Down Home Blues

by Phyllis R. Dixon

  “But it will be different when you have a wife, a new wife. Some things she will have a right to just because she is your wife. I’m not trying to be morbid, but I’m sure your wishes will be different for Miss Emma than what you would have left Mama. She has children too, and it’s possible they could end up with a right to your land. Since you accumulated all of this prior to marrying her, a judge would probably uphold your children’s rights but if you had a prenuptial agreement, there would be no need for lawyers and judges. It’s just another form of insurance to make sure your wishes are carried out.”

  “Emma has her own stuff. She has no interest in the farm.”

  “Human behavior is hard to predict. You can’t be sure of that.”

  “So you’re saying I should have her sign something before we get married that says she doesn’t want any of my stuff?”

  “Something like that.”

  “No wonder marriages don’t last these days. We’ve talked about all of that and I wouldn’t marry her if I didn’t think I could trust her. We even discussed burial plots. She’s done pretty well for herself and you don’t see her handing me no papers to sign. This is a marriage, not a business deal.”

  “But you need to think of it as a business deal. Remember all the money Halle Berry and Sherri Shepherd had to pay?”

  “Those folks are all celebrities with lots more money than I have. Did you and Derrick do one of these prenoopal things?”

  “No.”

  “Then how are you going to tell me to do something you didn’t do?”

  “It’s different with us. There are no children involved and other than our retirement plans, there aren’t any other assets.”

  “Umm. Folks always trying to tell somebody else to do something. I guess I’ll just take my chances that Emma isn’t a gold digger after my loot.”

  “But Daddy—”

  “Look, I already have a will. I’m through talking about this nonsense. Let’s change the subject. Have you heard from Cece lately? She had talked about coming down here awhile back, but she hasn’t called lately.

  “Now that you mention it, I haven’t talked to her in a couple weeks. I need to call her,” I said as I exited the freeway. “We’re going to be cutting it close, so I won’t try to find a parking space. I’m just going to hop out in front of the courthouse. I have to go to the third floor and get my documents time stamped then I’ll be right back. Drive around the block a few times if you see police. We’ll stop at the GNC near the mall on the way back. Maybe we can get something to eat too. I haven’t been to Olive Garden in ages.”

  “I love spending time with you, baby girl, but I need to get on back to Eden. Me and Emma like to watch the baseball game of the week. Derrick probably wants you home, too.”

  “I’m not so sure. Between me and you, I’m not sure getting married was such a good idea.”

  “We all feel like that from time to time. Look at Raymond and Geneva.” Eden seemed to have resurrected my brother’s marriage. He took family leave from his job at the bank and came to Eden to help Mama take care of Daddy after his stroke. While he was down here, his bank merged with another bank and he was offered a buyout. He and Geneva were on the verge of divorce anyway, so he took the buyout and moved to Eden. Absence really did make the heart grow fonder, and they reconciled. He moved back to Chicago for a little while, but couldn’t find a job. He bragged so much about the benefits of living in Eden that he moved his family down here. If Geneva, the epitome of city girl, can adjust to Eden, maybe I just haven’t tried hard enough.

  “But we should still be in our honeymoon stage. Instead, we’re arguing every day.”

  “It takes time to get used to living with someone. Your little differences will work themselves out.”

  “This is more serious than leaving socks on the floor or leaving the toilet seat up. For one thing, he doesn’t think I should be working with you against the oil and gas companies. He doesn’t understand I’m just helping my family.”

  “Well, he is your family now. If he feels that way, you should have just stayed out of it. Raymond could have found another lawyer. I wish I had known this before we came up here.”

  “The lawsuit isn’t the only issue.”

  “Chubby, marriage is for better or worse. You just have to work through these things. Derrick is a good man. He’s smart, works hard, brings his money home, and doesn’t lay up with other women.”

  “Now you sound like Mama.”

  “You know she was generally right. As long as he doesn’t drink too much or put his hands on you, you can work it out.”

  That was the last thing I wanted to hear.

  CARL

  “That was a pretty good breakfast son,” C.W. said as he pushed his chair back from the table. “I never did learn to cook.”

  “They had the toughest, saltiest bacon and nastiest powdered eggs in the world at Cummins. When I first got there, I refused to eat it and just drank coffee for breakfast. But working in the field was strenuous so I forced myself to eat so I wouldn’t get light-headed. I vowed when I got out, that I would eat a good breakfast every day,” Carl said. Cummins was a working farm with sixteen thousand acres of cash crops like cotton, rice, and corn. Guards on mounted horses watched their every move. He felt like a slave with an overseer. He had grown up on a farm and couldn’t wait to leave. To end up on a prison farm was like being punished twice. After six months, someone found out he was a plumber and they assigned him to the building maintenance team. He had more freedom and the guards let him smoke and make calls on their cell phone.

  “Your mama believed in a good breakfast. Sometimes it’s still hard to believe she’s gone.”

  “Fifty years is a long time. People don’t hardly even get married anymore, let alone stay together fifty years. What was the secret?”

  “No secret, like everything else in life, it took commitment and hard work. To be successful in anything from losing weight to playing basketball, you got to be committed to it and you got to work hard.”

  “I guess I worked hard and was committed to having a lot of women. I respected you, but thought your life was really lame. Now I see you had the best.”

  “There were times I wanted to leave and times she wanted me to leave, but I guess those times never happened at the same time. I was living back and forth between here and Detroit, and Lois and I had been courting off and on. I was getting ready to go back when Aunt Belle told me I was making a big mistake and that Lois was a keeper. She told me Earle Weaver was sniffing around and if I didn’t step up she might not be there the next time I called.”

  “You mean Mr. Weaver that owned the cleaners could have been my daddy?”

  “No. I wasn’t hardly going to let that happen. The only thing that was going to keep Lois from me was death. We had a good life,” C.W. said as he turned his head.

  “I admire the way you’ve kept going. I know it hasn’t been easy.”

  “I just remember she’s in a better place. I’m glad you got to spend time with her before she passed. Maybe that’s why you couldn’t really find a job before then. She took it hard when Charles died. Then Brenda and the grandkids moved away. Nothing I said or did cheered her up. Then you came home and she was her old self. The man upstairs wanted Lois to have that time with you. I know it’s all part of a master plan, but I don’t think I could have stayed here without your mama and without Charles next door, if you hadn’t been here.”

  “I felt bad being a grown man and having to live with my parents. It’s good to know you didn’t mind me being here. I remember you always said we had eighteen years to get out of your house.”

  “That was just to get you motivated to learn to take care of yourself. You know you always have a home here if you need it.”

  “I had planned on being gone by now. Hopefully something will come up before you get married. I don’t want to cramp the newlywed’s style.”

  “Don’t worry about it. This house was home to nine pe
ople at one time. It can handle three. I’m going to meet Carolyn at the attorney’s office,” C.W. said, as he stood. “They want me to sign some papers. This drilling mess is starting to wear on me. I was hoping you’d consider what I suggested to you about working here, but maybe I should just sell out. Take the money like everybody else, and get a house uptown, or move into Emma’s house.”

  “It’s your decision, Dad. Don’t let those big companies bully you, but don’t let Raymond pressure you either.”

  “I won’t. You’ve got company,” C.W. said as he raised the shade in the front room.

  “Who is it?”

  “I don’t know. Someone in a gray GMC.” C.W. stepped on the porch and waved. “Good to see you. Go on in the house.”

  “Daddy, who do we know with a gray---” Carl said as he entered the living room, pulling a t-shirt over his head. “Oh, hello, Portia.”

  “Not exactly the greeting I was looking for,” she said as she entered the house.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. You just caught me off guard.”

  “That’s the only way I was going to catch you. You haven’t returned any of my calls or texts.”

  “I’ve been a little busy.”

  “Oh. I heard you were taking people to Memphis. I was hoping you’d have time to take me to work next week. I can get a ride home. My car is in the shop. They promised me it would be ready today, but they had to order some part. I drove Daddy’s truck last week, but he has doctor’s appointments next week and needs it.”

  “No problem. I can take you,” Carl said.

  “I’ll pay you and buy the gas.”

  “I know I don’t have a big office job like you, but you don’t have to pay me. I wouldn’t say I would do it, if I couldn’t pay for it.”

  “I didn’t say anything about a job. That never concerned me. I knew you were too smart not to land something else.”

  “Smart doesn’t seem to matter when you have a record.”

  “So is that why you stopped calling?”

  “To be honest, yes. What do I look like, can’t even keep a job flipping burgers trying to talk to you who just got a promotion?”

  “Your job wasn’t important to me.”

  “You say that now, but I know how this movie ends. I figured we could skip all that drama.”

  “So all that stuff about not wanting to be tied down wasn’t true?”

  “Let’s not rehash all of that,” Carl said.

  “You’re right. But it would have been nice to know the real reason. I was depressed for weeks thinking that you felt like being with me was being tied down. But if you let the Burger Barn dictate your life, then you’re not the man I thought you were.”

  “It’s easy for you to be judgmental; you didn’t fill out hundreds of applications. You don’t know what it’s like for people to dismiss you without even giving you a chance or to need your father to get you a job.”

  “It seemed to work for Donald Trump and Ted Turner, but you’re right, no need in rehashing all that now. But as a friend, you say that you can give me a ride on Monday?”

  “Sure. And to make you feel better, you can pay.”

  Portia walked toward the front door. “Thanks again,” she said. “I’ll see you Monday.”

  Carl stood on the porch and watched her get in the truck and drive off. He lit a cigarette, but quickly put it out when he saw his father coming up the driveway. “I forgot my Seed and Feed coupon,” C.W. said as he stepped out of the truck. “Since I’ll be uptown, figured I’d run a couple errands. I saw Portia Ann pass me up the road. That was a quick visit.”

  “She just stopped by to ask for a ride next week.”

  C.W. shook his head as he walked in the house. “You may have had a lot of girlfriends, but you don’t know much about women. That girl ain’t come all the way over here for no ride.”

  “What do you mean?” Carl asked.

  “You can figure it out. I’ll just tell you like Aunt Belle told me about your mama. She’s a keeper. And one more thing, you need to quit smoking.”

  Carl knew his father was right. He thought about Portia all the time, and had even deleted her number so he wouldn’t be tempted to call her. But all he had was bills and problems. He didn’t even have his own place. He didn’t lack female company, but with her it was different, and he didn’t want to be the man she settled for.

  CECELIA

  Cecelia had spent her day getting ready for Gabriel. His father was making progress, but Gabriel hadn’t wanted to leave Florida until he was sure his parents could make it on their own. His instructors were flexible and he had kept up with his classes online. He was returning to Chicago to do an oral presentation and he would arrive in the morning. Since moving to her apartment a few weeks ago, she had lived among boxes and suitcases. Most of her things were in storage, and the apartment was filled primarily with things Carolyn hadn’t taken to Arkansas. Gabriel’s visit was incentive for her to clean and personalize the apartment. This morning she put up new curtains and arranged her pictures on the wall. For once, she was going to take both of her off days. She was looking forward to his return like a teen girl waiting for prom. She had missed Gabriel. She wouldn’t call it love, but she felt a strong like. She had one last errand on her list, making a quick stop at the storage unit on her way to work. She planned to wait and get her things out of storage at the end of the month, but she wanted to get her good china for Gabriel’s visit. The china set was the only thing she had taken after her mother died, and this dinner with Gabriel would be the first time she used it.

  Cecelia pulled in front of her storage unit and left her car running while she hopped out. Her fingers got cold as she fumbled with the lock. The calendar said spring, but Chicago weather made its own rules. She rubbed her hands together, then got back in her car and drove around to the office. The clerk was on the phone and finally opened the partition when Cecelia switched from polite taps to hard knocks.

  “Something is wrong with the lock. My key keeps getting stuck,” Cecelia said as she handed her key and identification to the clerk.

  The clerk took her license and went to the back room. “Miss Brown, you have a past due balance,” she announced when she returned.

  “I know. I have it right here,” Cecelia said as she counted out two hundred dollars. “That should get me almost current. I’ll pay the balance next week. Now can you see about my key?”

  The clerk disappeared to the back room again. Cecelia glanced at her watch then tapped on the glass partition. “Excuse me. I’m in a hurry. What’s taking so long?”

  The clerk reappeared and seemed to be walking even slower. “Your contract was terminated and the unit has been re-rented.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means your unit was classified as abandoned due to nonpayment.”

  “But I just paid you.”

  “I know, but the deadline was two weeks ago. Actually you were forty-five days past due.”

  “Okay, I’m current now. Can you see about my key?”

  “That key has been de-activated and the unit released,” the clerk said.

  “So where is my stuff?”

  “We have a vendor that we sell abandoned contents to and they haul it away.”

  “Wait a minute, are you telling me my things aren’t here? ”

  “We sent several notices to the address we had on file.”

  “I moved, but you had my phone number. You always manage to contact me when money is due. So where are my things?”

  “As I said, we have a company that buys contents from abandoned units.”

  “I didn’t abandon my unit. What is this company’s number? I need to contact them. The things I want will be of no value to anyone else. They can’t make any money off of them. What is their number?”

  “I’ll have to go look it up,” the clerk said as she went to the back room again. After what seemed like an eternity, the clerk returned.

  “I called my ma
nager. He said we can’t give out that information, but I can tell you that stuff is probably gone. We auction off the whole unit and they take what they want. Whatever they leave we give to Goodwill, then we have a company go in and clean out the unit.”

  “This is absurd. You can’t just auction off a person’s stuff. This isn’t some reality show. My children’s baby pictures and my mother’s dishes were in there.”

  “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do.”

  “Then give me my money back.”

  “I can’t do that either.”

  “You can’t keep my money and sell my stuff. I need to speak to your manager.”

  “I’m the only one here.”

  “Then give me a number. This is ridiculous.”

  The clerk disappeared to the back room. She returned five minutes later and said, “I called the office and they said it’s in the contract.”

  “I don’t give a damn about a contract. Why am I talking to you? Give me your manager’s number.”

  “You can call our 1-800 customer service number.”

  “I don’t want to talk to a machine. You can’t do this,” Cecelia yelled, then turned around to see a security guard coming in the door.

  “We’re going to have to ask you to leave, Ma’am,” he said as he grabbed her elbow.

  “Do not touch me. I am not some illiterate vagrant. I will leave on my own. But you haven’t seen the last of me. What you have done is illegal and I will sue,” Cecelia said as she walked out and slammed the door. She got in her car, turned the ignition, then broke down in tears. How could this be happening? She had enough designer clothes in the unit to start her own boutique, but she was most upset about her personal things. She had tons of pictures and home movie film she had planned to convert to digital files. And her mother’s china – the only material item she had left, was gone.