Sweet Potato Jones

by Jen Lowry

  “Stop it, Daddy. None of us has been perfect. We got a lot of life in us yet. And we can’t go back. And we can’t run. And we can’t move forward until you lead us.”

  I always felt like we tried to make the best of times, looking back over our mixed-up years, but those years created the memories and we owned them. The years were what made us.

  He stood up tall. He shook his head, as if he was shaking off the past. He put his foot forward and spoke loudly.

  “Well, let’s follow the leader, then. This time, we’re not counting down to an end, but to a beginning. I say no more map. We done with that living. Time to settle down.”

  He put his arms firm around me, and the love there made me feel all toasty and perfectly safe, in our own messed-up way. He pulled away. “Don’t tell them youngins yet that I’m trying to make this a stomping-ground for us. I don’t want them getting their hopes up too high if I can’t follow it through.”

  I frowned. “I bet Mrs. Betty Atkins can help you out in a mighty way. Maybe you should talk to Mr. Joe and Mrs. Sunshine, or the pastor.”

  “Not yet. Tell that Ray nothing about that calendar. You don’t worry your head over none of that now. I’m going to take care of this here family the right way.” He led me on down the stairs.

  The whole thought of my name was tinkering with my heart, clinking away at it with a tiny, little hammer and oil stick, making it beat a little stronger. I was to have been named after a beautiful, purple flower, a morning glory. The color of Mrs. Sunshine’s world. The morning of Ray’s revelation. God planned for me to end up here. What had Daddy said? He had me planted right before we even knew?

  When I walked in, they were all huddled on the floor by my bunk. Maize caught my eye and then nodded. He pushed his bag under the bedframe and loosened Bean’s arms from around his neck.

  Bell started to sing the song she’d heard tonight, the one by Mahalia Jackson, and I stood still, my hand resting on the tarnished knob. She sang the sparrow song, and my heart sprouted wings again.

  Maize’s hand was now laced in mine, and I felt the panic from him like a heatwave. Bell was at my other hand now, pulling me back toward the bunk.

  Daddy spoke softly as I slid down beside the kids and kissed them all on the forehead.

  He said, “It’s okay, Sweet Potato. This time, I think you’re right. This place is the one. Angels are watching over us here. We’re here for a reason. I believe it. So, if you’ve lost that running faith, I guess I’m the daddy, and I’m going to have it for the both of us.”

  I couldn’t argue anymore. Hearing Momma’s story coming from Daddy had deflated me, but Bell sang the fear right out of me. Years of pent-up, angry words had finally been said, but the air was still sweet between us all, and the love was stronger than ever. I finally fell asleep to Bean’s soft snoring and Bell’s gentle humming.

  The last thing I remembered was praying to God to forgive me for what I had done ten years ago—for wanting something I didn’t need—and for what I had done tonight by threatening to take the kids and move on. And to go ahead and forgive me for what I was about to do tomorrow. Because now, with Ray here with me, things were going to have to change.

  School passed by again with an A plus. Flying colors, smiling faces, no attacks, just friendliness and belonging. It all was confirmed at the end of sixth period, when Maize told me a girl gave him her number. Okay, where were we? On some alien planet, about to have our brains sucked out for testing?

  He punched me while I was doing homework on the bus, making a long pencil mark on my paper. “What got into you last night?”

  “Life. Truth.” A slap in the face was needed—across Daddy’s face, not mine.

  “We are starting something here, Sweet Potato. Don’t go and mess it up for me.”

  He waved the tiny slip of paper in front of my face for the fiftieth time—the proof that a girl was bold enough to endure teasing for liking a boy named Maize Pile Jones with an address like The Home.

  I asked, “Do you think Daddy is going to change his mind and take us all away from here?”

  “Well, then, we’ve got to change Daddy.” He was nodding, his lips pursed out.

  I laughed, despite the hurt coursing through me. “Change Daddy? Go change the weather, Maize. Let me see some Southern snow in August. You’d have a better chance doing that than rewiring Daddy.”

  It was sad, but it was truth, and I was beyond hiding behind misconceptions and cloudy days.

  He leaned in closer. “I overheard the Patterson’s. It’s more than what you think. Mrs. Sunshine’s got something going on behind that perfectly pinned-up hair that might be to our advantage.”

  “What did you hear?” I knew Ray said his momma was working on something, but he never got around to telling me.

  “Nothing much.” His eyes were belying him, and they sparkled like sapphire jewels in a pirate’s treasure chest.

  I punched him, and he moaned, making the bus driver glance behind him with beady eyes. No one acted up on his bus. Still weird, but true.

  “Tell it, Maize.”

  “Nothing but about Mrs. Sunshine trying to set Daddy up with some woman from the church—some window woman named Macy McCall.” He made funny faces at me, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. The driver glared at me again, but this time it was accompanied by a smile.

  “Window woman? Like a window-washer? Or do you mean widow? Like husband-died woman?” He was hilarious.

  “Yeah, I guess so. Daddy would have something in common with her, not with a window-washer. What would they talk about?”

  He was still plain serious, not seeming perturbed by this one bit. Having Mrs. Sunshine thinking of setting Daddy up seemed to cross some sort of line. But then again, if Daddy had a connection to this place, then maybe, just maybe … The brilliance of that woman had no end.

  “Okay. I see the potential in this. But still, it ain’t going to work.” I was still doubtful, but I could see Maize had plans all his own.

  “No. That’s why we’ve got our own little secret weapon.”

  He popped his hand like a pistol.

  I was too tired to try to figure it out. “What are you talking about?”

  He pointed to Bell. “Little, singing, black beauty back there. If we can get her working on that Macy lady, then we’ve got Daddy shooed in, for sure.”

  Maize seemed pretty proud of his little, worked-out plan.

  I reminded him. “Daddy hasn’t tried on any new shoes in so long he wouldn’t even know how to start to tie the laces. He’d definitely not find somebody his size that could put up with the specifications of the traveling life … if you know what I mean.”

  No home. No security. No steady beat. Who would fall for that? Oh, yeah—Ray. I forgot.

  And that brought me back to Ray, a man who didn’t deserve this. Me. I didn’t deserve him, and I knew this from the beginning. But when I kissed him, I felt all things possible. He kissed me. He loved me. He even told Daddy he was going to marry me one day and take care of me for the rest of my life. I think he would do that for the kids, too. He wouldn’t leave them be.

  The bus stopped right in front of The Home for wayward families and no-future ramblers. We piled off, one at a time. No one sneered or joked. Some little girl in pigtails told Bell she’d see her at school tomorrow—that was it. The black smoke from the exhaust swirled around us as we made our way through the gate.

  The only hope I had was waiting on me four minutes down the road, and I couldn’t wait to ease on down there to see my ray of sunshine. He was sitting with Mr. Jackson, playing a game of checkers. It was mighty quiet in the place, and it suited my mood just fine. I went on over to lean across the booth beside them. I smiled at Ray’s look of defeat, watching his brow furrow with disappointment.

  “I see who must be winning.”

  Mr. Jackson chuckled with pride. “Of course, honey. Who else?” He triple-jumped Ray right ou
t of the game.

  Ray clapped. “I give up, Mr. Jackson. Pie on me. Come on, Sweet Potato. Give it a shot.”

  I smiled, tying my apron around my waist. “Do I get free pie, too?”

  He laughed. “I’ll give you more than just a piece of pie. Whatever you want?”

  I smiled shyly at him. “How about a kiss?”

  Mr. Jackson hooted. “Come on, now! I think I deserve the kissing. Come on over here, Ray.” He puckered up his lips, and we both couldn’t help but laugh hysterically as he pulled Ray close, trying to smooch him.

  Ray pulled me down into the booth in front of Mr. Jackson. It didn’t take me long to finish the old man off, and I hated I had the skill to do it. He seemed to take pride in his perfect record. But game-playing had always been easy for me. With not much to do at shelters but go through the old games, I was mighty good at things like dominoes and checkers.

  Mr. Jackson huffed. “I demand a rematch, Sweet Potato.”

  The bell jingled, and a new group of customers came on in. I stood up to welcome them, apologizing again to Mr. Jackson for beating him. He swatted at me. “Tell me how that kiss is, Ray, when it happens. If it ever happens.”

  Ray shot him a wicked glance before going through the double-doors. “I don’t kiss and tell, Mr. Jackson. Sorry.”

  I wanted to kiss and tell Ray how I felt shame and love and regret for pulling him into my life. Business picked up, along with the comfortable chaos. The music blasted and so did the energy of the place and then, just like that it was over. Ray took my hand in his and led me on down to our walk. I stopped him at the bench and pulled him to sit beside me. His arm came around my shoulder, and I leaned up against him, needing to steal this moment. Even if it was only a moment.

  I would be daring. “You still owe me that kiss.”

  “I do.” He leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips. “What is it? Tell me. I know you’ve been holding in something weighing heavy on you. Tell me.”

  I didn’t know how to, really. If I told him about my fear around my birthday, then I’d have to tell him about Momma and how it all started, and I’d have to eventually tell him about me. So I sat on the bench, watching the bugs dance around the streetlight, wondering if any of them had ponderings about futures or pasts.

  “Go on, Sweet Potato. What is it?”

  I looked down at his hands over mine, and I decided I could tell this man anything, and he would try his best to love me through it. He loved me through poverty and homelessness. He could love me through the past right up to my present, too.

  I laughed out loud. It just hit me. “When we say, ‘for richer or poorer,’ we already got that taken care of before we even say, ‘I do,’ and I know it’s true.”

  He smiled at me quizzically. “What are you talking about, girl?”

  So I told him. I told him about the afternoon of my birthday when I’d cried my eyes out for a puppy, even though we really didn’t have the money to buy anything that would take constant upkeep. But I felt like I deserved it for being eight. The pet shop was a few blocks down from Daddy’s hotel. I told him about Daddy warning us not to leave the house, because if we did, Momma would have a chance of meeting up with one of her suppliers. But I’d been naïve and thought she wouldn’t need her fix on a special day like my birthday. But on the trip back, she’d got a bad bag, one that was laced with junk, and it hit her hard. Too hard. I’d seen Momma on the trip to Never Never Land many times before, but this time when that white foam came pouring down the side of her mouth and her eyes rolled back in her pretty head—this time I’d known I was in the middle of a nightmare.

  I told him all about the years after, in little bursts with captions and short descriptors, enough for him to understand.

  “You changed my life. It might be simple to you, but it matters mightily to me. Ray, you love me.”

  I looked down at his hands again. It was a statement of fact, but it still came out as if I was asking him a question. Would I ever grow past my insecurities?

  “Yes, I do, and I always will.”

  And I knew that it was true, regardless of what my mind tried to tell me. Just like the way that God was above me and around me all at once. Ray was a gift from God. My very own blessing. Amen.

  I told him about the calendar and what my birthday meant. I told him I never saw myself with a future, like colleges or jobs or any idea of what might be going down next week. It was inconceivable to even think about me being an adult, even though I’d lived smack into the adult world since I was eight years old. Could he understand the way that my mind was wired? Could I even begin to explain it?

  “And you love me poor? With this dirt over me? This past?”

  “You’re rich in spirit, Sweet Potato. There’s a kindness in you that speaks to me. It’s your gentle way, your caring way. You will be my wife, and I’ll be your husband. I will take care of you and your family. Don’t walk around thinking it’s your fault about your momma or your current situation. I promise you that I will …”

  My hand came up to shush him. I had to stop this.

  “But see? You don’t know, really, because you have a bedroom. A roof. A momma. A place of your own. You have never had to live on the street. What if Daddy decides it’s time, and he snatches us all away?” It wasn’t an accusation. It was truth.

  “It’s not what you have. It’s what God is. Remember that one?” He smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but smile right back. It was a good quote to keep handy, because it worked in so many situations. Even this one.

  “Having money isn’t the most important thing about life. It’s love.”

  I already knew that. I’d come to that conclusion on my very own. “So, you mean you still want to go out on a date with me?”

  “What does that mean? You changin’ your mind now?” He laughed at me again. “I’ll never get used to the way you speak. You surprise me all day long.”

  “Well, surprise. I don’t feel worthy of your love. Sorry, but I have to be honest with you. I don’t doubt you if you don’t want to date me.” I shrugged.

  Ray continued to break me down with his way. “What part of ‘husband’ didn’t you understand? You’re going to be eighteen on September 24th. I’m about to ask you to be my wife. I’ve been saving up for something for a while now, not really knowing what it would be for. Now I know.” He took my ring finger in his hand, trying to figure out how to measure it.

  Then he stopped in his tracks and frowned. “Oh, I see. I won’t ask you that day.”

  My heart hit the pavement, and I stood up, turning to walk away. “Of course, you won’t, Ray. That’s what I’ve been trying to say.”

  “No, no,” he stammered, running up behind me, putting his arms around my waist and pulling me close to him. “I meant, that day holds so many bad memories for you. I couldn’t do that to you. Mix the good with the bad like that. I want you to remember the day that I ask you to marry me apart from your Momma passing away. Baby, I love you,” he whispered in my ear, and my heart found its way back to beating again, and I was sure he could hear it.

  “Just show me.”

  Could I love him back the way he needed? What did he expect out of me? Out of a wife? I wasn’t as good as Mrs. Sunshine, and I never would be. He had his parents and a solid upbringing. How could I ever measure up to that kind of love?

  He squeezed me tighter as we walked awkwardly down the sidewalk, and he buried his face in my hair. I froze solid. I wanted to memorize how it felt to be held by him. “If you were going to leave me, I would’ve barricaded you in somewhere, had petitions signed, stopped the wrecking ball from swinging. I was working on mighty hard prayers to keep you here with me.”

  Date. Time. “Oh, Ray!”

  I looked down at my watch. It was reaching ten thirty. Daddy wasn’t here looking out for me. We had forgot all about the time. Oh, Lordy, no!

  I took off running, Ray right after me, laughing. “We in it n
ow, huh?”

  All I could pant was the word, “Pray!”

  We made it through the gate and up to number seven, and I creaked open the door. Everybody was up, and the flashlight was on Bean. He was doing one of his standup routines, telling knock-knock jokes that never quite worked out, but we would laugh at him anyway.

  Ray whispered behind me, “What are y’all doing with the flashlight?”

  Bean turned to me. “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

  I shrugged. “Don’t know, Bean. Tell me.”

  “To run from Daddy fox, because he’s about to eat you alive.” He busted out laughing hysterically.

  I rolled my eyes. “Very funny, Bean.”

  Daddy nodded. “Come on in, baby. Ray. Nice to see you again.” What? No “where you been?” No “I’m going to ground you from date night.” No nothing. Just “nice to see you.” Hello?

  “I’m really sorry, Daddy. I had a lot of explaining to do with Ray. We were down at the park bench between here and Soul Food. I promise that’s the truth.”

  Ray stepped up beside me and held out his hand to Daddy, who shook it without twisting him around into a chokehold.

  “Sorry, sir. It’s my fault. I was caught up in spending time with Sweet Potato, and we were talking about so much that the time truly did pass by without our being aware. I’ll try my best, sir, to respect your wishes in every way in the future.” The way Ray spoke to Daddy was so commendable. Who could even go against it?

  Daddy asked with a smile, “Do you own one of them cellphones?”

  “Yes, sir.” Ray pulled it out of his pocket. “Just to call in with Momma.”

  Daddy nodded. “Do that now, son. She’s probably worried right about now. Ask her can you stay a little bit longer. That way you can listen to Bean’s act. I don’t think you should miss it. He’s actually on a roll tonight.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ray quickly called his momma to report in and to say he’d be only a little while longer.