His Own Where

Home > Other > His Own Where > Page 5
His Own Where Page 5

by June Jordan


  “Well, Miss Angela, you have in mind to sit on your behind and watch me slave a little bit?”

  “Oh, Ma. Look, if you want me to do something tell me straight.”

  “Now you criticize the way I talk?”

  “I only mean why we have to fight? Tell me what you want me to be doing. Period. I’ll do it.”

  “If you so smart about the way I should be talking you don’t need me to tell you nothing at all. For all I care you can go on and sit there, or stand upside down. I’m going out.”

  “Ma, you want me to go back upstate?”

  “You got yourself into that mess.”

  “Ma, Daddy put me in the hospital. He beat me.”

  “I don’t care what you do but do it out my sight. Don’t let me hear you say no words about your father.”

  “Ma, I be going back upstate tonight. Right now.”

  “Well, what you waiting for? You see anybody stop you?”

  Angela look at her mother long. She look around the room. Small room. Big empty dust feeling to the furniture. Dust.

  Angela pick up the paper bag. Finally she take the housekey from her pocket. Put it on the television. “Okay, Ma, I’m going now,” she say. And Angela go. She leave for good.

  fourteen

  angela hope buddy be home. They have plan for Sunday. But the day is now. Friday.

  She walk the avenue toward the subway and his house. Somebody come up from behind and hug around her close and large.

  “Hey, where you going Angela?”

  “See you.” She turn around and into Buddy arms. Repeat. “See you.”

  They quick discuss the scene. They figure that tonight be safe enough. The nuns think Angela be visiting her parents and her parents think that Angela be traveling back to Middlebrook. Things seem temporary cool. Both Buddy and Angela feel excited trembling almost almost ready for the liberation they have scheme together.

  “You have any money?”

  Buddy nod his head.

  “Maybe we should pick some food up.”

  “Okay. Let’s go buy some bananas, some potato chips, some ice cream, and some soda. What you want?”

  “I like a hamburger, some tissues and some soap.”

  “You need any of them—ah, what you may call female things?”

  “If I do, I get them on my own time, Mr. Rivers!”

  “Don’t say I didn’t ask you!”

  “Angela, what you think about this store?”

  Got burglar gates and great big locks. You can’t hardly go inside the place. Place be halfway burn. Ashes on the floor.

  “Look like a jail where food be taken out on bail.”

  Angela answer nothing.

  Inside the store, they nudge each other when they see a roach slip by. Buy what they want. Buddy crumple up his dollar bills before he turn them over to the man.

  “Don’t be right to give them something green and pretty.”

  They run back to Buddy block.

  “Come on, come on, let’s get inside! We got one night.”

  Angela start laughing when she see the steps. Black and yellow just like Buddy wrote. They take them two at a time, two at a time.

  First thing Angela notice when she step in the door, she smell sawdust, airplane glue and paint. Angela just standing by the door, make her eyes roam around the house.

  Her eyes be roaming around the house.

  The house very surprising. From the street it look like a three-floor brownstone. The outside stone steps take you to the front door, and that front door take you inside. And then, the big surprising part of the house begin because you see no hallway. No hallway. There be indoor stairs lead to a third floor. The indoor stairs be part of the living room on the second floor where you be standing inside the house.

  The third floor be like a balcony, tore back from the downstairs living room and overlook that living room.

  Most of the living room reach from the second floor, where you standing, to the roof. And, in a funny place, not really in the center of the ceiling of the roof, there be a stain-glass skylight, blue and red and purple and plain light, high up in the ceiling/roof of the living room.

  So the house seem huge inside it. Huge and high. With the stairways zigzag on the side. Some of the steps unstained, unpainted. Maybe two piece of furniture in the living room. A easy chair. A portable TV.

  Plants of lumber lean against the walls, and one window almost floor to ceiling, with a brandnew sticker on the corner of it. The other window be broken brick by brick. And temporary cardboard block the air until the wall will hold a longer pane of glass.

  The wall be plaster rough. Some paper stripping curl toward the floor, and other parts be painted blue already.

  Angela feel like she walking in a magazine before the final photograph be taken of the house. Before everything be finish.

  No hallway. Angela stare hard to see a house where people live without a hallway. That mean every part of the house is real. It belong to somebody, and be part of how you live, not how you get to where you live, and be.

  Buddy calling “Come on, Sister Angela.” Buddy pound down the stairs, drop the package, and pound back up. “See how much weight you gain.”

  Buddy lift her to his shoulder, tell her, “Hold on.”

  Buddy walking tiptoe tremble, make believe the weight will kill him. Start to groaning. Groan all the way down the stairs, out to the garden, where he stand her up.

  “Let me watch you walking on the concrete. How you like it?”

  Angela see flowers not yet blooming any color. See the narrow pretty strip of path. A strong rose concrete way among the growing flowers. See the mud, the warm right earth, a natural brown.

  “Walk with me, Buddy.”

  “Not enough room, Angela.”

  “How can you make something so narrow, there be no room for two of us?”

  “I guess I didn’t think you come here, really.”

  “Dance with me, Buddy, then we can fit it.”

  Buddy move to Angela move to Buddy, like one person, moving on the concrete running red through the brown earth.

  “They be some hard buttons on your coat.”

  “Well, I’m allergic to the wool you wearing. How you like it?”

  “Here is really nice. I really like it.”

  “You want a soda?”

  “I like a soda, but I like to wash my hands and wash my face, and then I like to come back out here.”

  “It be dark soon, Angela, we can come back out here, maybe later.”

  Buddy think about tomorrow. But don’t even want to say tomorrow.

  “Buddy, where the bathroom? I never see a house like this.”

  Buddy bend down to the floor, hold a knob there. When he come up, part of the wall come up with him. “There you go.”

  “Why you have a door like that?”

  “Be good exercise, bend down, pull up, bend down, open it up. You get use to it. Everything in this house be like this.”

  She go in the bathroom. Whole room like the doorway to it. Seem like wood venetian blinds. Dark wood strips look like they comb down smooth, or almost smooth together, like venetian blinds. The soap, the shower curtain, bathtub mat, the towel and the washcloth, the toothbrush and the box of baby powder, everything except the mirror and the walls, be crazy orange. Angela uneasy. Real quick wash her hands and face with orange soap, and dry her hands and face on orange towels, smelling clean and good.

  “Buddy, something happen to me! You better come on in, and see!”

  Buddy calling, “what you doin?”

  “My face turn orange in the bathroom. That be some really sneaky soap.”

  Buddy lift up the door, go inside look at Angela. Her face seem orange in the mirror. She look at him.

  “You have the same disease.”

  Buddy step behind her, bring his face down to her face. They see each other in the mirror, orange.

  “You better let me see how bad it is. It may be spreading.”<
br />
  “You always try to be so smart.”

  Buddy say, “Square business. It look serious to me. Better check it out.”

  He look close to her neck. Buddy say, “Oh, oh—you can see for yourself, you got a bad case of the orange.”

  Angela turn from the mirror, start to tickling him.

  “Hey, woman, I’m a break my neck.”

  Buddy try to escape the tickling, bang his elbow on the sink, knock his head against the towel rack. Buddy say “shh . . . ”

  Whip off the light. Whisper, “Here, hold on to this.” Give Angela a piece of towel. “Don’t make no noise, just hold on to the towel.”

  Buddy pull Angela slowly, quietly out the bathroom to the dining room—what use to be the dining room. Buddy give Angela all the towel. He say, “Here, hold this on your eyes.”

  Press the lightswitch, make like a purple light on everything. “Okay. You can look now. Here, come here. You choose a record.”

  Buddy lift up the phonograph cabinet door and, smiling, show his Angela the phonograph, the albums pile together, thick. The room not finish yet, but almost.

  One corner there the wires hang down from the ceiling, and no light. Toolbox and some tools beneath the music cabinet.

  “Let me take your coat.”

  Buddy put the coats inside a large wood box built like a trunk against the wall. He lift the lid and fold the coats and pack them out of sight.

  The music be the only sound. He dancing with her, slow enough to hear her breathe.

  She say, “I wish we could just stay here.”

  “We can. A little while. Tonight.”

  They sit down on the mattress in the corner, flat against the floor.

  “You think we get in trouble, Buddy?”

  “I don’t know. I’m glad you’re here.”

  They be quiet holding close together. He kiss her mouth, her arm.

  Her fingers teasing on his neck and trace the fire down his back, his back a bone and skin discovery she making, stroke by stroke.

  And they undress themselves. Feel him feel her wet and lose the loneliness the words between them.

  “What do you call it?” Buddy ask her.

  “Well I call it making love.”

  “We make some love.”

  They make some love and then they fall asleep.

  fifteen

  next morning they legs be tangle together. Angela wake up and look at Buddy lying naked there beside her. She kiss Buddy face, lean on one elbow looking at his head.

  Buddy waken. He turn over, rest her warm against his chest. “Angela, I thought you was a virgin. But maybe you should of told me that you was a virgin. I mean I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

  Angela say, “For real. It dint hurt no more after that one time I told you.”

  Buddy smiling say, “I’m glad you all right.”

  Angela laughing. “Well, you all right too, Buddy.”

  Suddenly Buddy sit up, exclaim, “You could be pregnant!” Turn around and hug her hard. “Hey, you know that one thing? Could be we have a baby coming soon!”

  Angela answer him by saying, “That be fine with me. So long we be both together, taking care of business.”

  “Well, of course,” he say excited. “Start with two of us, and go right on ahead, the two of us be taking care of three of us.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Time we better move on outa here. Sometime soon the sisters and the police and your par—ents figure things through and we be trapped by them.”

  “Well, let’s eat some bananas and some ice cream and then you tell me what we need to take so I can help you pack.”

  Buddy tell her while they dress themselves. They take the food, the toolbox, a saw, his portable radio, extra batteries, some soap and towels, can-opener, kaleidoscope, playing cards, picnic jug of water, all the blankets they can find, two pillows, paper, ballpoint pens, drafting supplies for Buddy to fool with, flashlight, candles, and matches.

  They quickly load the car and slowly lock the house.

  Get to the corner. Make two left turns. Drive down the street where you can still see iron trolley tracks from years ago. Drive from the neighborhood they know. Make a right turn put them on Bushwick Avenue. Look out for cops. Take the road into the cemetery. Leads them to the reservoir brick house.

  Just before they reach the house they see a military burial ground. Seem like all them same white crosses turning death to boredom. White crosses. Here and there a dime-store flagstick. Eight inches high, stuck into the earth. Its small flag leaking slight and lonely color to the lonely formal ground.

  Buddy say, “A flag is not a flower growing on you. When I die, I want something to grow on right on top of me, you know?”

  Angela be silent. She don’t want to think about the end of nothing. Everything just really starting up.

  When he stop the car, Buddy raise the hood, pretend he fooling with the radiation, and Angela act swift. Make several fast trips to unload the car on the side away from the highway eyes, the side of the reservoir house where she will wait for Buddy.

  He drive the car two miles farther on, take off the tags, and hike back to where she waiting.

  Angela sit among the things sad and scared. She listen to the traffic while she hypnotize herself by studying the sunlight in the water.

  Finally Buddy come back like a silhouette approaching her. He kiss her forehead and then swamp her with blankets wrap around her. Leave her looking like a tepee.

  Buddy take a hammer and wedge. Break into the house. Look around. Break up the cobwebs. Saw some, drill the openings into the boards that covering the windows. Let in some air and light.

  Must be a toolshed people have forgot about. Buddy rake the floor to clear it. Find a spigot, fill a pail with soap and water. Slosh the floor to weight the dust down. Make things smell better.

  When he go out until the floor will dry, he find that Angela have scale the fence and be halfway in the water.

  “Angela! The cars be seeing you that way!”

  She laugh at him, and after a while, come back.

  “We stay here long enough, we could figure how to swim here safe without nobody seeing us. Like at night. But now you never know.”

  “They don’t have no guards around here?”

  “I never seen one. Come on inside and dig the house.”

  “Hey, so much stuff! So much equipment, this is really outasight. You probably knew you could work it out, didn’t you? Can you use them things some way?”

  “First thing I need to do is find some wood. And maybe buy some glass and screens. Then I could show you better.”

  They talk to keep the house around them. His voice her voice shape him and her familiar (shapes) inside the unfamiliar house. They talk but standing still talk trying to imagine how they can stay and move and sleep and change where they are standing now, inside.

  “We have enough money for about two weeks. If we find a store nearby, we can take turns going so they don’t know that we together.”

  “I want everyone to know. Oh, shit, to hell with it. To hell with it. With everyone. I wish we had a rug, right here.”

  Buddy recognize that Angela be just as scare as him, and worrying. He think about what to say.

  “We can use a blanket, baby. Put a blanket down. Let’s try it.”

  “Buddy, open up the door so we can see the reservoir and count the birds and watch for the police.”

  Use up a hour spreading things out comfortable. Then notice that the blanket they been walking on be mess up from the shoes. So they make a rule. Like Orientals they will leave they shoes outside the house. They will leave the outside mess outside. They lay another blanket down, a clean blanket, down on the floor for Angela.

  After that they go outside to work together. Shovel a latrine. Make up a bathroom in the bushes at the bottom of the hill.

  For a bed, Buddy bang two benches together that he find. Angela figuring that things will be all right. They
will eat out of cans and use the water from the spigot. So they settle in.

  “I hope they don’t be no rats around here. Buddy, why you founding up like that?”

  “I worry about my father. How he is. Don’t want him dying by himself alone. Don’t want him dying. I worry about myself, I may be a father soon myself, depending on you, and I worry what we doing here. How long can we hold out?”

  “You think your father, you think he will die, Buddy?”

  “I don’t know what I think. You realize how long it’s been since I hear him speak to me, or tell me anything? He don’t even know you. Never even seen you, Angela, you. Sometime I think how I will like to give him to you—give you to him. You two meeting, eating oranges or peaches. Can you picture that?”

  “I can taste it happening, sometimes I think maybe your father would adopt me.”

  “Listen, Angela, don’t start no sister business here with me.”

  “Okay, Mr. Rivers.” They wrestling each other, ticklefighting on the floor.

  “If my father was me, he probably take a pencil and scheme some changes for the house.”

  “Why don’t you do that?”

  “If I do, what will you be doing?”

  “Oh, I play the radio. Figure something out I have in mind.”

  First thing Buddy draw is trees. He have the tree between the highway and the house. But still, you know, the highway is there, the house is there, and now you have the trees. Nothing cut into nothing else. But things be differently together. From the highway, things seem different. From the house, the road seem different. But no interference. No elimination. No taking out the highway or the house. The trees be added on, be something more. And the same be better with the trees.

  Next he mark in some plants, some vegetables, and some flowers. Then he have the whole roadside of the house be brick completely. Except for near the bottom where he draw a wall-to-wall long narrow window as wide as the house is wide. So when he and Angela lie down they can see outside but not be seen unless somebody crawl up on his stomach.

 

‹ Prev