Sweet Potato Jones

by Jen Lowry

  I prayed, “God, forgive me. Give me another day to make it right.”

  Words spilled from me—from a well within me that spoke of all of my doubt, and fears, and unworthiness. I prayed for those people back at Soul Food. Ray. My second family. Oh, Lordy, let them all be safe. Let none of them be dead, let them not be claimed. Let that little boy have no blood on his hands. Let them …

  The lock clicked, and Maize came busting in, the door slamming against the metal frame. “I told you! You don’t ever hear me!”

  He kicked me as I lay there in tears. I felt the brunt of his shoe against my side, but I didn’t even flinch.

  “Maize,” I cried out.

  He fell to his knees in front of me and pushed the hair out of my face. My hands were bound and bleeding, and he pulled out a knife, clicked it open with ease, and cut through the rope.

  “I’ve got to get you out of here. Why did they mark you?”

  “They thought I was Denise. Ray’s cousin is in The Five.” When I said that name, he spit at my feet as if he’d had a long-running feud with them all his life. “They called out something about Tiny.”

  Maize said, “Tiny was shot last night. We got to retaliate. It’s what we do.” He pulled me to my feet. “But not with my sister. I told you not to come here.”

  “Can’t you stop them?” I whispered, watching him looking out through the door. I was sure there were more Reapers about.

  “I haven’t completed my initiation yet. I have no voice.” He wiped sweat from his face—or was that tears? “You are marked and done for. I can’t believe I got you into this mess.”

  “No, I can’t believe you got yo’self into this mess. I would’ve still been working in Soul Food today. It could have happened even if you weren’t in this gang. You being here is going to get us both out of this. Maybe that’s why God let you do this—to save us both.”

  “I can’t be saved.” Maize silenced me with his hand across my lips. “I’m done, Sweet Potato. When I get you out of here, you run as far as you can. They’ll put a bounty on your head. You hear me? You got to take them kids and run.”

  “What’s this?” I heard a call from the yard. “Shaq? What are you doing?”

  “She’s my sister, man.” Maize squared his shoulders.

  “Oh, that’s right. But what you think you are doing? Charon already called this dog to slaughter. What are you doing opening the door for?” He put his hand in his pocket, and I knew what was there, waiting for an invitation.

  “I had to see if it was her.” He darted his eyes at me. “I had to tell her I loved her before I said goodbye.”

  “A family reunion.” Pale Rider was back. “Did you get out all you wanted to say?”

  “No,” I choked out as fast as I could before Pale Rider permanently shut me up. “I love you, Maize. You’re my best friend. You find a way to get those kids back for me. You tell them …” My voice broke, and he flinched. “You tell them I’ll always love them, and I’ll be watching them from heaven with Momma.” Even though Momma might sure be in hell.

  “How you so sure you going to heaven?” A Reaper came from behind me, wrapping my hands back up.

  This time I cried out in pain. “Because I believe in Jesus Christ, my Savior and Lord.”

  Let them do to me as they willed. They wouldn’t take faith from me now. That was all I had left.

  “You hear that, Shaq? Your sista’s got Jesus. I guess you got the Devil.” They flashed signs at me, and I turned my head from them.

  One said, “You go on and finish this quick, Charon. She gets to go meet her maker.”

  I could feel the energy in the air, hear the rapid beating of hearts racing. Everything seemed so distinct to me—so close to my face. I could feel Maize’s fear and hopelessness rising.

  “Please,” I heard him beg. “Don’t.”

  Charon stepped forward. He looked like he had years of torture scarring him. He slammed Maize in the nose, and Maize’s head snapped back. I flinched for his pain. I was sure his nose was broken.

  “She’s mine. We gonna do this like it was done to Tiny—execution style.” They grabbed me by my hair again and dragged me out to the middle of the dirt yard.

  I heard cries of rage from the other Reapers, and my mind closed to their voices.

  Pale Rider stepped in front of me. “Wait!”

  His hands came up, and I prayed for a pardon. Would this Caesar let me go free?

  “Let Shaq show us his loyalty. Let him be the one to pull the trigger. Give him your gun.”

  “But … I …”

  He was interrupted sharply. “Take the gun, or you go down with her.”

  Oh, Lordy! How did it come to this? I watched Maize’s hand—the hand that could grip a basketball like no other I’d ever seen, that hand I’d held through so many panic attacks. The hand that grabbed the gun that was going to take my life.

  I didn’t know how I was able to speak, but I was. “Maize, I love you. Just do it fast. Get the kids and run.”

  He put the gun over his head and fired three shots. The other members raised their weapons and let off another volley of shots. I heard some of them paying tribute to Tiny, their fallen warrior. The gun was slowly lowered, and I watched as Maize’s black pant legs brushed up against my shoulder. I tried to lean into him, to feel the comfort of my baby brother one last time, but I swayed and missed, falling to the ground.

  Somebody kicked my head, and I felt the brunt of a shoe crushing my skull. My body was moving in slow motion again, pulled and dragged and set upright. He was behind me now. The boy I’d loved from the first second I’d seen his crystal-blue eyes. I had never been alone in this world, because I’d always had him to protect—always had his back. And now he was against mine. I could hear his ragged breath, feel his fear creeping up my spine, even as the muzzle of the gun was shoved hard against the back of my head. I stared straight ahead, waiting for death to come. Waiting for the end. Somehow, in the midst of this, I had found my peace.

  God, let Maize be forgiven for this. Let Maize make it out. Please, Jesus, put your arms around …

  Pop.

  The shot rang in my ears. A steel-toed boot shoved me violently, crushing me, pushing me down. My face hit the grass, and I braced myself for the rush of pain that coursed through my body. I heard sirens and the sounds of a gate being busted—scraping metal and clanging chains.

  “Raid!”

  I heard shouts from every direction.

  “Don’t move.”

  Dogs barked.

  Were they friendly, or should I be scared?

  My thoughts crashed together like clanging cymbals. I could feel the pressure of a bookbag. Was I at school? No—it was too heavy for a bookbag. My books weren’t that heavy. What was it? I tried to force myself to rise, but I was tied to the ground with invisible cables.

  A body was lying over me.

  Dead weight.

  Oh, my God!

  Was it Maize?

  I tried to lift my head, but I couldn’t. Those big shoes truly did leave a mighty fine impression on me. My vision was blurred. I caught a glimpse of black pants moving past me. Faded jeans. Black work boots. Tight, black pants with blue stripes down the sides. Why would I catalog clothes at a time like this?

  “Miss, are you okay?” A firm hand was on my shoulder. “Miss, can you hear me?”

  The weight lifted off my body. I floated like a bird in the storm. My eyes closed, and I succumbed to the darkness, praying that when it was all over and done with, I would see light at the end.

  Suffocating. My body jerked and heaved upward like I was breaking free of the river Styx that filled my lungs with black water, dragging me under. I let out a noise, but it didn’t sound human.

  “Sweet Potato.” His hands cradled my face, and I could feel his fingers running down my cheek. “Oh, baby.”

  I tried to focus on his face. Nothing felt like it was working righ
t. The haze felt like permanent tears clouding my vision.

  “Ray.” I tried to speak, but it only came out in a broken whisper.

  “Momma,” he called out, without taking his hands from my face. “Momma!”

  “I’m here, I’m here.” Mrs. Sunshine came busting into the room. I heard her enter, but I couldn’t turn my eyes from Ray. My head wouldn’t turn if I tried. I felt duct-taped to the pillow. I needed for him to know just how much …

  Did days pass, or was it a moment?

  The scene was the same. Still suffocating. Still hurting—but at least this time my eyes could clearly register the face of the man I adored. Could I speak?

  “I love you, Ray Patterson. I love you. I was saying I ain’t got nothing to live for except you. You are my life, Ray. I love you.”

  My voice still hadn’t gained its momentum, and I squeaked like a little field mouse.

  He cried, “I know, baby, and you are mine. I love you, too, baby.”

  He kissed my mouth eagerly, the wetness of his tears against my cheek.

  “Joe, she just woke up. Come on.” The phone slammed down on the table beside me.

  The room was filled with nurses and a doctor with flashlights and probes and big, old black arm cuffs. Questions were being thrown at me.

  “You suffered head trauma, Sweet Potato. Do you remember what happened?”

  When the doctor asked me that one, it only took one look at Ray for me to know the truth of what had happened behind my back.

  “He’s gone.”

  I knew it was true, and I knew what he had sacrificed for me. Oh, Maize, why did it come to that? Your life over mine. You could have taken mine just fine if it meant you would have lived.

  The doctor patted my hand. “You have been in a coma for over a week. You are one lucky woman.”

  Mrs. Sunshine said, “Hush up. There was no luck about it. She is blessed and blessed indeed.”

  The mouth of the doctor kept on moving, but I missed everything else he said. I heard something about not rushing things or talking about anything that would upset me. My head was still feeling woozy. The room was spinning like a record. My body fell back against the bed, and I felt my head roll to the side like I hadn’t yet learned how to control my muscles.

  I watched as a man in a white coat put something from a needle into this long tube attached to me, and I was gone again, searching out Maize in my dreams. The boots were crushing my skull. Weight. He was holding out his hands to me. The gun dropping at my side. The smell of the sulfur. All I wanted to tell him was how sorry I was I couldn’t save him, and how brave he was for giving his life for me. I wasn’t worthy of that.

  He wasn’t wearing black at all. His arms were outstretched to me.

  He joked, “How you like this get up?”

  I smiled at him. “White looks good on you.”

  “We prayed me out and upwards.” Maize’s grin was more than I could take.

  I wanted to feel him, touch him.

  But the closer I tried to come to him, the farther and farther away he went, until he was out of my reach completely—and I knew he was gone. Gone, but not lost.

  When I woke up this time, I made sure I did it slower. I focused on my surroundings and let the room come to me. My eyes fell on Mrs. Sunshine. She had her Bible spread out on her lap and her hand over her chest as she leaned over to Mr. Joe, both using each other for props as they slept. Ray was closer to me, and I turned my head the other way to find him. He looked like death warmed over, and I wanted so desperately to comfort him. Daddy was standing behind him, watching me with those giant, dark eyes. I tried to smile at him, and I knew my face twitched, but I wasn’t quite sure if the corners of my mouth came up in the right way.

  “Hey, Daddy,” I whispered. My voice was foreign to my ears, but I knew he could make it out.

  “Hey, Sweet Potato Jones. Welcome back.” He choked back tears.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  I tried my best to keep my face in the smiling position, no matter how it hurt me to do it. My face was bruised, and my jawbone was already starting to ache. If he asked me what I was sorry for, I wouldn’t be able to answer him. I was sorry for all the wrongs in our lives. For all the paths he should have led us on but didn’t. I was sorry for not standing up to his nonsense long ago, stepping along with him when I did have a voice. For enabling him more than helping. I was sorry for all of that, and for so much more, but I would never be able to say it aloud. Some things just had to be understood.

  “I’m sorry, too,” he said.

  And I knew it was for all those things and more. The burden he had carried on his back for all those years must have been a heavy load. I hoped now it could be lifted and we could somehow find a place where we could start over—and I wasn’t talking about leaving Newport News. I meant a place in the heart where forgiveness could heal, and love could find a way.

  Ray rubbed my arm and leaned in close to me. “Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything?”

  “The kids? Are they all right?” I whispered to him. My throat felt like I had swallowed burning knives in a carnival show.

  “They’re with Pastor. We’ve been calling them. They’re too young to come here, because of the hospital rules and all the flu protocols, but they’re worried sick.”

  He rubbed his face with his hands and said, “We’ve all been sick with worry. If I would have lost you …”

  “Well, it’s over now.” I put my hand to my throat, trying to massage it so I could talk better. I sipped the water Ray gave me, but it did me no good.

  “I’ll call them now for you. Do you want to hear them? Why did I ask? Of course, you do.”

  When their voices came on the line, my eyes overflowed with tears. They sounded fine. Ray was talking to me, telling them the tube they’d used down my throat made it hard for me to speak right now, but I could hear everything they were saying, and I was smiling. So that must have meant my face muscles were still working, no matter how strange my bones felt.

  Bean said, “Why did the cookie go to the hospital?”

  Ray asked, “Why?”

  “Because she was feeling crummy.” He laughed on the other end, and I couldn’t help but try to laugh along with him.

  “Hey, do you know if you fart for six straight years, you could power up an atomic bomb?”

  Ray laughed. “Well, is that what you been learning in school this week?”

  Even though he wasn’t funny, and I would never tell him how silly his jokes were, he was my boy, and he was doing what he knew best. He was giving me his gift right there.

  It took me another week before the doctors said I could go home, but that week was spent with me resting in and out and not remembering much of anything. That was what I needed most, I believed. It hurt too much when I saw the way everybody was looking at me. Better living life with my eyes closed.

  When the release papers were signed, I had to sign my own forms. Daddy wasn’t anywhere in sight, and I was sure it was because he was still getting things in order. I guessed that meant he had to see to Maize’s arrangements and burial. I hated he had to face that alone. I’d done all the work for Momma’s funeral and would have probably had to do it all for Maize, if I wasn’t stuck in this hospital.

  Ray said he’d been a hospital camper this whole time and was trying to tell me all about what I’d missed, but he knew I wasn’t listening to anything he was saying. It’s not that I didn’t want not to concentrate; it was too hard to settle my mind on one thing. Sleeping felt much better.

  Ray said, “Yep, that’s right, Sweet Potato. You missed your birthday. You’re already eighteen.”

  The nurse helped me into the wheelchair, even though I didn’t need one. She said it was the rule, and I wouldn’t be making it out of here unless I followed it, so I didn’t fight her on it.

  “I’m glad I missed it.” I knew he would never understand that about me. Some days wer
en’t meant to be celebrating.

  “Don’t think you’re getting out of it that easy. I’ve got something special planned for you,” he whispered in my ear as he helped lift me up into Big Red. I could tell whatever it was, it was eating away at him, and the excitement seemed to grow on him by the second.

  I didn’t feel like talking on the way home, and I was glad I didn’t have to. There were so many questions I had for him. The first was to find out what had happened to Maize’s body. Had they had a proper burial for him, and did they know just how much of a sacrifice my boy had made to save my life? He’d bought me time by firing those shots. He alerted the police with all that shooting. He took his own life to spare mine. I would be the one that would have to tell Maize’s story.

  I had other questions, too. Who were the bodies claimed at Soul Food that day? Was it customers I knew? Had they caught the crew responsible for it? I knew the driver was a trigger man. I could pick him out. And what did this mean for my family and me? Would I be taken again? Was it over? Would any of us ever be safe with a mark on my head? I knew too much.

  Hiding out might still be our only choice in life. What was that on Ray’s apron? Rescue me from my enemies, O Lord, for I hide myself in you.

  Through the windshield, I stared out at the crisp, October sky and watched as the world changed colors without me. Time was passing, still on its celestial plan. Life was moving along at its pace. Who was I to think I could control it, anyway? I lived to say I love you. I lived to say I’m sorry. I would see Maize on the other side. God was still an awesome God. I gave Him all the glory.

  Ray pulled up to the entrance to the church and stopped the car. He was already getting out of the car to help me out.

  “What are we doing here? I know it’s Sunday afternoon and all, but I’m just not up to seeing anybody. I need to go home.”

  “You are home,” he answered me. “I’ve got a surprise for you, remember?”

  I put my hand on his face and drew him into me for a kiss. “Ray Patterson, I love you.”

  He replied, “I love you, too,” as he picked me up and cradled me against his chest. “You’re going to be my wife soon, don’t be forgetting that. Was waiting for that legal age. We gonna make it official.”