Sweet Potato Jones

by Jen Lowry

  She nodded again as if to encourage me to be one of those believers. How could I make her understand?

  “Maize is different. He’s not like me. I worry about him most of all—even more than Bean.”

  School was always so hard for Maize—the grades and all the social experiments that his peers always challenged him to partake in. It would always scar him deeper, make him a little rougher. This time, I was really scared for Maize, because he sounded more lost by the minute. Desperate, even. The storm clouds were seeming to hover over him and break clear over me. It wasn’t fair. I’d take all them dark clouds to get them away from my best friend.

  Mrs. Sunshine asked, “What are your grades like?”

  She swerved into the Wal-Mart parking lot, tires squealing, and found a space near the front.

  “A’s, mostly. Maybe a C in English, every now and then, if my teachers can understand my way. Maize, it’s more than the D list for him. He can’t take the punishment like me. I guess I must have thicker skin.”

  For the first time in my life, I might have been onto something. “That might be why Daddy always refers to me as the root vegetable of the family. I seem to be more rooted down, firmly planted. The storms don’t get to me, because I have them roots already spread out—enough to get what I need and keep going. And then—here I go again—that might be why Maize is different.”

  Mrs. Sunshine laughed. “I love the way that you can explain yourself. You fascinate me, you do. How is Maize different, tell me?”

  She pulled the four lists out of her purse and started down the school aisle, practically doing the shopping for me as we talked.

  “Maize is like the tall stalks of corn in the field, swaying in a strong wind at drying time. He’s fragile, like the brittle kind left in the field. I don’t know how much more he can take before he snaps.”

  Mrs. Sunshine grinned. “Well, then, we have us a new prayer request. We’ll just have to see about Maize, won’t we? We’ll take a special interest in him. Let him see the way Jesus can make a weak plant strong. Jesus is the one that builds us up in a time of trouble. You don’t let Maize trouble you no more. Jesus has got him. You hear me? Jesus has all of you. It’s not about what you have. It’s what God is. Remember that.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  But even as I said it, I knew I was losing him.

  She stopped by the beauty product aisle and bought some extras that weren’t on the lists, like butterfly glitter clips for Bell’s hair. They even sold The Dream t-shirts on a special rack by the bookbag section, and we each got one a different color. Mine was burgundy, because Mrs. Sunshine thought that would be most complementary to my coloring. We all got khaki pants, since we already owned the black pair of dress-ups. And we each got a polo shirt, too. Classy, if I did say so myself. I told Mrs. Sunshine how difficult it had always been to be in school with no wardrobe, and how uniforms were the next best thing to bologna-and-cheese sandwiches.

  She pulled up to another storefront on the way home: Maria’s Discount, a secondhand place. The neighborhood made me a little nervous; the people here eyed Mrs. Sunshine’s ride suspiciously. But I loved this kind of store the best, because there was no telling what kind of treasure t-shirts you could find here. Mrs. Sunshine hollered at Maria like they were the best of friends, waved a hand at her, and took me right over to the section with The Dream uniforms. This place must have had the leftovers of graduates who had all went on to better themselves in the world and get out of this neighborhood.

  One of the goons from the street was peering in through the window at us, and I didn’t like it one bit. Mrs. Sunshine didn’t even seem to notice, but he noticed us, and I felt the hairs rise on the back of my neck. Danger was lurking around every corner. The Devil was on the loose.

  Mrs. Sunshine held up two more sets of clothes with dollar tags on them.

  “But we got a set from Wal-Mart,” I protested. “We should have come here first.”

  She insisted. “Something old and something new … that one suit won’t do.”

  She snapped her fingers and kept moving on a mission.

  I bit my lip. I’d hate to get all them sets of clothes and not be able to wear them again. But she insisted, and the register counter was piled with clothes. I saw a brown box out of the corner of my eye and asked if I could buy that, too.

  Mrs. Sunshine chided. “Honey, you don’t need to buy no box. What for? I’ve got plenty of boxes back in the storeroom from the leftover shipments.”

  She gave me something better than a box when we got back to her house: a solid, rubber tote with a purple top. I rubbed my hand across it. “You sure do like purple, Mrs. Sunshine. Why is that?”

  “Purple is the color of the King, robed in majesty. That was the color of the robe they placed on Jesus while he was on trial. I go to the color purple to remind the world what sacrifice was made for us that day. We can share the good news of grace by the colors we show the world.” She transferred the clothes to the purple-lid box and tucked the bags in the trashcan.

  I could hear the commotion still going on through the walls. Faint sounds of the kids singing made me smile. Mrs. Sunshine caught it.

  “What is it, Sweet Potato?”

  I pointed. “It’s my family.”

  She laughed. “Seems to fit right in here, huh? I think so, anyway. God sure does know what He is doing, I tell you. I never doubted Him for a minute, mind you. But He sure knows His people.”

  Ray shuffled out of his room, barefoot and wearing the jeans I loved to see him in. He was wearing his white shirt again. I found it refreshing he didn’t worry about what he wore or feel the need to be flashy. He was a t-shirt-and-jeans guy, and he was perfectly fine with that.

  He smiled, a light in his eyes. “Hey.”

  I was emotionally spent but had enough in me to whisper back, “Hey.”

  Mrs. Sunshine patted the seat beside me and motioned for Ray to sit on down.

  He kissed his momma on the cheek and gingerly took my hand in his, resting it on the pillow between us. His momma started right on.

  “Ray, what is this plan of yours for the future? I’m sure wanting to know more details about it.”

  He turned to me. “I am going to the Army, Momma. God needs me there now, not four years from now after a college degree. I’ll work on that later—while I’m in, even. They allow that with the chaplaincy program. I have to be there now.”

  Mrs. Sunshine chided again. “Why the urgency? I thought you were settling yourself with the idea of going on up with Denise and starting on the seminary classes with her, first. Then you mentioned that ASVAB, and I knew your plans had gone straight in the opposite direction.”

  “Sweet Potato changed all of that.” He wasn’t backing down, only staring right at me.

  I bit my lip, and my insides started to boil. He didn’t need to bring my name into anything, as if I was worth mentioning. “Don’t join the Army because of me.”

  He turned to his momma and winked. “I’m joining the Army because of her. I was going to eventually end up there anyway, Momma. You knew that. Now, I can support her and her family and still do what God is leading me to do. I’ll be a Chaplain Assistant. That will be an opportunity for me to learn firsthand.”

  She kept her poise, her hands crossed in her lap, but I knew she wasn’t one-hundred percent convinced. “But you’d be an officer if you wait.”

  He was solemn. “It’s not about what I would have. It is what God is, Momma. God is leading me to this now. I feel that.”

  I laughed softly. He listened to every word his momma said and knew how to remind her of them. How many times had Mrs. Sunshine used that line?

  She relented. “Okay, I support you, but Sweet Potato is still in school. How do you think you’re going to support her? You are talking about whisking her away with you to some base, but she’s still in school and has her family to think of.”

  He turned to me. H
is voice was soft and sweet, reminding me of the rush after tasting the best candy you’d ever had. The kind that made your cheeks tingle.

  “I love you, Sweet Potato.”

  His eyes were shining, almost like tears were framing his thick lashes. It was my turn. He deserved to be told what was in my intimate heart. He’d told me in front of his momma; he’d probably told Daddy, too. This was the moment he needed me to confirm it.

  I held my breath, looked straight at him, and got up the courage to begin this race with him. On your mark, get set, go.

  “I love you, too, Ray.”

  Mr. Joe stepped in, along with Daddy and the youngins, as soon as I said it. This was a completely unplanned moment. Why did it have to be so dramatic?

  Ray continued. “I want you to know when I go to basic training, I’ll only be gone for ten weeks. I’m waiting until the spring to enlist and timing it around you. When I finish that up, the recruiter has already let me know I’m going to an AIT school—an Advanced Individual Training school for chaplain assistants. I’ll be in Fort Jackson, South Carolina for that. Soon enough, I’m going to get down on my knee in front of God and our families, and I’m going to ask you to be my wife. And if you say yes to me, I’ll take care of you and love you for the rest of your life.”

  Daddy huffed. “She ain’t but a baby. You are moving too fast here, Ray.”

  Mrs. Sunshine got up, and I scooted in closer to Ray. He squeezed my hand, and I blinked back the tears. I stared intently at the picture of Jesus taking control of the sea, so I could remove myself from the moment and get on that boat with him. Take this whirlpool in my soul and ease it, Lord. In my peripheral, I could see Daddy calculating. Knowing him, we were probably gonna flee with the youngins before the stroke of midnight. Talk about a Cinderella story about to happen to a poor sista. I wondered if I should make my Converse somehow fall off now, but the laces were too dang tight for me to try to pull it off without making a scene.

  “God had a way of bringing you here to our family,” Mrs. Sunshine said. “Ray is a good man. He will take care of your baby, and we will take care of each other.”

  I interrupted. “Stop while you’re ahead, Mrs. Sunshine. I know you mean well and all, but—”

  Bean shouted, “Your baby will probably be ended up called Asparagus, because Daddy is gonna to whip your—”

  Daddy bellowed, startling me. “Bean, hush it now.”

  I cried, “He’s not asking me to marry him because I’m having a baby for him. I haven’t kissed this boy yet, and he loves me. Daddy, he’s saying all this to let me know that I have a future with him.”

  We all had a chance to make it here. I knew it was our time. I felt it in the new song bursting forth right from my inner spring.

  Daddy held out his arm. “We best be going now to The Home, Mrs. Sunshine.”

  He emphasized those words like he thought I needed a refresher course on where I came from. He was going to go and mess this up for me, for us. After all our years on the road, we could finally be who we were without condemnation or fear, and here he was going to pull that map out anyway. Now the veil was lifted, and I recognized a good thing when it held my hand. I had to fight this one out.

  Daddy’s eyes were suddenly bloodshot, as if he was trying to hold in his blood pressure. I wondered if eyeballs could actually pop out of a person’s head?

  He signaled us. “The kids have an early morning. Thank you again for everything today. I’ll see you bright and early, too. I have to get used to all this growing-up stuff. Thanks again.”

  Mrs. Sunshine and Mr. Joe said their goodbyes to Maize, Bell, and Bean. I could see how much Mr. Joe and Mrs. Sunshine had taken to them, and I knew somehow, we would have to make it here, regardless of Daddy’s bad attitude or closed-up sensibilities. We could make it fine—even without him, if we had to.

  I pointed to the Wal-Mart bags of school supplies and the purple-lid tote. Each one of us got a bag, including Ray. We left out the back way, through the big, wooden fence, to circle back around the block to the place we called home. The way Daddy had said it to Mrs. Sunshine still rang in my ears like a clanging cymbal.

  Was he going to tear us down when we were starting to build up? He could have said something like, “Let’s mosey on down to the home place, youngins,” or, “We best be getting to our house that we pay bills for.” Maybe even, “Let’s go home.” Not with a capital The in front of it.

  Maize would crack under this. I felt his emptiness resonating off him like humidity. Why couldn’t Daddy sense it? If Daddy hadn’t figured it out, Maize had my back, and right about now he was about to jump over it and get to Daddy for embarrassing me like that in front of Ray and his people. The kids couldn’t contain themselves, peeking through bags, already claiming folder colors. Ray and I didn’t speak, just stole glances at each other when we could. Maize held my hand all the way back. He was on the verge of falling without a net. Maize, please hold on. Please, a little more. We’ve got this. God’s got you.

  When we made it back, Daddy ordered all bags dropped in a pile in the center of the floor. He grabbed my hand in one of his hands, Ray’s arm in the other, and shut the door. I knew what this meant: another showdown on the rooftop. I could hope and pray. And God did answer them prayers—even from me.

  Once we were on the rooftop, Daddy growled, “You’re talking about a future with a family that ain’t got no roots, no foundation, and no present. You stop filling up Sweet Potato’s head like that. She doesn’t deserve to be hearing that. You go running off, and the next pretty thing you see you be all in love with that, too.”

  Ray stood strong. He found my hand and did not let it go. “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Jones. I will do right by your daughter. I will do right by your family.”

  “Doing right by my daughter will be leaving us right alone.”

  He turned to me, and I knew. I got the shuddering in my system, the blinds dropping straight down with a loud thud and a lock. “We gonna be moving on soon. You know that. You know the date.”

  Ray spoke life into a hopeless situation. “It doesn’t have to be like that this time, sir.”

  Daddy’s voice was grave. “We’ve got twenty weeks here, Ray. Well, we’ve got eighteen now, since we’ve already stayed on here a full two. You need to know that. You are talking about a spring planting season, and we ain’t making it to then. We’ll be out by the first frost.”

  “They are good people, Daddy,” I said. “We can make it here, if you would just try. Those kids deserve more than uprooting all the time. It takes time for us to till, to cultivate. We need some patience. Maize’s drying up, Daddy. This is it for him. I’m telling you now, and you better listen.”

  He frowned. “What you mean is you need some time. You need some time with this boy. Well, somehow this boy has it fancy in his head that he’s gonna take care of you. That’s my job is to take care of you, and you might not always have agreed with my decisions, but I’ve done my best.”

  I bit my tongue until it was bleeding. Not once had I ever gone against Daddy. Fundamentally, he was a good man. He was fair to us kids, always there for us. He’d kept us together when he could have very easily given us over to Mr. and Mrs. Foster. But then again, he dragged us around like little sacks of potatoes and couldn’t seem to see what he had done to us, to the very core of us.

  It was taking a mighty hard toll on us, especially on Maize. He was the youngest of us all, inside—even compared to Bell, who had an old, singing soul. Bean was probably falling right in step with Maize, poor kid, but Bell and me, we’d survive. Bell had that internal voice, a ringing that would save her spirit. I had the Lord all rooted up and down in me, and now that I found Ray, I knew without a doubt I’d survive. But wasn’t life more than just surviving? I felt that now. I’d had a little taste of some good food, and I knew there was more than the gruel we’d been fed. A whole bushel and a peck of opportunity was waiting for me. I could taste it right o
n the tip of my bleeding tongue.

  This was a perfect place to become a garden. Daddy had to believe it. I had to make Daddy see. If Mrs. Sunshine said she could look into my eyes and see the peace and faith of Jesus, I could somehow make Daddy see that Newport News was the place where he’d finally claim his own home sweet home.

  My eyes dried up. I squeezed Ray’s hand to let him know that I had my composure back. I was ready to do this thing.

  “I believe in you, Daddy. I believe God will sort us all out. Don’t go worrying about me. We’ve been living in a mighty hurricane with the winds a-blowing us in all different directions, but I feel the hand of Jesus stretching right over our heads and calming us right down to where we can breathe. That wind won’t take my breath anymore. I don’t give it power to do so.”

  Daddy usually heard me. I hoped he comprehended me properly, this time.

  He exhaled deeply, and his shoulders relaxed. “Go on ahead, Ray. I’ll see you in the morning, hear?”

  “Yes, sir. See you in the morning.”

  He turned to me. “I’ll see you after school, Sweet Potato. I’ll be praying you have a good day.”

  “We’re gonna need all the prayers we can get.”

  Ray said, “We’ll start calling the Assembly for a prayer chain.”

  Ray turned to Daddy and told him about the Monday men’s group and how it would be a good time for Maize and Bean, too. Bell could come with me to the restaurant on those evenings and we could care for her there, or she could join the choir practice that was always going on at the church. Ray had seen this place, and he didn’t want them kids here no longer than necessary, either.

  It wasn’t just about me, after all. He truly was thinking about my little ones. I so didn’t deserve this.

  Daddy nodded once. He’d be there. Daddy was raised to never turn down a church invitation. Thank God for his rest-in-peace momma for teaching him that one good thing and passing it to us youngins, because that was something we had to look forward to along our broken-up roads. We could seem to always find us a church to call our own, even if it was only for a spell. And the Assembly Revival could be more than church for us. One day at a time, I could fight for this life.