The Curing Season

by Leslie Wells

  Joshua is excited about a trip to the creek, not understanding that we aren’t going here to play today. I let him think he’s going for fun because he runs along more quickly that way. When we reach the dry creekbed, I take the mangled wax from my pocket and throw it into the bushes. Then we sit on the bank for a moment so I can catch my breath. I pull Joshua close to me so I can feel his beating heart. As I hold him, determination courses through me. I will not let Aaron hurt my child.

  After a few minutes I nudge Joshua off my lap, stand, and indicate that we’re going farther. Joshua’s eyes widen.

  —Where goin, Mama?

  I point up the far bank and into the woods. Joshua jumps up and exclaims,

  —We goin to the big field? Get some more locusts? Maybe Tyree and Yvonne be there!

  I nod and try to show him that we are going even farther than the field, but he is now chattering about seeing Tyree.

  —We gonna see them, Mama?

  I nod yes, and he grabs my skirt and swings it in excitement. We continue on the path until it becomes overgrown with brambles. We are heading down a steep hill. I have no idea which way Nita’s cabin is. I assume if it’s called the Bottoms it will be at the bottom of this hill, but I don’t know in which direction.

  It has grown very hot, and Joshua is asking for water. Horseflies plague us, and he stops to swat at them futilely. I indicate that we must keep walking, and we head down the slope again. My foot is aching from walking on uneven ground, and my throat feels as if I have caught a bad fever. Every time I think of last night, I flush with shame.

  Finally we reach what seems to be the bottom of the ravine. The ground levels off and is very swampy. I can see what looks to be a clearing up ahead through the thick brush. We push on through and come out into a muddy field with several cabins built close together. I look for the big hickory tree that Nita described, then I see it at the far edge of the clearing. I point to it, and Joshua, whining now about the heat and his thirst, follows me through the mud. It is very hard going with my leg, and halfway across the field Joshua sinks to the ground and I have to carry him.

  Faces appear at some of the open doors as we pass the cabins, but no one offers to help me. It occurs to me that I am not welcome here, that none of these people know me. I try to hurry, but it is slow going. Mosquitoes buzz around us in the fetid heat, and Joshua cries out as he is bit. I try to swing my arm at them, but it is too hard to do so while holding him. With the last bit of my strength I manage to get him to the hickory tree, then I put him down and show him that we are going to the cabin directly behind it.

  I limp up to the door, which is open, and peer inside. Yvonne and Tyree are playing hopscotch on the swept dirt floor. The children open their mouths in a scream when they first glimpse me, but then they recognize us and smile.

  Yvonne goes running into the other room, and out comes Nita. She is surprised to see me here, but she quickly beckons us in out of the sun and gets us a dipper of water to drink. Joshua gulps down the whole dipper and asks for more, which she brings. He wipes his mouth on his arm and joins the children in their game. Then I drink, the cool water soothing my mouth like a miracle. Once I am done drinking, Nita indicates for me to sit on a rag rug on the floor. She settles opposite me.

  —So you finally decided to leave him, she says slowly. She reaches out and pats my arm. —Are you all right?

  —I have to tell you something, I say, trying to gauge my voice low so Joshua won’t hear me.

  Nita begins to speak, but she is talking so quickly I cannot tell what she is saying. I have no time to waste. I have to get back home before Aaron discovers that I’ve been away half the day. I have no idea where he is, and no idea when he will come back. I stick my finger into my ear and dig. Nita looks at me curiously.

  —Gnat in your ear? she asks sympathetically. —Want me to look?

  I shake my head, digging harder, pain shooting into my jaw. Finally a bloody brown kernel comes out in my hand. She stares at it. I push my finger into my other ear, and a ringing starts. With the ringing is a dizzying ache. I poke deeper, and the other one pops out onto the dirt floor. Nita looks at it in horror.

  There is a swooshing in one ear, a ringing in the other. In the closeness of the hot cabin and with the eerie noises and pain, I feel as if I might faint. I shake my head to try to clear the sound away, but the motion makes it swoop and expand. She is now standing near me in concern, but I motion for her to sit again and let me be still for a few minutes. Gradually the noises quieten. I cannot hear at all out of my left ear, but I can hear out of the right one, the one that Joshua knocked the plug out of at the meeting.

  —What were them things in your ears? Nita asks, her eyes wide.

  —He put them there, I say. —He melted candles into my ears. —wasn’t supposed to talk, and I couldn’t hear with the wax plugs. He did it to me out of meanness. A whole year, I couldn’t talk or hear.

  Joshua sees me talking. He stops playing and runs over.

  —Mama! You talked! he cries, watching me expectantly.

  Hearing my son’s voice again is like a wave breaking over me. I listen to its echo in my head for a while, trying to memorize it.

  —Hello, sweetheart, I say. He comes over to sit next to me, staring. I put my arm around him.

  —I have something — tell Nita now. Honey, play some. Talk to you on the way home, promise.

  Reluctantly he rejoins Yvonne and Tyree in their noisy game. Nita’s intake of breath sets off more swooshing in my ears.

  —You done put up with enough of that, chile, she says, again patting my arm. —You made the right decision to cut loose a’ him.

  —I have something —tell you. He and these men—they meet every month. They’re planning to set fire to your houses. All of you. I found out—by accident the other night. You have to get away.

  I am gasping in the close air of the cabin. It strains my breath to say so much.

  Nita sits back. She looks at me for a long time. —And you came here to tell me this? she asks.

  I nod. —They’re coming Saturday night, eleven. They’ll burn you alive if they can. You have to get out. All of you.

  Nita sits thinking for a moment. —Let me go get a few peoples. John’s away workin, but I want some other folks to hear you. You can tell them what you just told me. Chirren, go on out and play awhile. Show Joshua how you can do skin the cat on that old hickory tree.

  The children scramble outside, and she leaves the cabin. I sit in the airless room, sweat dripping down my back and neck. If I hold my head very still, I can make the swooshing stop for a while. When I breathe, it seems I can hear every intake of air. My stomach gurgles, and I hear that. I can hear the children playing in the back. Birds sing out in the sun, then stop. At one point everything is quiet, and I fear my hearing has gone again, but then a cicada starts its drone. I never heard such a good sound in my entire life.

  I decide that I am not going to put these things back into my ears ever again, no matter what.

  Nita comes back with two men and a heavy older woman with her head tied up in a red-and-white-checkered bandanna. They stand in front of me, arms folded. The woman speaks.

  —You sayin your man and others are gonna burn us down this Saturday evenin? she says, as if it were an accusation.

  —I just found out. Last night. He belongs to a group that meets. I heard them planning it; you have to get away.

  The older of the two men looks at me suspiciously. —Why you tellin us this? he says. —Why should we believe you? You white yourself, it appears to me.

  —More water? I ask Nita. My mouth is horribly dry, my tongue cleaving to its roof. She brings me another full dipper and I drink.

  —I’m going to get away from him too. He plans —hurt my boy. He hurt me, bad, several years. But I’m not going to let him hurt my son. I don’t know when or how—I’m going to leave as soon as I can.

  The younger man spits in the dust. —You got proof of these plans?r />
  —I saw a piece of paper, notes from one of his meetings. When the men came to our house, I heard them talking. They want to burn you all.

  —Aint no end to white folkses’ devilment if they got their minds set on it, the older woman says. She heaves a sigh. —I aint takin any chances. I’ma go clear out and stay with my Aunt Clarisse down by Clearwater.

  —I think we should stay and fight, says the younger man. —Why should we just let ’em burn down our homes? And then we got to uproot and look for work again?

  —We try to fight, we’ll wind up in jail ourselves, says the older man. —You know how that be. Come to the law, nothin the white man do is wrong. It all be on our backs.

  —What if we went to the sheriff? the younger man says. —That new man they got in there seems better than a lotta those good ole boys. He just gonna ignore us?

  —Boy, you aint lived long enough, have you? He laugh you out of his office, then come by the next mawnin tell you he’s sorry your house caught on fire, says the woman.

  Nita heaves a sigh. —I aint one for runnin, but this time I think we’d best clear out. I can’t see anything good comin out of this. I got two chirren to see after. I can’t take no chances. Seems to me, one place about as bad as the other. I was gettin tired of this old skeeter-infested swamp. Seems like now’s the time for us to make a move to where my cousin live, down to Dry Fork. One thing I do know, this lady’s tellin us the truth. I can vouch for that. I know her.

  —Where you gonna go? the older woman asks me. —You want to just stay here with us until we leave?

  —I have to go back to the house so he doesn’t suspect anything. I don’t have any money with me—haven’t had time to think about where I’m going to go.

  —You got family you can go to? she asks.

  —Not right now. Too afraid he’d find me. My mama’s farm would be the first place he’d look.

  The older man looks at me, considering. —California supposed to be a good place for people got nowhere to go, he says finally. —Bein white, nobody would bother you on the train.

  I think about it. —He keeps a little money hidden for liquor. Not much. I doubt it would even pay for my ticket.

  —Tell you what, honey, the older woman says. —Whatever you can beg, borrow, or steal, you do it. You go on and protect your boy.

  Numbly, I nod. Maybe Aaron will go off on a drinking spell, and I can slip away with Joshua before he knows the difference. Maybe if I could get to North Carolina or West Virginia, and make do until some time goes by, then I could come back to live with Mother. Maybe if I waited awhile, he’d go to Mother’s farm, see we weren’t there, then give up and never come back.

  I turn to go. —Whatever you all do, be careful. These are dangerous people. You won’t be able to reason with them.

  The older woman laughs. —Honey, reasonin aint even been thought of. It’s fight ’em or run, far as I can see.

  Nita touches my arm. —Are you gonna be all right? she asks. —You could stay here with me til we can all get out of here.

  I think about it for a moment. If Aaron caught me with Nita, it would be even worse for me and Joshua than if he caught us running off alone. And it would be much worse for Nita and her people.

  —I’ll figure something out, I reply. —I have to.

  —Lawd be with you, Nita says, her eyes wet with tears.

  • • •

  Joshua and I walk all the way back to the house. The heat and horseflies are torturous, but I barely feel their stings. Joshua pelts me with questions about why I can now talk, but I decide to act as if I can’t respond. If he talks to me when Aaron is in the room, he may become suspicious, and then it will all be over. It hurts me to do it, but I pretend that I can’t hear Joshua. I grunt and hum the way I’ve always done, and eventually he grows silent. If I can just keep things the way they were until we get away, then no one will ever be able to keep me from talking to him again.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  For two days now I have watched Aaron like a hawk, hoping for some clue as to when he might be gone from the house for more than half a day. Often if he’s not back by early afternoon, that means he won’t return until late at night because he’s found something to drink. I figure I’ll need at least three hours to walk with Joshua to the train station, situated as far out of town as it is.

  Yesterday I searched and searched until I found Aaron’s hidden money, wadded up in a filthy handkerchief in a chink in the fireplace in our bedroom. I picked up the poker, still lying in its bed of ashes, and prized it out. He has saved almost four dollars, enough for us to get out of the state, at least over the North Carolina line, I imagine. Then I’ll just have to pray no one sees us on the train or tells Aaron where we have gone to, if he thinks to ask after us there.

  My hearing has become a little better since I removed the wax plugs at Nita’s. I still cannot hear much out of my left ear, and the swooshing sounds come and go, but I seem to be hearing more out of my right ear now. Sometimes the sounds startle me, like the noises Joshua makes when he is playing. It is wonderful to be able to hear my son, even if I cannot respond to him yet. But soon I will, soon.

  Aaron has not asked about the earplugs I threw away; those meant for Joshua. Perhaps he was so drunk he has forgotten about them. I know that he can easily make more, so I take care to keep Joshua as far away from Aaron as possible so that nothing sets him off until we can leave.

  Today Aaron awakens unusually early for him, and I have to scramble to get Joshua out of the house before he comes downstairs. Joshua whines because he is playing with some creek pebbles on the floor and does not want to go outside at that moment. Finally I lift him up and set him outside by the step, indicating that he isn’t to come back indoors until Aaron has left the house.

  Aaron’s face is a ghastly yellowish hue when he descends to the kitchen. He pokes at the frybread I’ve got ready in the pan and covers the pot back up gingerly. I sense that he has another massive, roiling headache from drinking and is unable to eat, as he is many mornings. I watch out of the corner of my eye as he tries to lift his cup of chicory that I have poured for him. His hands shake too much for him to be able to hold the cup, and he sets it down on the table quickly, sloshing the coffee over the rim. His eyes are bloodshot, and it looks as if he has a cut or bruise high up on one cheekbone. Worse for the wear, I tell myself.

  At times I look at him and cannot believe I once thought him attractive or that he was a person of any qualities whatsoever. He catches me watching him, grimaces, starts to speak, then holds his head in his hands. I resist the impulse to clatter the dishes in the sink, to make his head ache more. In this weakened state he will not hit me, but I might pay for it later, as well I know. So I just stand there quietly as if I am looking out the window, and shortly I hear him get up and go outside. I watch the back of him walking across the yard and out to the dirt road. The morning sun seems to glow with a promise, and I think, Maybe this will be the day we will get away.

  I do the dishes, then go outside to join Joshua. If Aaron is not back by early afternoon, I will start walking down the road with Joshua and see what happens. Maybe we will make it to the train station by nightfall without his noticing we are gone. My mind races, imagining our progress down the road. Perhaps we will take the route through the woods and stop at the Bottoms to see if anyone there is going in that direction today, although a white woman and child riding with a Negro would be sure to attract notice. Perhaps we will see a farmer with a wagon who will give us a ride, making the distance into no obstacle at all.

  If only that had been the case, things would have turned out so differently.

  I make two secret bundles under Joshua’s pallet, two changes of clothes for us both. I pace the yard all morning, watching Joshua play.

  I am about to bring him inside to feed him at midday when Nita comes around the corner of the house. My mouth drops open in surprise. Somehow seeing her here instead of our usual meeting place aston
ishes me, even though this is the second time it has happened. She smiles wide.

  —We fixin to leave, but I wanted to see you one more time. I saw your man goin up the road earlier. I’ve got something for you. We took up a collection, see—

  She hands me a packet of brown paper. I can feel coins through it, and some bills. I put it into my apron pocket.

  —Oh, thank you, I breathe, quietly so Joshua won’t hear. —You didn’t have to do that.

  —We all wanted to. We wanted to thank you for tellin us. Now we’re gonna have a chance to get away. There’s an address in with the money, somebody who’s helped our peoples before, if you can make it that far. When are you goin? she asks, frowning.

  I shake my head. —Soon. I have to wait until I think he’s going to stay gone at least half a day. I figure that’s how long it’ll take me to get to the train. I may even try to get out of here today if he stays away a little while longer.

  —Whyn’t you hook up with us tonight? Nita asks, mopping her brow with a rag she pulls from her bosom. —We leavin for Dry Fork soon as the sun sets, a bunch of us. We could give you a ride as far as the train. It’s in the direction we’re goin. We figure nobody’ll much notice us in the dark.

  I start to speak, but then out of the corner of my eye I see Aaron standing at the edge of the yard, arms crossed, looking at me hard. I start, and think, How long has he been here? When he sees me see him he begins moving, and I mutter to Nita,

  —Go on, go home. Get away quick. It’ll go better for me if you’re gone. I’ll try to come tonight if I can at all.

  —You sure? Nita asks, watching over my shoulder as he approaches.

  —Sure. Go.

  She looks into my eyes and turns to leave. As I watch her cross the road, I am swung around hard by a heavy hand on my shoulder.