Color the Sidewalk for Me

by Brandilyn Collins

  I just about had myself convinced, too, when I glimpsed a figure perched on the highest boulder on the riverbank.

  I’ve sometimes thought that life’s essence is a series of pictures emblazoned on the walls of my mind, each capturing the passion of a certain time. My mother’s face after I colored the sidewalk for her. Baby Kevy’s first smile. Granddad’s animated expression as he perched in his chair at Tull’s, Jake Lewellyn’s bulldog jowls reddened and Hank Jenkins’ mouth in a wide guffaw. My brother’s panic-stricken eyes as he bobbed helplessly in the swift current. And now Danny, seated on the rock in one-quarter profile, elbows resting on bent knees, fingers idly linked, the curve of his spine trailing down his green shirt. He was looking across the water, his figure cut out and pasted against the cloudless sky.

  Kevy called a joyous greeting and Danny’s head jerked around. I felt my mouth open to form some witty remark as we approached. “Hi,” I said.

  His smile was tentative as he jumped down. “Hi back.”

  My heart scudded as he playfully traded punches with Kevy. “Hey, fisherman of Bradleyville, mind if your sister and I git under some shade while you set to work?”

  “Okay,” Kevy replied, disappointed, “but will you talk to me later, too?”

  Danny promised he would.

  We walked upriver in awkward silence. He’s come to say he won’t be seeing me anymore, I thought. By the time we reached our oak canopy, I had steeled myself, and I boldly sat facing him when he sank cross-legged into the soft grass. Our knees were an inch apart, my hands a mere movement from his. I wasn’t about to make it easy by sitting beside him where he wouldn’t have to look at me.

  He focused for a while on his own lap. The silence was uncomfortable but I refused to break it. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’m real sorry for the way I done you.”

  Similar words rose to my lips but I held them back.

  “It’s just . . .” He exhaled slowly, picking at a loose fiber on his beige shorts. “He’s not always like that, my daddy. I can’t tell you how I felt, knowin’ you . . .” His voice trailed away. “Most a the time he just drinks at night, ’specially on weekends, then sleeps it off. But once in a while he gets mean. I had to watch out for that all my life, ’cause we never knew when it was comin’.” He swallowed, his throat clicking.

  Little Danny Cander, I thought, achip on his shoulder and wariness in his eyes.

  “Anyway, that’s how he was two weeks ago, grumbling around, touchy as a hornet.” Danny’s eyes flicked up at me, then away. “I wanted to see you real bad, Celia. Only I couldn’t leave Mama with him actin’ like that. I thought a you waiting for me and I felt miserable. I figured maybe I could sneak a call to you that night, explain what happened, tell you I was right sorry.” Danny smoothed the thread against his shorts. “So I was just doin’ some chores in the barn, keeping an ear out. Then I heard Mama yell, and I set off runnin’ so fast, I forgot to drop the feed bucket I was carrying; it was like my hand was froze to it. Until I saw her on the ground. And then I just . . . busted apart.”

  I’d begun to portion my breathing, afraid that if I made one sound, I’d break the spell and Danny’s words would trickle to nothingness.

  “Celia, I ain’t never done that before. I always had to watch my mama get beat, waitin’ for the day I’d be big enough to take my daddy on. I feel guilty over it and I’ve prayed for forgiveness, but at least me finally standing up to him worked. It ain’t been easy the last two weeks, but one thing’s clear between us—he won’t touch my mama again as long as I’m around.” His fingers twisted the thread. “You can’t understand what it’s been like, Celia, livin’ like that all the time.”

  No, I could not understand. I could barely imagine it. Picturing my own household, I was suddenly filled with shame at my constant complaints. All my troubles with Mama disintegrated into dust at the mere comparison.

  “You’re the last person on this earth I ever woulda wanted there, Celia. When I looked up, I couldn’t believe it was you. And I was so hurt deep inside that I just took everything out on you. I didn’t mean to.”

  My hands slid out of my lap to cover his, stop him from tormenting the thread. He grasped them and held on. “I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I didn’t know. I just wanted to see you so much. And I thought that if I walked through the field, maybe I’d meet you on the way.”

  “I had no right hurtin’ you like that. I never raised my hand to a girl before, never. There I was, acting as bad as my daddy. I was stunned at what I’d done. My mama liked to die a shame after you run away. She ain’t let me forgit it yet.”

  I almost smiled, picturing Danny’s mama scolding him in fury. “Then why didn’t you come last week?”

  “I couldn’t imagine you bein’ here. I figured after all that, you’d never want to talk to me again. And even if you was here, I didn’t know how I’d face you.”

  “I was mad. Because of the way you treated me. I thought you never wanted to see me again. But I still came, just in case. I was willin’ to face you.” I hadn’t meant to sound so challenging but it couldn’t be helped. He’d beaten his daddy unconscious, yet he couldn’t even talk to me? “Do you know what these two weeks have been like?”

  “They been awful for me, Celia, more’n you’ll ever know. I thought about you every minute, wondering what you was doin’. Wondering if you hated me. Hating myself for losin’ the thing I’d pined after for so long.”

  A vague anticipation seeped through my chest. “What do you mean?”

  Rubbing my thumb, he watched the brown skin whiten under his touch. “This is real hard for me.”

  “I know. But it’s okay.”

  He concentrated on my thumb. The skin blanched, faded back to brown. “I always knew that ’cause of my daddy I was different,” he said finally. “So I fought a lot as a kid ’cause I thought I had somethin’ to prove. Then one time when I was eleven years old—you probably don’t even remember it—I had a fight with Gerald Henley on the playground. I busted his nose.”

  “I remember that.”

  “Oh. Well, Gerald had said somethin’ about my daddy. But you stood up for me. Nobody had ever done that before.” He was back to the fascination of my thumb.

  “Go on.”

  “Well, I just couldn’t forgit it. And I started carin’ about you. Right then.”

  The feeling in my chest crystallized. Right then? Right then was five years ago. I couldn’t comprehend that. All the times I’d seen him in the hallway at school only for him to look at his feet. All the times Kevy and I had fished at the river in our spot, Danny’s spot, a half mile from his house. A thought flashed through my head. “Were you ever at the river when I was; I mean before Kevy almost drowned?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled ruefully. “Lots a times. I took to lookin’ for you but I never dared show my face. I figured you’d just run off.”

  No, this could not be true. The Danny I knew now, feeling like this since I was ten? While I giggled like an idiot with my friends over Bobby and Randy and Lyle? “Then why did you show your face in May?”

  He raised a shoulder. “Your brother looked like he was in trouble, tryin’ to cross that current. Watchin’ him made me forgit myself. And after that I just couldn’t believe I was talkin’ to you every week. It made me real happy, but I was scared silly that one day you’d think, ‘Now just what’m I doin’ with a boy like that?’ and you’d quit comin’. So when I saw you at my house the very day I took my daddy on, I was so ashamed. What I’m tryin’ to say is, what I done wasn’t right. But I only done it ’cause I was so afraid I’d lost you. Then afterward I just knew you’d hate me.”

  I shook my head. “I couldn’t hate you. I came last week, hopin’ you’d be here.”

  I thought my fingers would break beneath his grip. “You’re sure what you saw don’t matter? It don’t change your mind about me?”

  “No.” My voice cracked. “I mean, it matters ’cause it’s hard for you. But I want t
o be with you, not your daddy. Besides,” I said, sniffing, “you should see my mama sometimes; she can be a real bear.” Drat it, I did not want to cry; my nose would run and I’d look terrible. But I couldn’t swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry for hurtin’ you.”

  “It don’t matter now.” He caught a strand of my hair and pressed it wonderingly between his fingers. “What matters is what you’re sayin’. And hearin’ you say it, I just can’t keep it back no more; I got to let you know how I feel. I love you, Celia. I’ve loved you for years.”

  The word burst through my chest like silver ashes, warm and shimmering.

  Then he looked at me the way he’d done three weeks ago, and suddenly I understood the longing in his eyes when I’d so flippantly remarked that he could have anything he wanted. How stupid I’d been not to see it before.

  In all my dreams of kissing Danny, I hadn’t counted on the salty taste of tears on my lips or the way we leaned awkwardly toward each other over crossed legs, back muscles pulling. Still, it was better than all imagining. His mouth was softer than I’d expected, and there was a warm rush followed by a coolness as he breathed. Our heads tilted naturally, moving in rhythm. At some point I slipped a hand around his neck and he wound fingers in my hair. I think he was shaking. I know I was. If only I could tell Barbara, I thought. And Melissa. And Mona.

  It was wonderful.

  chapter 26

  When Kevy and I got home, Daddy was reading the newspaper in his chair, groaning to Granddad over an article about gasoline prices. Daddy looked settled, but I had the distinct impression Granddad had just plopped down on the couch after prowling at the window, watching for our return. Kevy lugged his bucket of smelly fish into the kitchen, then headed for Reid’s house. I hugged Daddy and dropped a kiss on Granddad’s balding head. “Where’s Mama?”

  “At the IGA.”

  “Mm.” I crossed my arms and eyed him. Chagrin flicked across his face, and he reached for a section of the paper. Daddy watched us curiously.

  “Well, what’s on your mind, missy?” Granddad drawled.

  “You knew he’d be there.”

  His cheeks wrinkled into a smile. “He was, was he? That’s wonderful, missy. You two talk out your troubles?”

  “Granddad,” I said. “You went to see him, didn’t you?”

  “Thomas,” Daddy exclaimed, “what have you been up to now!”

  “Daddy, you won’t tell, will you?” I asked hastily, just as I’d done with Kevy. If Mama only knew how we all plotted behind her back.

  “Scout’s honor.” Daddy raised his palm.

  If ever a man could summon innocence across his features, it was Thomas Bradley. “Well, I ain’t got a clue what either a you is talkin’ about.”

  “Thursday night, Granddad? Your little errand? You had to have the car, nobody could go with you?”

  He shook his head with mock wonder. “You still stewin’ over that? I declare—”

  “Granddad.”

  “—cain’t an ol’ man have a minute to hisself once in a while—”

  “Granddad.”

  “—without the whole durned family breathin’ down his neck?”

  My eyes rolled. “What Danny must have thought, you showin’ up at his house. He probably figured you had a loaded pistol under your shirt.”

  Daddy laughed. A smile tugged at Granddad’s lips.

  “In case you’re wondering”—I sat beside him, shoving away the newspaper—“he didn’t tell me your little secret; I figured it out on my own. Thank you, Granddad. If you hadn’t gone, he wouldn’t have been there.”

  He reflected on that, staring at the floor. When he raised his eyes to me, they glimmered. “You got to give the ol’ man credit for knowin’ a thing or two.”

  With a rush of gratitude I hugged him, feeling the jut of his shoulder blades beneath my arms. Chuckling, he patted me on the back.

  “You took a chance goin’ out there, Thomas,” Daddy said. “How’d you explain to Anthony you wanted to talk to his boy?”

  Granddad scoffed. “Anthony ain’t gonna hurt me; we git along just fine. I just chatted awhile with him and Patricia, sayin’ I’d had a mind to visit for some time. Danny hung around the kitchen like a nervous puppy. So after a bit I says, ‘Well, Danny, I ain’t had the chance to talk to you since Lee and Jessie’s weddin’, and you were a right bit smaller. How about you and me takin’ a walk afore I git on back home? I’ll tell you about the time in Korea I earned my third medal.’”

  “What did his daddy do?” I pressed.

  “He was suspicious but he waved us on. Patricia knew but she’d never say.”

  “Do you think he knows?” The thought of Mr. Cander finding out about Danny and me struck fear in my chest. “’Cause I’m afraid of what he might do to Danny.”

  “Don’t you worry none; I don’t think he’s any the wiser.”

  “Thomas,” Daddy declared, “you are an amazing man.”

  “Oh, Granddad.” I hugged him again. “Thank you so much. For everything.”

  Making amends with Mama would be harder; my feelings toward her remained ambivalent. Dealing with her had been as easy as biscuits and gravy compared with Danny’s living with his daddy, but I still couldn’t help balancing my mama against his. Mrs. Cander seemed saturated with the tenderness that had slipped away from Mama long ago, had she ever possessed it. Except for Kevy; Mama did have a soft spot for him. All the same, I asked God’s forgiveness for the fierce arguments I’d hurled at her, even if she had given me good cause. With the exhilaration of the moment, I was prepared in turn to graciously forgive Mama her worst ills. I had little choice, for I would be at the mercy of her petulance if she decided my sudden happiness signaled danger and cut off my contact with Danny. Not trusting my own failing courage, I made a point to talk with her as soon as she got home.

  “I’ll get the rest of the food,” I offered when she came panting up the back kitchen steps, a brown grocery bag in each arm. Her eyes traveled across my face before she brushed past me.

  “Thank you,” she said shortly, putting the bags on the counter.

  I finished the job hastily, then plunged. “Mama, thank you for lettin’ me go today.”

  She was too busy folding a bag to look up. “You’re welcome.”

  I hesitated, a bunch of celery cool in my hands. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve acted.”

  The rustling of the paper bag ceased. “You’re gettin’ along with Danny again, is that it? So now you can be civil to your own family?”

  I cringed at her tone but my face remained placid. “We’re gettin’ along but it’s a lot more than that. Seein’ the way his daddy is and what he’s had to live with, I—”

  “You see now that your own witch of a mother isn’t half as bad.”

  “No, Mama, I just—”

  “Celia.” She faced me, a hand on her hip, her voice low with anger. “You’ve been awful. You’ve whirled around this house like nobody mattered but Danny. You’ve moped in your room, makin’ people come to you like you’re some kind of princess. You’ve screamed at your brother, not seemin’ to care he almost died two months ago.”

  The last sentence hit my chest like a bullet. “And he would have,” I retorted, “if Danny hadn’t saved him.”

  “Yes. And I’ll be forever grateful to him for that. But I hadn’t thought I’d be payin’ for it with my own daughter.”

  Paying for it? My mouth hung open as I searched for a worthy reply.

  “Look, Celia.” Mama put her hands on my shoulders. “You’re growin’ up. But you’re still too young to have a boy come callin’.”

  “I’m not askin’—”

  “Just listen. For once in your life, just listen to me.” Her hold on me tightened. “There’s one thing I’ve got that you don’t. I’ve been your age. But you’ve never been mine. There are things you can’t possibly understand yet. When I was fifteen, I liked a boy, too. Now I’m your mama and I have to worry about what’s
right for you.”

  Danny is what’s right for me, I thought.

  “I can’t control your feelin’s. But I can control what you do, whether you like it or not. So let’s get some things clear. First, I have a right to know as much as I can about whatever boy you like, for your own protection. And second, I have a right to peace in my own house—from you and from Dad’s battle stories too, by the way, which I will detest to my dyin’ day. Do you understand?”

  I gazed at her, fervently wishing that my answer could be yes, remembering the revelation of a wretchedly disappointed six-year-old on a colored sidewalk. I hadn’t understood my mama then and I could not understand her now. True to character, she had spoken of her rights. And I could only view her “protection” of me, lacking the loving touches that should have bolstered it, as control. As for Granddad, he gave me everything she did not, and in return she denied him his utmost, harmless enjoyment.

  “Celia. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “All right then.” She turned back to the counter.

  A picture of Danny’s mama floated through my head—her arms wrapped around him, smoothing his hair, comforting him as he cried. The only time I could remember half as much gentleness from my mother was when she’d almost hugged me after I helped save Kevy from drowning. The grocery bags rustled as Mama slid them into the cabinet below the sink, bumping the door shut.

  “And about Danny,” she continued as she put milk in the refrigerator. “If it’ll keep peace in this house a few more weeks, I’m willin’ to let you go to the river on Saturdays until school starts. With Kevin right beside you, hear? Once summer’s over, that’ll stop; you can see Danny at school.”

  Slowly I placed a box of rice in a cabinet. Seeing Danny at school was all I’d do. We wouldn’t have a moment to ourselves, with the whole school watching. Didn’t Mama realize how merely eating lunch with him would send gossip rippling through town? Not that I’d care, but Mama spent so much time keeping me “proper,” I couldn’t believe she’d stand for it.

  “That’s fair, isn’t it?” she challenged.