The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter

by Kia Corthron

  In the quiet I see framed on a shelf one a Lily’s, high school football quarterback, the town star lass fall and too young to know those three months a glory prolly be the best a his entire life. On the shelf above: schoolbooks. Organic Chemistry. Pop go a firework. I open it, flip right to a chart take up two pages acrost: Periodic Table of the Elements. It ring a bell, I remember once I had some kinda curiosity about it. Riflin through I glimpse density an matter an atomic theory an balancin chemical equations an suddenly I wanna take it home, read it cover to cover! But it gotta be one a Lily’s kids’. Put it back. Muss be somethin similar at the library. B.J. get to the library regular, I’ma start to too, pop.

  Throw my empty bottle in the garbage, head on up the steps. Now Erma sittin where I’d been, Buppie still there, finally pulled hisself back up on the chair. No hard feelins, Buppie say, I overstepped, overstepped. Pop. Blue stars an green.

  I go over by where the vehicles parked. Benja an Aaron somewheres near in the dark, laughin an kissin. I light a cigarette, sit on my truck’s runnin board. B.J. lookin out at the works from inside, upstairs winda. Light in the bedroom he stand in make it easy to see him, but in the night imagine I’m invisible as Benja an Aaron. This solitude I like, no one see me, but boun not to last. Here come Erma.

  I got an idea.

  I take a puff.

  I was jus talkin to Lily an Deb Ellen, an Deb Ellen said lass week she run into her ole friend Sandy Whiner in the market by the produce, Sandy Whiner who she went to school with an played ball with, now also married with children.

  What I think but don’t utter to Erma is contrary to her family tradition a quittin after sixt, Deb Ellen went to eighth where her an Sandy Whiner was the star girl athletes them lass two years an where her an Sandy got real tight, maybe too tight people said.

  Well Sandy tells Deb Ellen they’re startin the ladies’ leagues, sofball. They don’t start till middle a June, after school’s out since most a the players are mothers. Aw Deb Ellen you gotta pitch, Sandy tells her. An Deb Ellen: How? an point to her overflowin shoppin cart, referrin to all her babies. Only once a week, only Wednesdays. The men’s leagues take up all the fields over the weekends. An who gonna watch em? Deb Ellen asks.

  Us! That’s what I jus told her at the picnic table. Once a week, few times over the summer. We don’t mind havin a little practice in our future parentin. Well Deb Ellen look at me not sure, say I oughta check in with you. She also say her an Calvin happy to pay: ten dollars a night. I say, No! But she insist.

  I look at Erma’s pleadin eyes. All eager, advertisin to the whole damn clan WE ARE CHILDLESS an her desperation not to be.

  How Deb Ellen end up with that Calvin I’ll never know. His own business, sellin swimmin pools to the rich, income ain’t nothin they never worried about. Their eighth anniversary few months back somehow we end up babysittin their litter, Deb Ellen lookin all uncomfortable in her blue dress, seem like she only feel like herself in pants, an Calvin all in love, grinnin ear to ear. Their oldest seven an five behine that one. Enda the evenin look like some tornado gone through our livin room, little Deb Ellens tearin up everywhere.

  On the other han ten bucks a week supplemental. An the mill buyout, whatever that mean.

  Sure.

  Aw, thanks honey! She gimme a big hug an kiss. I’ll tell her! A louder bang an we both turn. Big purple an blue one.

  He’s right you know.

  I turn back to her.

  Buppie. Bout the school innergration. We need the Klan strong, solid if we gonna prevent it. Buppie said he also joined the White Citizens Council, every ammunition we got. You considered that? The White Citizens Council?

  What else he say? Offer any specific theories about why he thinks I ain’t been so committed as I oughta?

  Everbody’s tired, Randall, all the mill men got long hours.

  I take a long puff, smoke flow out my nose.

  Hey, B.J. lookin at the fireworks! I thought he was a-scared a the fireworks.

  I shrug. He still don’t like to go to the park. He feel the vibrations there, feel the explosions set the world movin.

  How come he so spooked?

  A dud make a harsh bang even this far from the park an me an Erma flinch. B.J. stare, don’t stir.

  He was little, some kids. He thought they was bein friendly. Put firecrackers on his shoulders. Lit em, burned him.

  Erma turn to me, starin wild a minute fore she speak, eyes all shiny. I hate kids! No, parents! They trained em. Nut don’t fall far!

  A cricket right on the groun in fronta us. Thirty-two I turned week an a half ago an still can’t help but smile: good luck. So I near most fall off the runnin board when Erma stomp it, smash it dead.

  Why God give all the fertility to them prolly couldn’t raise a puppy proper, let alone a child!

  My mother comes to the winda, puts her arm aroun B.J., kisses him, then look right at us, her mouth wide open in some fake surprise while it obvious she come jus for the opportunity for me to see her. So guess I ain’t so invisible. Why she always after me anyway? She points in Erma’s an my direction for B.J., who squints, tryin to make us out, then start wavin big, like we all some long-loss friends. Erma wave back smilin, wipin her tears.

  See yer ma, Randall? An B.J.? Your brother sure loves his family!

  Big bang. Some a them thousands a cousins got home works, a red-orange sizzler right in the yard, an B.J. jump, back away from the winda, I know he wanna go home. But steel hisself to stay. In the ole days she be givin him a little comfort hug round about now, but grown man, guess he old for that. An somethin else. Occurs to me for the firs time he ain’t her favorite no more. What I hoped for my whole life I got an till now didn’t see it, I moved into my mother’s favored position jus by no longer bein interested in it.

  In spite a the periodic too-close booms, B.J. stan there, all mesmerized gazin, little smile on his face. My guess is that’s the advantage a deaf. Our ma right nex to him but he got the choice. He can be with her but he also got the grand option a jus goin inta hisself, alone. Erase us all.

  5

  Thirteen hours straight at the mill, I sure make no complaints. Two a the young guys recently laid off. Feel bad but jus prayin them’s all the adjustments needs to be made with the buyout. Get home all I wanna do is hibernate like the bear, starvin an too tired to eat. Which is good cuz I notice no sign a supper.

  In the guestroom I stare at it.

  Oh Randall! Honey I forgot to cook, I’m sorry. I jus got all excited.

  I stare at it. Crib.

  I know I’m jumpin the gun but. Well, waitin for you to get home, workin so late, I couldn’t wait no longer. I wanted to see the crib in here! The doctor said. Oh I know I’m jumpin the gun but this time I jus feel it, I know this baby gonna pull through. Sixt try’s a charm!

  She kiss me an I kiss her, she smile an I smile. Many a time in the past I think to take a ax to that goddamn crib.

  Course I’d asked B.J. to Saturday night supper so it’s TV dinners, which he accept all gracious like that Salisbury steak’s a T-bone. All the while she reiteratin Buppie’s appeal, impressin upon the special importance of attendin the meetin tomorra night with a little one on the way. The part bout the little one she mouth, move her lips but no sound, which mean I ain’t sposed to sign that part to B.J. but since she exaggerate her lips enough for me to read then surely he can read em hisself. An Sunday, she go on, You’ll have all day to rest up before the gatherin. I don’t insert Rest up? Ain’t I gotta mow the lawn, yank the weeds?

  I ain’t got the energy for arguin so while she puttin dirty dishes in the sink I ask B.J. he wanna come.

  Pa did it?

  Yeah, remember? His robe she threw in with the colors, turned pink.

  He grin.

  Sunday afternoon I’m clippin the hedges, she comes up. Your mother called. Since y
ou’re goin by to pick up B.J. for the meetin anyway she figure she celebrate his birthday a day early, you show up nine instead a ten: she got the cake. I keep workin, don’t answer. I know my mother made this plan so if I don’t show up early, look like I slighted him. Dammit! Clipped a blamed big hole in the hedge.

  Benja’s there with her brood, runnin aroun like somethin wild an native. An like it ain’t raucous enough, B.J. hammerin, mendin Ma’s knickknack shelf, here’s how he celebrate his birthday. Somethin that seem to come natural to him not long after he gained language: fix-it man.

  Where that bruise on your jaw come from? I ask my sister.

  Fell. Minutes later she head to the bathroom, return with more cake makeup like that big blacknblue don’t shine right through.

  She wanna get the kids home an in bed so we get the cake done. Afterward Ma insist on a Polaroid a the whole gang. Then B.J. say he wanna take one with Ma in it. But Ma: No, you’re the birthday boy. Thirty-seven-year-ole boy, I think. He insist, an for his shot he put the kids sittin in front an us standin behind: Ma in the middle, Benja on her one side, me on her other. I ain’t been this close to Ma in years an I don’t appreciate it. Ma put her arm around us. Benja put her arm aroun Ma. My arms hang loose. After the flash I say, Let’s go, an I head for the door an lass second I turn to see B.J.’s arm aroun Ma, her with the teary eyes.

  Turns out it ain’t just a regular ole meetin. It’s a rally, cross-burner which always draw a crowd, newcomers as well as the slackers in the general membership. Me an B.J. close, sweatin from the flames. An from the six-pack I got us for an appetizer. The guy railin on an on about job competition an Northern agitators an a course school innegration, I’m signin it all fass to B.J., You gettin all this?

  He smile, sign back: Nigger Kyke Nigger Kyke.

  More brew at the gatherin so we come back sloshed an stumblin, an I know better n go home to Erma stinkin a liquor. She so happy I went to the meetin, tomarra jus tell her me an my Klux fellas was plannin till the wee hours. I go in with B.J., tiptoe upstairs. My brother had every right turn our ole room inta his room but never did. I lay on my twin jus like comin up, he on his. But he don’t turn out the light, meanin he wanna talk. My eyelids heavy, comin down

  BANG! with the pilla.

  I jump awake, stare at him. He got the mischievous grin, I sign, You gonna regret that, son. Grab my own pilla.

  You never had to go to the mill.

  I stop. He ain’t grinnin no more.

  After Pa died. Now B.J.’s hans flyin. She never said quit school and go to the mill, I went to the mill. I make enough to take care of the family, you’re the one decided you had to quit school and work, I didn’t ask you to. She didn’t ask you to.

  Where this come from? Usually B.J. don’t overdrink, now I see what happen when he do: his hans get way too damn chatty. An even with that bitta bloodshot, his eyes look pretty sober to me.

  They weren’t payin you right! That’s why I went. They were payin you deaf wages! Still do!

  I made enough.

  For the whole damn family? You think that then you ain’t got no math sense.

  Blaming her because you dropped out. Nobody but you.

  Who said I was blamin her? I don’t ever remember discussin this subject with you! Maybe her an I jus don’t got nothin in common, maybe people jus grows apart.

  He stare.

  Well she never stopped me. Did she! She was the mother, she coulda stopped me goin to the mill.

  She was mourning, she didn’t know what to do.

  She was the mother, she shoulda stopped me!

  Nobody but you.

  Bolt up outa that bed, run down the steps, slam open the damn door. Light click on, I see it from her winda, see she jus woke turned it on, hell with em all. An even in my rage I know I’ll do somethin tomarra to make up. Drive by, I won’t turn off the engine but she’ll come out, Ma come out all hopeful an I’ll say I’m goin to the market, you need anything? An she’ll smile wide, Aw, I’m all set but thank you for thinkin a me honey! We both know she got B.J. to run to the store for her, the offer jus symbolic an then her an I okay a while. I park a block away an walk so the truck don’t wake up Erma, catch me stumblin.

  Sleepin with a frown. The daylight she happy hopeful, but nighttime I know the toilets filled with blood rip through her dreamin.

  Tiptoe to the nursery, that what she be callin it how long. Three weeks? Two months? All them fertilizins ain’t never swoll her belly out a smidge.

  Move a chair to the crib. Lean forward, lay my tired head on the side bar. Some people find it hard to believe I got a memory so early, but I recall bein a toddler standin in my own crib, Ma’s big face in mine, holdin this stuffed bunny. Her cheeks puckered out, ticklin me, kissin me, an I’m squealin happy, Hey Randall, Ma loves you, Ma loves you.

  Spring day. I’m out in the yard an hear, Daddy look at me! My little toddler girl up a tree, twirlin aroun, dancin on a branch. I’ll catch ya, sugarplum! In my dream tryin to comfort her, thinkin she’s scared but my daughter jus keep laughin an dancin on that branch, happy like the sun.

  6

  Here come Deb Ellen in her sofball jersey, white letters on orange, carryin that baby still not a year yet, the other five fallin in line behind. Late June, me an Erma’s third weekly shift: zookeepers to the beasts.

  Mommy can I have some milk? Mommy I have to go potty. Mommy you kiss my booboo? But like she ain’t hearin none of em, her eyes in the meer, make sure her uniform got all the wrinkles ironed out, checkin her teeth for stuck food. Deb Ellen got a thickness, big girl, but don’t seem like middle age. She always was athletic so her grown-up stockiness feel right for her. Mommy can I put on your baseball glove? Thank you for keepin an eye on em thrown over her shoulder as she sail out. Mommy Mommy cryin at the door. On the table a ten-spot. We don’t ask but Deb Ellen feel better about it: pay upfront.

  Yaw want Aunt Erma bake ya some chocolate chip cookies? Holdin the infant, smilin like they’s all the angel a angels. Randall, why on’t you show em Henry Lee’s train?

  In the tradition a Henry Lee I got it set up in the basement an some Sundays after walkin Henry Lee I might come home an work with it a hour or two.

  What kinda car is this? says A.R., oldest boy, name after his uncle Artie Ray that passed.

  LaSalle.

  What’s a LaSalle?

  Manufactured by GM, 1927 to ’40. Built by Cadillac. You hearda Cadillac? Well this here’s his offspring.

  Except for the occasional question, they’re quiet, miracle! watchin the trip past the school, the market, roun the mountain, by the lake. Then Erma, Cookies! They all fly up the steps. Cep the firsborn, girl with the long dark hair. Seven an I never see her speak a word besides Stop it or Behave to the rest, seem like she never have play-fun all her own. But the train she can’t keep her eyes offa.

  How you doin in school, Lou Mary?

  She jump a little, like forgot I was there. Guess no one seem to speak to her much. Outa all a Deb Ellen’s litter, she the only wheel ain’t squeaky.

  Fine.

  Whatchu think you like to be when you grow up?

  She bite her lip. Teacher.

  Teacher? That’s a good thing. You gotta go to college for that. You plan on goin to college?

  Nod her head. Train goin through the mountain tunnel. Sometime I imagine I’m ridin on top, through the blackness, but there’s always the hope up ahead, peek a light. Now approachin the crossin, safety stick comin down, bell ringin, always remine me a Henry Lee’s penchant for very tragic accidents.

  You went to college?

  That question catch me off guard. Usually Lou Mary ain’t one to speak less she spoke to.

  I wanted to go to college. Be a lawyer. You know what a lawyer is?

  In court?

  Uh-huh.

  How come you ain’
t one?

  You like to work the controls?

  She nods, eyein me like she ain’t sure I really mean it. I wave her over an she come runnin. Laughin, ain’t it a delight to see it comin outa that solemn girl!

  Lou Mary. You better come on up here fore no cookies left.

  My little cousin highly reluctant to leave the train but follow after Erma. I turn it off an come on up, the brats all peaceful roun the table, crunchin, glasses a milk. Cep I don’t see that Marky, worrisome cuz lass week he come up missin in action, later I fine my garden hose cut in two.

  I go upstairs lookin for the little devil, half scared what I might see. An hear a soun give my belly a ache. There he be in the guestroom, thrustin the walls with the toilet plunger, rings appearin all over the wallpaper. I’ma smack you to kingdom come, boy. He try to fly past me, but on the way I snatch the plunger out his hands, whomp him on his hide. He keep runnin, down the stairs, not even a tear. Ain’t even four years old, only Deb Ellen could make em that bad!

  You know what that boy doin upstairs?

  All innocent, hidin behine Erma, peekin out at me.

  Whatever it is, I’m sure you whooped him for it.

  Damn right. An I ain’t finished. I make a move an he fly out the back door.

  When’s Deb Ellen gonna grow up, take care a her own?

  Lease she ain’t screamin at em all the time, like your sister.

  Ya gotta notice em to scream at em, Deb Ellen pop one out every five minutes an forget about em. An where’s Calvin? Prolly enjoyin some peace an quiet, ear glued to the radio, Cardinals game.

  She ignore me, all wide-eyed baby-talkin. This argument we have every Wednesday.

  Wait till you see that guestroom.

  Now her all teary, dammit. My slip: spose ta say nursery. But her hurt feelins can’t lass long aroun here, what with one screamin an the other slappin an the firs one bawlin an Erma called upon for arbitrations. Where Marky go? she ask.