Chapter 4
The house was in much better shape than she expected—a fresh coat of paint not only on the siding but also on the tin roof, the railing along the full-length front porch in good repair, even the windows washed clean in front of their drawn shades. Becca pulled her car over to one side of the dirt road, straddling the drainage ditch, and switched off the engine. Hers was the only car visible to where the road crested a hill and fell away out of sight. She’d not yet gotten over her firmly established fear of walking alone in neighborhoods like this, but she’d learned to suppress it. She swung open the car door on the bright warm day, then locked it behind her and headed for Mrs. Brackett’s front porch.
“Now what a pretty girl like you doing in this part of town?” a surly voice said from across the way.
Becca turned to see a thin black man in a black tank top and red shorts sitting on the porch steps of the house across the street, a house that was as decrepit as Mrs. Brackett’s was well-maintained. Even from this far away, she could see his eyes were bloodshot above a gold tooth glinting in his mouth. He raised a brown bag to his lips as she watched. At that moment, Becca was caught between two well-ingrained trainings—the impulse to engage strangers in friendly conversation and the instinct to flee malice, especially when it took the form of an intoxicated black man. She looked up and down the road, noted the bright day, and took the former choice (over her baser fears and better judgment). “I’m here to see Mrs. Brackett.”
“And just what a pretty girl like you want with that bitch?”
“Just a visit.”
“Have more fun over here with old Snake.”
Becca laughed to herself at the absurdity of his name, and of her tenuous situation. “I believe I’ll go on and see Mrs. Brackett.”
Just then Zach drove up and parked his truck behind Becca’s car. She waited in place for him to catch up.
“That your old man?” Snake asked.
Becca smiled. “A friend.”
“That good. Snake still got a chance then.”
Zach came up to Becca. He’d spotted the black man on the stoop before he’d even parked the truck, and was watching him out of the corner of his eye as he approached Becca. He’d long since learned that the best way to avoid trouble was to avoid initial contact. He was doing his best to practice that skill now. “This her house?” he asked, pointing toward the well-kept house in front of them.
Becca nodded, and they walked together down the dirt walk to the front steps.
Behind them, the man yelled, “Tell Latonya Snake got a present for her. She know what I mean.”
By then they were on the front porch. Becca knocked on the door.
Mrs. Brackett opened the door, said “Good morning,” then stepped aside and welcomed them in.
Once their eyes had transitioned from the bright day to the shaded room, they could see that the inside of the house was as tidily kept as the outside. Off to the right was a simple kitchen with no cabinets but a table in the middle, some open shelves along one wall, a small stove, a wash-tub sink on a metal stand, and small refrigerator on the far wall. To their left was a low-backed upholstered chair in front of a T.V. with a rabbit-ear antenna on a coffee table. Beyond were three closed doors that led to the two bedrooms and the bathroom.
“Mrs. Brackett, this is Zach Sandstrom. He’s a friend who sometimes helps with house repairs.”
“Don’t need no repairs.”
“I can see that,” Becca agreed. “But I brought him along just in case.”
“Just in case you run into trouble like that sorry trash across the way.”
Becca was silent.
“He the one got Latonya hooked. He waiting on Jonah now.”
“We’ll hope to prevent that,” Becca ventured.
“Take more than hope,” Mrs. Brackett said.
Becca nodded. “Is he in school now?”
“Made the bus this morning. Got another week before summer vacation.”
“What will he do then?”
“Ask Latonya.”
“Any word from her?”
Mrs. Brackett shook her head.
“Does she live here?
“When she not shacked up with Larry.”
“Is she with him now?”
“He say no, but he always lying. Ain’t worth asking him nothing.”
“Do you need anything?”
“Don’t need nothing ’cept to rest my eyes twice a day and watch my skits after lunch. That boy needs the help and from someone stronger than a worn-out old woman.”
Becca nodded. “Will he come straight home after school?”
“I meet him at the bus on the main road.”
“Thank you for watching over him, Mrs. Brackett. We’ll do our best to get you help with that.” She pulled a blank file card from the pocket of her shirt and wrote her work number and their home number on it. “Call me if anything changes, or come by the church. I’m there every weekday.”
Mrs. Brackett took the card. “Thank you.”
Becca turned toward the door.
Zach suddenly asked, “Can we bring you Sunday dinner?”
Mrs. Brackett looked at him.
“Around one o’clock?”
She nodded slowly.
“Jonah like chicken?”
“His favorite.”
“Good,” Zach said. “See you Sunday.”
Outside, they both looked up and down the street into the dazzling sun. They were relieved to see it totally empty, including the broke-down stoop across the road.
Birthday Dinner Page 4