Color the Sidewalk for Me

by Brandilyn Collins

  “So you got to keep it real quiet, okay? Nobody else knows we’re goin’ except Miss Jessie and Cousin Lee. He’s gonna lend us money for the bus.”

  We were unusually quiet when Mary Lee picked us up, her boyfriend, Mike, beside her. She took in my red eyes and Danny’s stone face with a glance. “It’s been a hard week for you, hasn’t it?” she said, patting me on the shoulder.

  If she only knew.

  April rolled in with a hint of warmth, daffodils blooming. My seventeenth birthday came and went, uncelebrated. Mama was too wrapped up in her own grief; Daddy never remembered dates. Danny was ashamed that he had no money for a present. “Even if you did,” I told him, “you should save it for leaving.” Kevy spent three weeks of his allowance on a set of watercolors, which he presented me with great pride.

  One by one my friends turned seventeen also. Mona was in Danny’s class and would be eighteen in October but was distressed that nobody was coming to call. Barbara excitedly awaited her seventeenth birthday in June. Somehow she’d managed to meet an Albertsville boy her parents approved of. Evidently, that town wasn’t total Sin City after all.

  Bobby Delham worked up his courage to catch me at school one day. “Celia, got a minute?” He had grown to be good-looking—tall and quiet, his generous lips known for their rueful smile. He was dependable and gentle. Well-liked and respected. And I could never love him.

  He licked his lips, chocolate brown eyes gazing at me fondly. “I know it’s a bad time to visit your folks, so I don’t want to do that unless I know you’d . . . What I’m tryin’ to say is, now that you’re seventeen, would you go out with me if they said it was all right?”

  My face froze. I didn’t want to hurt him, but the thought of Mama gladly accepting his request made me sick inside. “I’m sorry,” I replied quietly. “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  He flicked his eyes in frustration. “Celia, that’s not goin’ to happen; you know that. And meanwhile I’m here. I’ve always been here. I’ve liked you since eighth grade.”

  I’ve loved you for years. Danny’s words floated through my head.

  “I know, Bobby. And you’re right—it’s not fair. But I can’t help what I feel.”

  “You’re not as smart as I thought you were, Celia.” His voice thickened with hurt. “Go on, then; I’ll leave you alone. Someday you’ll be sorry. And then you’ll come to me.”

  Within a month he started dating Melissa. Sometimes I’d see him drive by in his daddy’s car on the way to her house, slowing down for a glimpse of me.

  The days were both quiet and frothing, uneventful and filled with emotion. The whole town missed Granddad. I couldn’t go anywhere without hearing about him and his stories. It must have driven Mama crazy, those war tales popping up even after his death. No one could miss him as much as I did. Once my heart had been full. Now there was a hole in it. That was Granddad.

  In my grief God seemed very far away. “Why did you take him so soon?” I’d rail at the heavens. “Before Mama could soften to him and when I need him so much? If this is your idea of a plan for us, I don’t want any part of it!”

  Danny and I stole away when we could, holding each other in a field or on Mary Lee’s couch, hanging on to the time we had with quiet desperation. He was studying hard for senior finals and still working at home. “The farm,” he said bitterly one day, shrugging, “can burn to the ground for all I care. All that work. All my life. And what has it got me?” Sometimes his eyes would fill with that faraway look, and I’d know he was thinking about those ships, big as buildings. Jealousy and fear would well within me. Danny, I know you have to go, I’d cry inside, but don’t leave me with your heart.

  I had a full-time job for the summer, baby-sitting the Harding kids, and I was glad for it. I didn’t care about the money, but I did need something to keep me busy after Danny left.

  After Danny left.

  It became a finality in my thoughts, a day when time would stop. To think of a summer without him or walking alone through the school hallway next fall. Most of all to think of the look on Mama’s face when she heard Danny had gone, fleeing into the night with his mama without a backward glance for me. How smug she would be, how vindictive. “I told you he’d break your heart,” I could hear her say. “I told you he’d leave.” And I’d have to endure it in silence for a whole year until I could run to him, taking my money—my fortune—which could have been hers.

  Then one day in early May Danny didn’t come to school. And after that things happened quickly, like a broken clock spinning its hands around and around.

  Maybe he’s just sick, I told myself when he hadn’t shown up after second period. But I knew it was something else. Danny’s absence could only signal trouble.

  I hung around our living room all evening, desperate for a chance to call his house but finding none. The following day he was absent again. Dear God, please protect him, I prayed. After school I told Kevy I had an errand to run and set off downtown to Miss Jessie’s sewing shop. “What’s wrong with Danny?” I whispered breathlessly, leading her aside. “He hasn’t been at school for two days.”

  Dread rimmed her eyes. “Maybe he’s sick.”

  “Danny’s never sick.”

  Absently she set the pincushion in her hand down on a worktable. “I don’t dare go out there if something’s wrong. And Lee’s at the mill.”

  “Phone them.”

  She did but got no answer.

  Fear built up inside me. “I’m goin’ over there right now.”

  “No, you’re not!”

  “Yes, I am, Miss Jessie; he could be in trouble. What if his daddy found out they’re leavin’? What if his mama’s hurt? What if he’s hurt?” I tossed my books down and turned to run, not caring about her employees’ stares.

  “No, Celia!” She caught my arm. “You can’t. If something’s goin’ on, it’s too dangerous. You know that. You’ve seen it.”

  I couldn’t look at her. We’d never spoken of that summer day almost two years ago. “I don’t care what that man does to me; I just want to see if Danny’s all right.”

  “Celia! Listen to me. What if nothing’s wrong and you show up? You could spoil it all. You could tip off Anthony that Danny’s plannin’ something. Don’t do it.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  “I’ll call Lee at the mill. Maybe he can run over.”

  When Lee finally came to the phone, he said he’d drive to the Canders’ right away. I waited for what seemed an eternity, hands clenched. Every time the phone rang, I jumped. Finally Lee called from the Canders’ house. He’d been through every room and the barn, he said, fearing at each turn what he might see. But no one was home and the truck was gone. There wasn’t a thing we could do.

  “It’s probably nothing,” Miss Jessie consoled. “All this anxiety, and you’ll find out they just went into Albertsville. Go home now. Don’t worry.”

  Again there was no chance to try calling Danny from home. Miss Jessie promised me Lee would stop by the Canders’ again after work, and if anything had changed, he’d let me know. Mama had plenty of questions, wondering where I’d gone after school and eyeing me suspiciously when I said I’d visited Miss Jessie to talk about babysitting. By the time I’d done the supper dishes, I couldn’t stand it anymore, pulling Daddy into my bedroom and begging him to let me have the car to check on Danny.

  “Celia, I can’t let you go to his house alone.”

  “Then come with me, but I have to see if he’s okay. Please. It’s the last thing I’ll ever ask you!”

  Mama rounded the corner at the worst moment, carrying a folded stack of clothes. “Young lady,” she announced, glaring accusingly at Daddy, “you’re not goin’ anywhere.”

  That night I couldn’t sleep. Staring out my window at the streetlight, I begged God for Danny’s protection. I just knew something terrible had happened. I felt it.

  chapter 45

  For a lon
g time after that day, Bradleyville would rattle with macabre fascination over the event. But no one else really knew what had taken place. Danny couldn’t tell me the details at school with all the eager ears around. Not until we could sneak out again would I finally hear the full story. When we met each other on a Saturday, once again courtesy of Mary Lee, we sat on the log across the dirt road where I’d cried into his jacket. Wearily he told me, his voice streaked with sadness.

  “The first morning I didn’t come to school,” Danny began, scuffing at the ground with his shoe, “we’d gotten a call from Lee’s great uncle, needin’ to talk about our arrival in Miami. Plus he needed information to fill out papers for us. Daddy was up early for some reason and he overheard Mama talking. He said he’d kill us both.

  “So I stayed around the house, not leavin’ Mama’s side, letting him know that to get to her he’d have to go through me first, and he’d be right sorry for trying. I wasn’t goin’ to start anything, afraid a what I’d do to finish it and thinking he just wasn’t worth ruining my life. But if he made one move, I was ready.

  “Something strange settled on me that day and the next, Celia, while I waited, steppin’ around Daddy, steppin’ in front a Mama. I knew something was going to come of it all, ’cause I sure wasn’t about to give up my plans a leaving, and Daddy wasn’t about to let us go. Meantime Mama and I prayed a lot and did chores while Daddy drank, swallowin’ that whiskey in between shooting his mouth off, cursing and yelling like a crazy fool. By the second day Mama and me was so tired. We hadn’t gotten any sleep that night, sitting up behind my locked bedroom door with a chair pushed under the knob. He disappeared the next afternoon, probably sleeping it off in the field, and we left in the truck, catchin’ a nap under some bushes way down the riverbank. After supper time had come and gone, we got hungry and slunk home. He still wasn’t there. And neither was the shotgun he always kept in the back closet off the kitchen.”

  Danny fell silent for a moment, his green eyes glinting in the dappled sunlight. “It’s hard to explain, thinkin’ back on it. But like I said, something strange happened to me. Staring at the empty closet corner where the gun always stood, I told myself this was it, and may God help me. We had the truck. I coulda taken Mama over to Cousin Lee’s and fetched Bill Scutch. We coulda hid out for the night. But what then? Another day like that one, and another? Waitin’ for my daddy to come busting through the door, drunk and steel-eyed mean, a loaded shotgun in his hands? It was a long minute, Celia, staring at that corner. I remembered so many things right then. I thought a my earliest memories, hearing Daddy holler at Mama. Her soft voice begging him not to wake me. I thought a fights at school, the way the kids looked and whispered. Gerald Henley’s nose goin’ crunch. You and Mr. Rose. And that time I saw you standing in the field, watching my daddy and me fight. I thought I’d die that day. And kissing you the first time, telling you I loved you. Looking for you at school every day, my heart dropping at the sight a you. I thought a the plans Mama and I had for going and what a price I was paying for it, leavin’ you behind. And somehow all a that, my whole life, came down to staring at that empty corner. I prayed to God for help and wisdom. I had no idea then what I would do.”

  “Oh, Danny,” I whispered, pushing the hair off his forehead. “It’s okay.”

  Danny told his mama to lock herself in his bedroom and slide furniture against the door. “Now listen to me, Mama,” he commanded, looking down on her white face. “No matter what you hear, you don’t come out unless I tell you. Understand?”

  She gazed at him with a mother’s fear. “He’ll kill you, Danny.”

  “No, he ain’t. Now git on inside.”

  Mr. Cander came home after dark. He thumped up the steps, bellowing for his son, the shotgun trailing from one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. Danny appeared out of a shadow and eased the gun away. “Evenin’, sir,” he said quietly. “Been waitin’ for you.”

  “Gimme back my gun, boy; I’m gonna need it! Where’s that no-good mama a yours?”

  “Sleepin’. Come on, Daddy, let’s sit on the porch, talk awhile.”

  Bleary-eyed, his father processed the invitation. “Awright. We’ll share the whiskey.”

  They sat on the porch, Danny’s father swigging the bottle hungrily. Danny pretended to take his own sips. He knew he should stop his father; the man had probably drunk enough to near kill himself. But fear for his mama stopped him. He couldn’t risk getting his daddy riled up.

  Finally the bottle emptied. Danny felt sure his daddy would pass out. Instead the man swayed to his feet. “Le’s go get in the truck and head outta town,” he slurred. “’Member how fast I used to take those curves when you was little, laughin’ when you was scared silly? I’ll show ya how fast I can take ’em now.”

  “No, Daddy,” Danny said. “You’re too drunk.”

  His daddy guffawed long and loud. “Ho, boy,” he bragged, “you know how good I am at those curves; I could take ’em with my eyes closed, no matter how much I been drinkin’.”

  “Don’t do it, Daddy; not this time.”

  Mr. Cander started down the steps, using the banister for support. “Come with me, boy. We’ll have a good ol’ time, roust some chickens right outta their beds.”

  Danny opened his mouth to protest again. Then closed it.

  His daddy thwacked the banister. “Aw, never mind; I’ll jus’ go by myself.”

  Danny did not stop him. He stood on the porch, watching his daddy stumble to the truck, open the door, fall in. The engine rumbled. Tires spinning, the truck spun around as his daddy drove away, kicking up dust that swirled in the fingertips of the porch light. The last thing Danny saw was the one unbroken red taillight as the truck skidded onto the road.

  Danny couldn’t believe what he’d done. As guilt and fear hit him in the chest, he told himself that what happened next was in God’s hands. Feigning calm, he walked on shaky legs to knock at his own bedroom door, telling his mama she could come out.

  Danny had not allowed himself to think the worst. He never thought his daddy would be hurt badly. Perhaps just enough to need a day or two of doctoring—giving Danny time to send his mama safely to Florida. But the outcome made Danny now believe God would judge him for not saving his father. I insisted that wasn’t so. It wasn’t Danny’s fault; his daddy had brought it all on himself. To the very end Anthony Cander fought for the last word. And in a way he won. You could argue he was too drunk to know what he was doing. Maybe. But he was also mean and small-hearted, hating his son for the goodness he saw in him, blaming the town of Bradleyville for his own wretchedness. For that, I believe, he decided not to turn right at Main Street. Instead he yanked the steering wheel into a rubber-burning left turn, then went flying over the railroad tracks and screaming through town.

  The skid marks told the rest of the tale. Flooring the accelerator after bouncing at an angle off the tracks, he managed to straighten out momentarily. Then he lost control. Why did he have to hit Tull’s? Danny wondered. I’d guess that was his daddy’s final act of rebellion against the town. Tull’s, where Danny had sent him reeling in front of the town patriarch. Tull’s, the watering hole of Bradleyville.

  Maybe in the recesses of his mind Mr. Cander knew. Maybe not. Whatever he was thinking, in that split second he jerked the wheel left again. He careened across the street and smashed up the curb in metal-grinding flight to sail through Tull’s front window, smearing medicine, lotions, and tooth powder over the aisles. The truck crashed into the red-cushioned booth where Granddad had sat, and stopped with a jolt at the crushed soda fountain, its broken pipes spraying the felled stools, the truck, and the wasted merchandise. Mr. Cander’s head punched through the windshield, his torso slamming against the twisted steering wheel and its horn, sending it braying eerily into the shattered night.

  Two deaths in such a short time in Bradleyville. But the town did not mourn the passing of Anthony Cander. There was no funeral, no eulogies. Neither Danny nor his mama wante
d that. Instead he was buried by his wife and son in a wooden box out among the daisies of the field in which I once stood, frozen in horror, witnessing his drunken wrath.

  “I feel so many different things,” Danny said, weeping quietly as we held each other, sitting on the fallen oak. “I killed my daddy as surely as if I’d taken that shotgun to him. I pray for forgiveness but I don’t know if God’s hearin’ me. I feel so tired. And empty. At the same time, the house is peaceful and I feel such relief about that, for Mama and me.

  “After the terrible sin I done, that relief is the worst of all.”

  chapter 46

  With less than a month to go before Danny graduated from school, he and his mama put their dilapidated farm up for sale, accepting the first bid that came along, afraid it would be their last. Danny used the proceeds to pay off the mortgage and buy a used Chevrolet Impala. By the time he’d paid Mr. Tull for the damages, apologizing with his head hung and dreaming of the day when he’d never have to face the man again, he had only enough money to drive to Miami. There was no need to keep quiet about leaving now. And throughout the town, people looked at me with a mixture of pity and vindication. “He’s runnin’ off,” I could imagine them whispering. “His daddy shamed her and now he’s turnin’ tail, him and his quiet mama. That’s what happens, you get mixed up with the wrong kind.”

  Amid all the tumult Danny studied hard to the end. The final day of school he picked up his diploma early, as he’d arranged with the principal. We stood on the sidewalk, staring at the diploma, the June humidity a soggy blanket around our shoulders. For my own piece of paper we’d spend a year apart. He and his mama planned to leave early in the morning. They were packed and had been squeezing into the Hardings’ house for the past week. At that moment I was willing to leave my inheritance and all respect behind and run off with them.