Sweet Potato Jones

by Jen Lowry

  Her lips pursed tightly. “Then follow. Who am I to interfere with the plans of the Almighty? Go on, but hurry back. I’ll need you shortly.”

  He pecked her on the cheek, and for a split-pea second, his eyes met mine, and the world seemed to stand still even as he spun far away from me. He was gone with the clanking of the little bell at the door, the wind was carrying him MIA, and my hopes of being a free bird with wings spread in flight were ridiculous yet again. Back to the cage.

  Daddy was pleased when I reported an easy, breezy shift. It had been quite pleasant, besides my nervousness, my foolishness, and my infatuation with a soon-to-be military man. I left that last note out of my rundown. Daddy was ready to leave to take the four o’clock shift, and it was my turn with the kids. I looked at Bean’s face, saddened by the rain clouds that had appeared out of nowhere, and decided right then and there that I would step in and make another choice, since I had been given some leeway lately.

  “Daddy, until I start school, I’ll stay down at Soul Food, if you’d like. I can do the all-day stuff. You’ve got to go down to the Social Services building anyway. Remember? Go ahead and sign them up for their insurance and all and look into some of the programs they might have. Like maybe the Y or the Boys and Girls Club to help with Bean’s and Maize’s tutoring and stuff, since I’ll be working at the restaurant in the afternoons.”

  I was used to the system. I knew we could get on the list and actually get us a place of our own, if we could hold tight instead of rolling on. I knew we could get a credit card for the grocery store, and Daddy could whip us up some of his very own magic, if Mrs. Betty Atkins approved us some use of the kitchen equipment. I knew that the kids would go somewhere other than the shelter for the afternoons, like the YMCA or the Boys and Girls Club.

  I didn’t know if it was hearing about the Spirit talking, but deep down in my heart, I knew this place somehow had a different glow. It might be worth holding on to. And maybe, just maybe, Daddy would see that, too.

  He’d say, “Newport News, what fine people. What a fine place. I think we’ll stay awhile.”

  That would get him looking for us some kind of place that was available on the income he’d be able to provide, and with my help, too, we might do okay. Daddy couldn’t be expected to work six to nine every day. That would be like fifteen hours’ time seven, and that would be way more than any man should have to do for his family. I was older now. I could pitch in joyfully, and maybe that would get us a chance at permanence like the kids prayed for.

  Daddy agreed with me, surprised by my enthusiasm for working. I overheard him talking to Mrs. Betty about setting up some transportation to take them all down to Social Services tomorrow while I would be at work. Daddy knew about all that stuff, but sometimes he needed a sticky-note reminder.

  I kissed Bell on the head and promised her I’d tell her a special bedtime story tonight, the one about the red birds. Speaking of birds, I’d memorized most of the stanza—my fancy move to plant poetry in my soul. I still needed to memorize the last part, and I pulled out the paper from my pocket for a quick glance. Hope has wings and other things like you.

  The paper was almost blown out of my hand by the wind as I walked back toward Soul Food. My mind was in a million places at once. Could I look at Ray straight on? His eyes were of the purest of things, and there was peace in his presence. Was he too bright for me to hold? Could I claim him, as my heart wanted to claim hope and so many other things?

  Mrs. Sunshine smiled when she saw me back and ready for duty. “Forget something, Sweet Potato?”

  I shrugged, pulling the apron back on and fastening it. “I gave Daddy a break, I guess.”

  She laughed heartily; her hands wrapped to her sides. “You took one look at Bean and decided that you needed the break with the impending storm brewing, huh? Coming to work to get away from work? Girl, you are a trip and a half and then some.”

  I smiled back. “I guess you had your very own experience with Bean to be able to read me like that.”

  “You, my child, are what I call a special reading, an open book. I can see the emotions clear across you at every point and turn. I also saw something else today, and so did he.”

  She pointed through the swinging silver doors. Mr. Joe? What had he seen me do? Did I mess up an order? They were going to fire me, for sure.

  “I’m talking about Ray, honey, not my feisty, old man.” She put her arm around me and whispered softly in my hair, “I saw you and Ray.”

  Me and Ray. She used us in a sentence. I frowned. What could she see? How when I walked away from them today, I prayed for a way to find my way right back to them, so I could be in the same vicinity as Ray? That man was going off somewhere to enlist in a war, and I’d never see him again, because Daddy was sure to have other plans for us before he could make it back home. We’d have twenty weeks here; would he leave before me? I was tired of all these temporals, and the heaviness engulfed me at once. Couldn’t she see how tired I was? That’s probably all she saw: this worn-out, old soul I wore around like a ragged outfit.

  He came out from the back and stopped short. “Momma, did you call me?”

  A puzzled look crossed his face, and the smile returned. He was beautiful, for sure. As mouth-watering as an unwrapped candy bar to a poor girl like me, and more golden than the ticket.

  Mrs. Sunshine picked the order pad up off the counter, passed it my way, and put her arm around Ray. “Come on, boy. We’ve got some talking to do.”

  Oh, Lordy, no! Would she be talking to him about me? I prayed not. What would she say? “I see the way Sweet Potato looks at you, all with love on her like a new song.”

  I didn’t have too much time to think about it, because a customer was rattling an empty glass of ice at me, mouthing for some more sweet tea. I was off, trying my best to keep busy and not think about what they could be conversing about. Surely it couldn’t be me.

  Ray didn’t seem the least bit put off when he came back out to clear and put away. He did see me looking, and for the first time, I didn’t turn my gaze. I leaned up against the swivel stool and stared at him. I dare you. I dare you to claim me. Come on. You can. Just put one foot in front of the other and find your way to me. I can’t do it, Ray. You seem like the kind that can.

  Head talk, that’s all that was. Denise nudged me on the arm, making me lose my balance on the stool, and I thought I’d topple right down like a Jack on them fool cards. That was me, Joker Jack, for looking at that Ray. I should have been right ashamed. Thank heavens I didn’t let on.

  A bushel and a peck—I’d done it this time, because Denise said, “He doesn’t have a girlfriend. Broke up with a girl a little while ago. So, he’s a free bird like you. Why don’t you fly over there and ask him out?”

  “I … I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I tore off the order, stuck it up on the silver spinner for Mr. Joe, and hit the little bell.

  Denise rolled her eyes as she took me to the booth for a break. I was sure the way she wore her hair, flat tight in a clip at the base of her neck, was pulling all her brain cells out of order. Did she really think I could ask Ray out? It went to show how far this girl was from knowing me. I couldn’t even talk to him.

  She leaned over and whispered, “He’s really a great guy. I promise. I wouldn’t steer you wrong, sista. He’s worth asking.”

  “I … I couldn’t.” I couldn’t even begin to imagine what I would start to say to him. “I live at The Home.”

  Lordy, no! Why did I say that out loud like that—putting it out there on that corner table like it was a normal piece of news? A homeless girl couldn’t be asking no boys out. That wouldn’t be right. They’d be supposed to walk home holding hands and kiss under a porch light. Not stand by ugly, steel double-doors, where the bug light zapped the night away, gathering the dead as a sign of all the hopelessness on the inside.

  She put her arm through mine. “The Home? So what? Wh
at does that have to do with who you like?”

  I frowned. She wouldn’t understand what it did to a girl—to be sheltered or abandoned or boarded up most of her life. What that did to me, to the core of me. It changed me. It changed who I was, fundamental. I wasn’t good enough to expect greatness, and Ray was the sky.

  I ignored her and went off to help a new couple that had come in. I could fake a smile, even after all of that. Fake smiling came easy. It was the real ones that hurt the most.

  I did my duty for the rest of the night. Denise dropped the whole pushing-me thing, and I was glad.

  When the last customer was out the door, Mrs. Sunshine flipped the sign and let out a prayer to Jesus, thanking Him for another glorious day of spreading His word. I stared at her exuberance. Where all of that came from, I could not figure it out. I had never met anyone close to the likes of Mrs. Sunshine, that was for sure.

  Ray came out, the apron gone and packed away. He came right up to me with the boldness I knew was within him and grinned. I thought I would fall over like a blown leaf on a March day from the sheer force of it.

  His voice was low and deep. “Are you ready?”

  “Mmm …” Ready? For my first boyfriend? For the first love of my entire life? Yep. You bet.

  “To go? You weren’t planning on spending the night with us, were you?” He snickered at me.

  It was adorable, the way his dimples creased the corners of that perfect, full mouth. He had a straight nose and a hard jawline that twitched with a hint of apprehension. Perfectly set eyes that crinkled in the corners. I imagined him as old as Joe and all of the crinkle-cut-fry lines framing those eyes from years of smiling.

  “I’m sorry.” I took off the apron and hung it up on the coat rack by the door. “Goodbye, Mrs. Sunshine, Denise, Mr. Joe. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  They all waved as Mrs. Sunshine turned off the lights. “Sleep well, dear. Thank you for the helping hand.”

  “You, too.” She was the one needing the Medal of Honor for her service.

  Ray opened the door wide. “Come on. I’m walking you home.”

  I spoke a little too forcefully. “No!”

  He smiled, assuring me. “I know where you live.”

  Panic began to rise. “No!”

  I was determined on this one. I walked right out of the door and tried to close him inside with the force of my body. I pushed with all my might but to no avail. He was stronger than me.

  He laughed, one of those purest of things. “Stop it, Sweet Potato.”

  At the way he said my name, with this gentle urging, I released the door, letting the bell jingle wildly.

  Ray leaned in close to me. I could feel his breath on my cheek. He whispered, “What? What is it?”

  He wasn’t going to listen to me. So he was that kind of stubborn.

  “I don’t want you to see.”

  I leaned up against the corner bricks, letting the rough edges remind me that I wasn’t dreaming, but I was still too afraid to move. His hand found mine in this ridiculous moment of fear and acceptance. It felt right like I knew it would, fingers lacing together, his long ones sliding down mine, sending a shiver right through me. New. Exciting. Had to be the release of adrenaline.

  He spoke softly. “Don’t you worry. I know.”

  The tears wanted to fall so badly that my eyes stung, like a force of a thousand yellow jackets pricking my eyelids. “What do you think you know?”

  “I know. That’s all. Now come on and stop being so silly.”

  He pulled my arm, and I fell in step beside him. I couldn’t have let go of him even if I wanted to. And the four minutes seemed to be about four seconds, because there we were. The Home. Some stragglers hung out by the doorsteps, which would be against Mrs. Betty’s approval. She liked to close shop early so the vultures who liked to take advantage of us would think operating hours were over. We lingered by the fence, not stepping over the line—the boundary between my world and his. Ironically, a perfectly paved, gray sidewalk led up to broken stones, rubble, and white rocks scattered around the entryway.

  I couldn’t think of anything to say. I stared down at our hands, still joined. Ray Patterson. He had the makings of a good man, and he was right here, holding my hand.

  He asked, “See you in the morning?”

  I sighed. “Until school on Monday.”

  “How old are you, anyway?” He let go of my hand.

  “I’ll be eighteen next month.” Saying “seventeen” made me sound too much like a baby.

  He seemed pleased. “Okay. Bye, then.”

  His hand came out in a short wave as he turned and walked away.

  Daddy was at the steps, boots finishing off those helpless moths that hadn’t quite met their end by the zap of the bug light.

  He exaggerated an extra-loud cough. “Well, I guess that was nice—Ray walking you home. To be honest, I was getting a little worried.”

  He eyed the travelers moving from the stoop to the side of the yard. “In fact, I don’t know how comfortable I feel about you traveling between here and there by yourself at night.”

  I hurried up the cracked walk, wondering if one of the cracks would swallow me up whole and send me straight down to hell like I deserved.

  “Hey, Daddy.”

  He frowned but didn’t say much more—only that he felt a little guilty making me work the entire day through. I reminded him it was my choice, and that seemed to settle fine with him. Just like it was my choice to do it all over again the next day.

  One more day with Ray. I’d take every single one of them that I could get my hands on.

  Five forty-five on the dot, and he was there at the door, as I knew he would be, with the same smile spread across his face. “Are you her?”

  If you mean the girl of your dreams, I hope so. In all my dreams the night before, I could only see his eyes and his hands. Now I was standing right in front of him, and I couldn’t find my words again. He didn’t even wait for me to respond this time, opened the door, and went on back to his business.

  I grabbed the apron from the peg and started to put it on when Mrs. Sunshine busted in. “Uh-uh-uh … hold up a second. That’s the wrong apron. Drop it.”

  I let it slide out of my fingers. Oh, no. Here it comes. I’m a bad influence here. I’m canned, for sure. Had I lost my job? Had I done another thing wrong, like show up? Not until I saw her holding up a new apron with gold lettering from an iron-on transfer, adjusting it right to me, did I understand what she was up to.

  “This is your apron, child. Put it on.” She made it sound so regal like an angelic host was ready to celebrate.

  I held the apron out in front of me and read the fancy lettering. Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or stow away in barns, and yet your Heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?

  I couldn’t speak, even to say a thank-you. I tied the apron up around my waist and let my hand fall across the lettering one more time. A walking testament. That was what we all were: walking servants of the Lord in this place. I would be the one representing those who didn’t have a place to lay their head—valuable children of God, like me, even though in all the past moments of my life I only felt worthless and useless. I was more valuable to God than the free birds of the sky, and I was already freed by the blood of Jesus … that was what she was trying to say to me. Or maybe it was the Spirit talking in this place.

  It was imperative that I find Ray. It hit me with a fierce urgency—to read the words his Momma had picked out for him. When my eyes finally rested on him, I was surprised to see his apron was blank, turned inside out with the seams showing. Funny how you didn’t notice the smallest things when you were so concerned about the bigger ones. What was he hiding?

  Denise had already gone to freshman orientation. She was starting her new life today, so her apron was to remain a mystery. It should have said something about playing matchmaker
for the hopeless.

  Around eleven, like clockwork, Mr. Joe came out looking for desserts. His apron was downright hilarious, and I wondered how many times he had to testify to it night and day. It surely was a message of Mrs. Sunshine’s own conniving: Husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself.

  Mrs. Sunshine was hollering at him about his cholesterol while singing another hymn from the radio. She’d go back and forth between speaking the Lord’s praises and blasting Mr. Joe about the crumbs on the side of his lip. I was sitting by myself, enjoying a whopper plate of the breakfast special Mr. Joe whipped up for me, quietly praising Jesus for letting me fall right into a place like this. If there was a place patterned after my own heart, this had to be it.

  Ray sat down, a plate of fries drowned in ketchup in front of him. He went to his business, flipping through the ASVAB book. I stopped eating as he looked at me. I couldn’t chew and look at him at the same time. My mouth felt like a bag of marbles had filled my cheeks to maximum capacity.

  “I should have asked could I sit here.”

  He went back to eating, without properly asking. I tried to focus on my plate, not wanting to even glance at the book, because I knew what the study guide meant. I was trying not to stare at his hands, either, because mine twitched wanting to hold his.

  Finally, he stood up, leaving the book behind, and going behind the counter with his plate. I figured he’d be back, so I took the rest of my plate down with style before he could come watch me eat. When he popped back out, he took my plate and disappeared again, coming quick so I wouldn’t have a chance to flee. The bell jingled, and I was about to rise, but it was just the mail carrier, so I sat back down.

  “Do you like working here?” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in the booth.

  I nodded, biting my lip. His folded arms were some dangerous business, because I could see the outline of his muscles. I looked at Mrs. Sunshine, and she eyed me over the bills, sticking them in her apron pocket before swishing away.