got,” Daddy said, sitting up straight, like he was sitting at the Regal Theater.
“Here?” I asked, looking ’round. The room was mostly empty, but now I wasn’t sure I wanted my daddy hearing me play when I was still hitting so many bad notes.
“I gotta wait till you at Carnegie Hall?” he asked, laughing.
I put the trumpet to my lips, set the sheet music on a chair, and played the “Stars and Stripes” song I’d been practicing for weeks. I didn’t look at Daddy, just the music when I played, so I could play my best. When the song finished and I looked at my daddy, he sat quiet.
“Told you I wasn’t that good yet,” I said, putting the trumpet down on the chair.
He shook his head. “I’m just thinking, I hope you blew loud enough so your grandpops could hear you up above, ’cause I know you making him proud.”
“Not in here I ain’t,” I said, sitting down.
“Lymon, he forgave me. He’d forgive you too. You made a mistake, same as me, only difference is, you got a lot more time to make it right. Looks to me like you’re doing just that.”
“That mean you liked my playing?” I asked.
“You got a gift, son. We just gotta make sure you use it right. Maybe one day, when you finish up your schooling, the two of us will have to go out on the road together.” He drew out our names in the air. “Grady Caldwell and Son.”
“How about Lymon Caldwell and Dad?” I asked.
Daddy grabbed me by my neck. “Why you gotta take top billing? You trying to say you better than your old dad?”
Daddy sat me down. “Listen, before I go, I got some news for you. Clark got me a job down at the foundry, so I’d have something steady. I moved Ma back into the house. Only thing missing is you.”
“You mean I’m going back with you and Ma?” I asked him. Not wanting to let myself believe it like before.
“Sure are. But the folks here said you got two more months you got to stay and then they can release you to my custody.” Daddy whistled. “You hear that? They gonna release my son to me? So, looks like now, I’m waiting on you.” He smiled, sad around the edges.
“Why can’t I go with you now?” I could hear my voice choking.
“Law’s the law, son. Know I told you that before. You broke it, now they aim to break you.”
Daddy put his hand on my knee. “You come this far, Lymon. Just a little more to go.”
“You talk to my momma?”
He shook his head no. “No more than I had to. I’m bound to end up in here ’longside you if I see that husband of hers.”
“They don’t let old people in here.” We both laughed.
His voice got lower. “You’re gonna see your momma again one of these days, and when you do, I’m trusting you’ll both see things a little bit clearer.”
“Not so sure ’bout that,” I said.
“Sometimes even grown folks got growing up to do.” Daddy cleared his throat. “I know something about that.”
He looked me at me straight.
“Now I’ma tell you up front. It ain’t gonna be easy with Ma. You think she was fussin’ before? Woowee…that woman give the devil a run for his money!”
I laughed again.
“Gonna need the two of us to keep things in order. She’s missing you something bad. She needs more than me and Vera to fuss at all doggone day. Vera said she’ll help out best she can. It’s what Pops would have wanted. Us working as a family is what would’ve made him proud, right?”
I nodded my head.
Daddy looked up at the clock. “I gotta get a move on if I’m gonna make that train. You keep practicing and I’ll be back before you know it.”
SEVEN
Arthur J. Audy Home Chicago, Illinois 1946
NEVER got a chance to say goodbye to my daddy when they took him to Parchman, or my grandpops ’fore he closed his eyes one night and never woke up. Seemed like when it came to people who mattered, there was always something that came between me and moving on. But on my last day at the Audy home, I finally had my chance to say what I needed ‘fore I was leaving for good. I hadn’t made friends here like Errol and Clem, but there was something about being in this place, knowing we were all in the same mess, made me feel closer to the boys in the band than I ever felt to anybody. Together we found music, or maybe music found us. Maybe they had a daddy or a momma telling them to hang on, that things were gonna get better. Maybe not. But for all of us, it was music that gave us some hope when everyone else let us down. And Mr. Danforth. He took time with me like I was someone worth taking time for. So, after I stripped all the sheets off my cot and said my goodbyes to everyone in my dorm, spending extra time with Clarence, I walked over to Mr. Danforth’s office with my trumpet.
“You all set?” he asked.
“Yessir,” I told him.
“Well, I know you’re not sad to be leaving this place, but I’m sad to see you leave, Lymon. You’ve been a huge asset to our band and—”
I couldn’t wait for his words when I needed to tell him mine. “Thank you, Mr. Danforth. For everything you taught me. Not just about music either. But when you were helping me, it reminded me of learning the guitar for the first time with my grandpops.”
“Well, you inherited a lot of talent from your grandfather I suspect.”
“And my daddy,” I reminded him.
“Of course, and your father. Wish I could let you take that trumpet with you, but…” He held out his hand to take it.
When I handed it to him, I hugged him at the same time and the trumpet hit his back. He looked a little surprised by the hugging. I was too.
“Well, thanks again, Mr. Danforth.”
I walked out the office and down the hall and waited on the bench outside Mr. Pinker’s office. I thought, seemed I spent more time waiting for my daddy than being with my daddy.
While I was waiting, another new boy came out the office with Marshall, who was showing him to the dormitory.
“What time’s your daddy coming?” Marshall asked me.
“Be here any minute,” I told him, looking at the big clock in the hallway.
“Okay then,” he said, nodding goodbye.
I didn’t know time could go by so slow. Just ’bout when I started wondering if this was gonna to be one of those times when I’d have to wait for the wind to change, the front doors to the home opened, and my daddy walked in, smiling big.
* * *
I barely let him take two steps ’fore I was on him, hugging hard as I could.
“If you choke me to death, you ain’t never gonna get out of this place.” He laughed. “Wait here and let me go sign these papers,” he said, and walked into the office.
I waited some more, but this time it didn’t feel like no time at all. When he came out, I asked, “We taking the train back?”
“Nah. I got a
ride from a friend.” Daddy picked up my bag. Wasn’t much to it, just a few sets of hand-me-down clothes the home gave me.
We walked down the hall together and stepped outside. The weather had finally started to get warm again, felt like summer was just ’round the corner.
Out at the curb, a car was waiting. The door opened on the driver’s side, and a tall man with white hair stepped out.
“Mr. Eugene?”
He came forward and shook my hand. “Looks like this head hasn’t been touched since I seen you last.” He smiled.
“Don’t think it has.” I smiled back.
“Well, let’s get you back to Milwaukee, and we’ll see what I can do,” he said to me, taking my bag.
I climbed into the backseat with my daddy up front.
Mr. Eugene turned on the radio and turned the button past all the talking and the static till he got to music. He stopped when he heard a guitar playing.
“That’s that new Muddy Waters song,” my daddy said.
Mr. Eugene stopped playing with the radio buttons then, turned up the sound and pulled away from the curb. We all sat back listening.
Well, it gettin’
Late on into the evenin’
and I feel like, like blowin’ my home…
We drove past houses and some of the streets I knew. Past all the stores and clubs, past St. Lawrence and out of Bronzeville and Chicago and to the highway. Mr. Eugene drove smooth and easy, and slow enough so I could try and read the signs. Finally I saw one that said WELCOME TO WISCONSIN.
I didn’t even look back.
Us
ONE
Milwaukee, Wisconsin 1946
WHEN we pulled up in front of the house, Daddy had to shake me awake. “We’re here, son,” he said, rubbing my head. The house looked smaller and broke down, but I couldn’t wait to get inside.
Mr. Eugene got out and took my bag from the trunk. “See you Saturday?” He winked at me.
“Yessir,” I told him.
“I’ve been doing all the cleaning since you left. Let’s just say, I’m gonna stick to barbering.” To Daddy he said, “Third Sunday’s next week, Grady. The men’s choir will be needing your help.”
“Yes Lord, don’t I know it.” Daddy laughed. “I heard you all last month.”
Mr. Eugene shook our hands hard and got back in the car. After he pulled off, we walked up the front steps, and Daddy opened the door. I held my breath. The house was quiet.
“Where is she?” I whispered.
“In back,” he said. “Ma, we’re here,” Daddy said out loud.
I set down my bag and walked to our bedroom.
Ma was sitting up in bed and I ran to her. She looked the same as I left her, but next to the bed was a chair on wheels.
“Careful now,” she said when I leaned in to hug her. I looked down where the blanket was flat next to her one leg.
“Does it hurt?” I asked her, still whispering.
“I don’t feel a thing,” she said. “Well…stand up and let me look at you.”
I stood and she was quiet. Her eyes took in every piece of me.
I turned to look for Daddy, but I could hear him in the kitchen.
“Ma—” I could see the water in her eyes. “Ma, you okay?”
“I am now,” she said. I sat back on the bed next to her. “You know they got me in this chair now to get around,” she said. “The doctors said they wasn’t sure I was gonna make it. Shows you how much they know.” She smiled, tired. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to leave Chicago to come on back to Milwaukee. Your momma…” Ma stopped and took a breath. “Sounds like you had a time there.”
I nodded. “Chicago was nice, but I’d rather be here with you and Daddy.”
“Now let me tell you something.” Ma sat up straighter in her bed, fixing her nightgown. “I told Grady, I don’t need to hear all the goings on about what happened with your momma, her husband, and that home. Your grandaddy would have said, ‘What’s done is done,’ but I’m not gonna stand for any foolishness here in my home.”
“Ma, I know. I’m not gonna—”
“Don’t tell me anything you can’t do. You act up here, you can take that mess right on back to your momma and Chicago.” Ma’s voice started getting louder.
“I don’t want to go back.” I looked her in her eyes. She looked so small now, sitting in bed. Her eyes were watery with dark circles underneath. Sitting here on her bed, she looked a lot less scary.
“I learned to play the trumpet,” I told her.
“Mmm-hmmm…” she said. “I don’t mind you playing, but you got to remember I need my rest too. You and Grady know this ain’t no juke joint. Can’t be playing all hours of the night.”
I put my head down then. “Ma…I don’t have Grandpops’ guitar. It’s gone.”
Ma closed her eyes. Looked like she was praying.
Heard her say, “…no kind of sense.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” I told her. “Maybe it was. I was trying…”
Ma put her hand on mine. “Your momma ain’t got no kind of sense. I told Grady from day one, that woman ain’t never gonna be any kind of mother. But he didn’t want to lis—”
I remembered Daddy telling me one day me and my momma gonna see things different. I don’t know if that day is ever gonna come, but one thing for sure, it ain’t coming for Ma. Before she got going good, I asked her, “You want anything from the kitchen?”
She stopped her talking about my momma. “Help me get into this chair. Ain’t no telling what Grady’s doing in there. He’ll have this whole house burned down.”
Ma wasn’t light as I would have liked, but she wasn’t heavy either. She showed me how to turn her so I could hold her under her arms and lift her into the chair.
Ma ain’t never have anything good to say about me, so when she said, “You getting strong,” I had to smile.
I tried to push her chair, but she smacked my hand away and pushed herself turning the wheels. She was faster in the chair than she was on her feet.
In the kitchen I saw Daddy had moved around everything so Ma could get to it. Kitchen table was all the way in the corner, and most of the food was in the bottom cabinets so she could reach. Ma told me and Daddy to get on out and she started cooking supper.
TWO
Milwaukee, Wisconsin 1946
TWO years in Chicago, and Milwaukee looked the same as when I left it. Daddy took me over to see Aunt Vera and Uncle Clark, and ’side from Aunt Vera looking bigger around the middle and her hair getting white ’round the edges, even she hadn’t changed. She just ’bout kissed me to death. Only this time, she had to stand on her toes to reach my face.
“Look how big he’s grown, Clark,” Aunt Vera said, like Uncle Clark couldn’t see with his own eyes. “And handsome too.” I hugged her tight when she said that. She didn’t say nothing ’bout my momma or the Audy home. She even made me my favorite coconut cake and put some candles on top too.
“It ain’t even my birthday.” I laughed.
“I know, baby, but I missed a couple,” she said, kissing me some more.
I ate just ’bout half the cake myself. When Daddy told me to slow down, Aunt Vera hushed him. “Let the boy eat,” she said.
Just like Daddy promised, he’s been going to work every day at the foundry with Uncle Clark. He don’t look happy going, but when he comes home, if he’s not too tired, or just finished working a double, he’ll take out his harmonica and show me how to play. Daddy says he’s working on getting me a new guitar, but I miss the trumpet too. Hoping I can get that on my own with the money I’m earning at Mr. Eugene’s. First day back in the barbershop, after all the customers left, Mr. Eugene asked, “You remember where I keep the rags?”
“Yessir,” I told him, going to the closet in back. But Mr. Eugene stopped me.
“I been thinking about our arrangement,” he said. I got scared thinking he changed his mind about me working for him.
“I told you I had to do
my own cleaning while you were gone.” I nodded, holding my breath. “Well, son, I think it’s time we discussed a raise.” Hearing him say “raise” made me think ’bout my momma and Robert, but I kept nodding.
“Starting today, I’m gonna pay you a little something every week plus one haircut. How does that sound?” I kept nodding. “Thank you, Mr. Eugene.”
Mr. Eugene laughed. “Don’t thank me yet. Dirty as this place is, chances are you’ll be asking for another raise before you’re through.”
Mr. Eugene was telling stories. The shop was about the same as when I left, probably cleaner. But I did just like I used to, wiping down everything in sight.
I climbed into the barber chair soon as I put everything away, and Mr. Eugene came and stood behind me. ‘Stead of reaching for his scissors, he put both his hands on my shoulders and looked at me in the mirror.
“Mind if we talk a minute?” he asked me.
Whenever grown folks are asking questions, I know it’s gonna be something I don’t want to answer.
I nodded my head to the mirror.
“I know you had a time back in Chicago,” he started. I breathed in loud and heavy, hoping this talk wasn’t gonna take long.
“Before you start that huffing and puffing, I got something I want to tell you.” Mr. Eugene turned my chair to the side and sat in the chair next to mine.
“A few years back, when I was your age”—I smiled even though I didn’t want to—“I got into a little bit of trouble,” he said.
“You?” Mr. Eugene didn’t look like the type who was even late for school.
“Yeah me. I was young and hardheaded. Started hanging out with some knuckleheads.”
“What happened?” I asked him.
“Well, that’s what I want to talk to you about. It doesn’t matter what happened then. All that matters is what happens now,” he said.
I nodded.
“Do you understand what I’m telling you, son?”
I nodded again. “You saying, don’t worry ’bout the past?”
Leaving Lymon Page 12