by Daniel Black
“Yeah, you worked a little bit,” he conceded, “but what you did most was read and write or whatever you liked.”
“Hell, yeah! That was the only way to survive this madness!”
“You right. Yet when you was readin’ or whatever, I was in the field. Day or night.”
“Why didn’t you do something you liked? At least every now and then?”
“’Cause I ain’t neva knowed what I liked. I wasn’t great at school, but I didn’t know nothin’ else to try. I jes’ kept workin’ ‘cause wasn’t nothin’ else for me to do. At least that’s what I thought back then. Now I’m too old to do anything else.”
“Why?” I grilled him with too much emphasis.
“’Cause I done fixed my mind to believe I can’t do nothin’ but farm. I mean, I believe I probably could do somethin’, but come on, I done settled into dis damn place, and I ain’t goin’ nowhere. I know dat.”
“Sounds like you don’t want to go anywhere. And that’s fine,” I portended insultingly.
“Dat ain’t what I’m sayin’, T.L. What I’m sayin’ is dat I always wanted to leave, I jes’ didn’t have nothin’ to take wit’ me. I couldn’t sing, dance, write, or nothin’ else, so I had to stay in order to eat.”
“You could have learned a trade, Willie James, and done well for yourself. You might have had to struggle for a moment, but you would have made it. Most people do.”
“And some don’t,” he said emphatically. “Dat’s what scared me. Ain’t no way I was gon’ leave here and not make it and have to come back. I would be too ashamed and I would feel like nothin’. I’d die befo’ I let Daddy stare me in de face’cause I failed. He’d really treat me like shit then.”
“Sometimes you have to take a chance, man, if you want something badly enough,” I said, struggling strenuously to inspire him.
“It ain’t dat bad here,” Willie James defended himself, avoiding my attempt to make him see otherwise. He demolished the anthill with a stick. “A man can make a livin’ anywhere, huh?”
“Some can. And some have to go somewhere else to make theirs.”
“You right, li’l brother. You right.”
We sat in silence for a while, watching the ants reestablish their community. Truth be known, they simply averted our eyes from each other.
“Sister was pregnant with a boy.”
“How you know?” I asked coolly, trying not to rush Willie James’s willingness.
“’Cause dat’s what she told me. She said you was comin’ back to her one way or another and maybe God was sendin’ you back through her li’l baby boy. I asked her how she know it was a boy and she said she could feel it.”
“My God.”
“Yep, she was gon’ give birth to a li’l baby boy.”
Willie James paused awkwardly and continued investigating the ants for anwers he could not find.
“What happened to the baby, Willie James?” I pressed softly.
“I don’t know exactly. Like I tole you de other day, I came home from de field one day and saw the fresh mound o’ dirt and wondered what it was. I asked Momma about it when I went in de house and she said, ‘Yo’ sista died today; we buried her today.’ She started cryin.’ I said, ‘What?’ And she said, ‘You heard me, boy! Now I got enough on me!’ I went outside and stood over the grave and started cryin’ a li’l bit myself. I was real sad, T.L. I was confused, too, but I didn’t wanna make Momma mo’ upset by askin’ her mo’ questions. I stayed by de grave and stared in de sky all night long. I neva got sleepy and I neva said nothin’ to nobody’bout it. I stared in de sky talkin’ to God till de sun come up de next mornin’.
“When I went in de house fu’ breakfast, Momma and Daddy was actin’ real funny. I didn’t say nothin’ to neither one o’ dem, but I could tell dat somethin’ wasn’t right. Befo’ Daddy left, he said, ‘Keep yo’ mouf shet, boy,’ and went on his way. As scared as I was, dey didn’t have to worry’bout me sayin’ nothin’. I did wanna know what happened, though. I jes’ decided to keep my eyes and ears open extra hard in case I saw or heard somethin’ suspicious.
“When I came home fu’ lunch dat day, wasn’t nobody home. That was strange’cause you know Momma don’t neva go nowhere. I ain’t think much of it till I see her through de kitchen window walkin’ through de field like she comin’ from back in de woods. She was walkin’ kinda fast, you know, kinda nervous-like, so I went out de front do’ as she was comin’ in de back. She neva knowed I was there’cause I didn’t eat nothin’.”
“Where was she coming from?” I frowned, both interested and confused.
“I’m’bout to tell you dat, man, but you can’t say a word to nobody.” Willie James awaited my confirmation of secrecy. I nodded.
“When I left out de front, I snuck back into de woods where it looked like she was comin’ from. I glanced around fu’ a while and didn’t see nothin’. Then I noticed one o’ Daddy’s cows sniffin’ somethin’ over by de back fence. I walked over to look and see what de cow was looking at and dat’s when I saw de li’l dead baby. It was blue and red and had dried blood all over it. I knowed it was dead’cause it looked dead. It was real little! I coulda held it in one hand easy. It wasn’t wrapped in nothin’. It was jes’ layin’ on de ground like somebody throwed it out. I was scared ‘cause I ain’t neva seen nothin’ like dat befo’. I bent down and turned it over with a stick and de baby looked like it was smilin’. I dropped de stick and ran like ninety goin’ north. I wanted to go tell somebody, but I didn’t know who. It was all so crazy dat I thought folks might think I was losin’ it. I jes’ ran until I got tired and fell out by de creek behind de woods. I was shakin’ like a leaf, man, and cryin’’cause I didn’t know what else to do. I knowed Momma had somethin’ to do wit’ it, but I couldn’t put nothin’ together dat made sense. After I calmed down a li’l bit, I decided to go back and bury de li’l baby. I knowed it was Sista’s. It couldn’t o’ been nobody else’s. But when I got back, de baby was gone.”
“What? Are you serious?” I said in total disbelief.
“Yep. It was gone. I looked all around de place where I had saw it, but it was gone. I don’t know if Momma came back and got it or if a wild fox or somethin’ took it off and ate it or what, but it was gone sho’’nuff.”
“Willie James! You have to be lyin’!”
“Naw I ain’t. You de onlyest somebody I done told dis to; now don’t say nothin’ to nobody’bout it.”
“I won’t, Willie James, but this is unreal! You sure you saw a baby?”
“Hell yeah, I’m sure!” Willie James screamed. “I ain’t stupid. I know a baby when I see one. And it was a boy, too. When I turned it ova, I saw dat. Sista was right, I said to myself. But I couldn’t figure out why somebody had thowed him away.”
“Man, I must be going utterly insane!” I said as I rose and paced the earth.
“Nope, ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. Now, don’t go gettin’ yo’self all worked up’cause then you been done said somethin’ to somebody and I’ll be in a heap o’ trouble. Sit down and be cool.”
“Be cool? Willie James, this is murder we talkin’’bout!”
“No, it ain’t. We don’t know what happened to dat baby. I don’t know how it got in dem woods. Since I saw Momma comin’ from dat direction, I thought she probably had somethin’ to do wit’ it. And she probably did, but I don’t know what. We can’t start accusin’ folks’cause we ain’t got no proof o’ nothin’. There ain’t even no baby no mo’.”
I resumed my seat on the ground next to Willie James, shaking my head in dismay. “Man, we have to do something! We have to! We can’t know about this and go on like we don’t!”
“Yes, we can, and dat’s exactly what we gon’ do.’Cause, like I said, we don’t really know nothin’. I mean, I know what I saw and all, but I can’t prove it to nobody.”
“Oh, Willie James, please! You know Momma did somethin’ to dat baby!” I yelped, sitting only inches away from him.
“Maybe she
did!” he hollered back. “But can’t neither one o’ us prove it. Dat’s why we gon’ let it be. Now I feel bad about it jes’ like you. Believe me I do. But I done thought ‘bout dis fu’ years now and I ain’t come up wit’ no way to tell nobody nothin’ and make’em believe me. We gon’ keep dis li’l secret between us and dat gon’ be dat.”
“How can you do that, Willie James?” I gazed at my brother ruefully.
“Do what?”
“Know this information and never say anything about it.”
“It ain’t hard. You jes’ learn to keep yo’ mouth shut. Everythang ain’t s’pose’ to be told noway.”
“Some things are supposed to be known!”
“Depends on what it is. A man got to decide what he gon’ tell and what he gon’ keep. Dis somethin’ we both gon’ keep.”
Willie James stared deep into my eyes to ratify our unspoken agreement.
“OK, OK. I won’t say anything. It’s not right, though, Willie James. It doesn’t make sense not to tell the authorities.”
“And who the authorities round here? You know de police in town don’t care nothin’’bout no dead nigga baby!” He swung his arm at an invisible foe. “Ain’t no need in even wastin’ yo’ time wit’ dem. I thought about tellin’ Daddy’bout de baby, but you know he know. He know everythang round here. I jes decided to keep it to myself like you gon’ do.”
Anger, disbelief, and rage battled to control my heart and mind, and none of them would relent.
“Really?”
“It’s de first thing I noticed when I turned him over. The mole jumped out at me like de monsters in dem scary movies.”
“Willie James, come on now! Are you sure you weren’t imagining things?”
“Oh, I’m nutty now? I’m tellin’ you! He had a mole right on the left side o’ his nose. It reminded me of you.”
“Momma wins again,” I mumbled despondently.
“What’s dat suppose to mean?”
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it. My own issues, I suppose.”
“Maybe I shouldn’ta told you,” Willie James suggested sadly.
“Oh no! I wanted to know. You know that. Anything about Sister, please tell me. Don’t hesitate.”
“Well, dat’s’bout all I know.” He folded his lips conclusively. “Except one thing.”
“What?”
“T.L., you might be better off not knowin’.”
“Man, tell me. Can’t nothin’ shock me at this point.”
“OK, but remember our promise. You can’t say nothin’ to nobody.”
“All right, all right. Tell me!”
Willie James bit his bottom lip, weighing the extent to which he could trust me. “After de day I saw de baby in de woods”—his mouth trembled as he circumvented his better judgment—“I was burning de trash and started smellin’ somethin’ really foul. I didn’t pay much attention to it at first, but then it started smellin’ like …”
“Like what?”
“Like flesh cookin’. Or somethin’. I took a stick and started fumblin’ through de burnin’ trash, tryin’ to find out what was smellin’ like dat. All of a sudden, Momma said, ‘What chu lookin’ fu’?’ I coulda shitted in my pants ‘cause I didn’t see her walk up on me. She was lookin’ a little funny, like she thought I knowed something. I said, ‘Nothin’. I was stirrin’ up de fire, makin’ sure everythang burn good. Dat’s all.’ he said, ‘Well, you go’head and feed de cows and I’ll finish stirrin’ de fire.’ I didn’t want to do dat ‘cause then I wouldn’t be able to find out what was smellin’. I told Momma I could do both, but she insisted I go feed de cows. I walked away real suspicious, but I acted like everything was normal. I kept lookin’ back over my shoulder and she was lookin’ at me specially hard, like I better not come back over there. I went on into de barn and fed de cows like I usually do.”
“Did you check the trash barrel later?” I queried excitedly.
“Yeah, I did, de next day. But it was squeaky clean.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, it was clean as a baby’s bottom. Momma or somebody had emptied the ashes and washed the barrel out with soap and water.”
“Get outta here!”
“No lie. Dat old metal trash barrel was clean enough to eat off of. I gave up after dat. I knowed Momma was hidin’ somethin’, but she didn’t leave no clues behind. I jes’ left it alone after that.”
“Is she deranged, Willie James? Come on! What’s wrong with that woman?”
“I wish I knew, but I don’t.”
Willie James rubbed his hands together and glanced up at the sun. “I’d betta git dis tractor back home ‘fo’ Daddy be lookin’fu’ me. He know I should be finished by now. He ain’t neva been slow.” Willie James stood up, brushed off the bottom of his pants, and put his old straw hat back on.
“You wanna ride?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Sure,” I said and stood. “But let me ask you one more question, if you don’t mind.”
Willie James sighed but said, “Help yo’self.”
“Do you think Momma came back and got the baby?”
He twisted his mouth and scratched his forehead. “I don’t know,” he said cautiously.
“I know you don’t know, Willie James. I asked you if you thought she came back and got the baby.”
“If I say yes, dat mean she put de baby dere in de first place. She couldn’t come back and git it if she didn’t put it dere.”
“True,” I affirmed.
“I hope you don’t git us in no trouble, T.L. I done said a whole lot more than I shoulda said. I thought you should know’ause you and Sista was close.”
“Answer my question, Willie James.”
“OK,” he stalled, and then said very ardently, “yes. Yes. I think Momma came back and got it’cause I think she put it dere in de first place. Who else coulda done it? Huh? Who else?”
“You know I don’t know.”
“It was her. It had to be. But ain’t nothin’ we can do’bout it’cause we ain’t got no proof. I didn’t see Momma do nothin’’cept walk out o’ de woods. She could say she was doin’ anything back in dem woods and I couldn’t’spewt her word.”
“Will you take me back there?”
“Back where?” Willie James asked disquietedly.
“Where you saw de baby.”
“You don’t need me to go back dere. Jes’ walk back to de far left corner o’ de woods. You been dere befo’ without me.”
Willie James had no intention of going back there again. He clearly had come to terms with the dreadful experience, at least enough to live from day to day. But I needed him.
“I know, Willie James, but I need to know the exact spot, and you alone can show it to me. Please. This is important.”
“It’s always ‘bout what you need, ain’t it? I done told you way mo’ than I shoulda told you and still you ain’t satisfied. You always was selfish.”
“I’m not trying to be selfish, Willie James. I need you to help me out. I don’t have anybody else.”
“What if Momma or Daddy see us goin’ back in de woods together, huh? You think dey ain’t gon’ know somethin’s up?”
“They don’t have to know. We can go when they ain’t around or when they ain’t lookin’.”
“And when is that?” Willie James scowled.
“I don’t know. We can figure that out. There’s got to be some kinda way to get back there without them knowing.”
“I’ll tell you what, you figure dat out and maybe, jes’ maybe, I’ll show you where I saw de baby. I ain’t makin’ no promises, though.”
“Fine. I’ll think of something. Bet on that.”
We climbed onto the tractor and headed home. It had been years since I rode it as a passenger, and it jerked my ass back and forth like an old washing machine spin cycle. Willie James laughed as I held on for dear life. Daddy had bought the tractor used when I was a boy, so it had to be damn near forty years old. “Shit!”
I shouted after Willie James hit a large rut in the road. “You tryin’ to kill me, man!”
He laughed louder and shook his head, reminiscent of bygone days. “You done fugot how ta ride a tractor, boy?” he mocked. I didn’t entertain his words. Instead, I prayed we would hurry and make it home because I awaited the comfort of solid ground.
“Remember dat time I drove dis ole thang to Lucretia Clemmons’s party?” Willie James hollered, smiling. The engine coughed loudly, making hearing practically impossible.
“Oh my God! I had forgotten about that! Can you believe you were fool enough to drive a tractor to a party? But you had to go. Nothing was going to keep you from it!”
“Yeah, Lucretia was my girl! She had an ass on her make any man stand up and do right! I was tryin’ to court her, but she was actin’ stuck-up.”
“No, she wasn’t! You were too scared to ask her out! You wouldn’t even speak to her. She would give you the eye all the time and you went on like you didn’t even see her!”
“What? Man, you lost yo’ mind! I tried to speak to dat girl, but she acted shy or some shit, so I stopped tryin’ to fuck wit’ her. Hell, I ain’t gon’ chase no bitch nowhere!”
“You were definitely chasing her the night of her party!” I was laughing violently and my shoulders were jerking vertically.
“I ain’t gon’ lie!” Willie James bellowed, turning the big tractor steering wheel toward the left at the fork in the road. “I was tryin’ to git me some pussy dat night. Shit! I knew I was gon’ git me some.”
“Folks said you were clean. That is, until they turned on the lights!” We both laughed uninhibitedly. “What possessed you to take Daddy’s advice and drive a tractor to a party?” My voice displayed my bewilderment.
“I don’t know, but I ain’t neva done it no mo’. I learned my lesson. After I kicked dat nigga’s ass fu’ callin’ me a dust ball, I said fuck it. Ain’t no bitch worth all dis energy.”
It was time for instigation. “Now what exactly happened, Willie James? I done forgot,” I giggled, hoping to incite but not patronize.
“You ain’t fugot nothin’, nigga! You know exactly what happened!”
“No, I don’t!” I roared. “All I remember is what other folks said.”