They Tell Me of a Home: A Novel (Tommy Lee Tyson)

by Daniel Black

  “You can judge me if you want to. I don’t care ‘cause I ain’t sorry fu’ nothin’. I might not eva git a chance to feel dat feelin’ again, and I ain’t gon’ let you take dat joy away from me. I ain’t had but one my whole life. Don’t I deserve at least one joy?”

  “Yes, Willie James,” I said, trying not to unleash my seething rage. “But your joy ain’t supposed to be at Sister’s expense.”

  “It wunnit at Sister’s expense. She brought de joy to me. I didn’t go to her. She came in my bed and asked me to hold her and as one thing led to another—”

  “Stop it! You know dat shit is sick!”

  “Why is it sick when somebody else do de same thang you did? Y’all laid in de bed and giggled for years as I laid there listenin’ to you, hopin’ dat, one day, I’d get invited to laugh along. That day neva came ‘cause you wuz so damn selfish. It neva crossed yo’ mind to include me in de fun.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? You were the oldest! It was your job to give love to the younger ones.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, T.L. You can’t give nothin’ you neva had. And tell de truth, you wunnit waited on me to bring you nothin’’cause you neva thought I had nothin’ to bring.”

  My silence confirmed his conclusion.

  “It’s all right’cause dat’s what everybody thought. But it ain’t true. I didn’t realize this till me and Sister created life.”

  “Willie James, you need help, man. This is abnormal and psychotic. It ain’t right.”

  “There you go again, judgin’ me.”

  “Willie James, this ain’t about me judging you! This is about you having sex with my sister!”

  “Dat’s why you mad, T.L.’cause, in your eyes, I had sex with your sister. Not our sister. She belonged to you, and you belonged to her. Dat’s why you came back here in de first place. To get your sister. You didn’t come back to see me or anybody else for dat matter.”

  We stood statuesque in the darkness of night, listening to the crickets sing an unknown song. “I’m sorry, Willie James, for not loving you the way I should have,” I offered genuinely. “I never knew the way you felt.”

  “Don’t worry’bout it. I’ll be a’ight. I jes’ thought you should know dat de baby Sister wuz carryin’ wuz mine, too. Dat’s why you came back. To find out ‘bout her. I wuz jes’ tellin’ you befo’ you leave tomorrow.”

  Willie James ignored my trauma and started walking again, moving like a stealth deer through the woods. I ran after him.

  “How did she die, Willie James?” I risked asking again. Since he was in truth mode, I tried to get all the information I could. He seemed not to have heard me, so I repeated myself, “How did she—”

  “I heard you, man,” he retorted abruptly. Then, without notice, he swiveled and yelled, “Momma did it!” and fell to the ground in agony.

  “Oh my God,” I whispered as I consoled him.

  “She did it, T.L. I saw her. I been lyin’ to you’cause Daddy told me he’d kill me if I eva told anybody.” Willie James was wailing. “I can’t hold it no mo’! You really wanna know what happened to Sister? Fine! I’ll tell you. All I got to lose is my life.”

  Ironically, I wanted him to pause a moment and think about what he was proposing to do, but I certainly wasn’t going to stop him.

  “Some o’ de stuff I told you, T.L., was a lie, but I’ma tell you de truth now.” Willie James sighed, “I came home for lunch from de field dat day and sat at de table eatin’. Momma was actin’ kinda nervous-like, but I didn’t really pay it much’tention. I asked her where Sister was, and she said she was in de back room layin’ down ‘cause she didn’t feel good. I told Momma I’d go check on her, but soon as I said it she snapped back at me wit’, ‘Don’t chu go in dere, boy. I said she wuz sick. Let de girl be.’ I frowned at Momma a li’l bit’cause she yelled at me way louder than she needed to. I didn’t go in de room. At least not then.”

  Willie James had recomposed himself enough to rise and sit on a nearby tree stump. I sat next to him, our sides touching from shoulder to ankle. He breathed heavily, comprehending fully the price of his confession, but he pressed on.

  “I finished my lunch and acted like I was goin’ back to de field, but, instead, I got down by de bend in de road and parked de tractor in de woods. Then I snuck back to de house. Momma was hangin’ up clothes, so I went round to Sister’s bedroom window and peeked in. She wunnit there.”

  “She wasn’t sick in the bed as Momma had said?” I queried, wild-eyed.

  “Nope. She wunnit nowhere in de room. I tried to figure out how to get in de house witout Momma seein’ me, but I knowed not to try it. I tiptoed round de house, lookin’ in every window, but I couldn’t find Sister. I gave up after a while and went back to get de tractor. When I put it in gear to drive off, somethin’ tole me to look in de barn. I cain’t really explain it, but I heard somethin’ in my head say”—Willie James lowered his voice to authenticate the one he had heard—“‘Look in de barn.’ So I turned de engine off again and walked through de backwoods to de barn. Dat’s where I firs’ seed de baby.” Willie James moaned in sorrow and desolation. “It was hid under some hay and blood was all round it. It scared me so bad I started shakin’ and didn’t know what to do. I still didn’t see Sister, but I knowed it was hu’ baby. It was a boy and he was dead. His arms was stretched out like he wanted somebody to pick him up and he was blue. De umbilical cord was still on him and he had scratches all over his little body. Tears started runnin’ down my face ‘cause I was scared to death. I kept askin’ myself what to do, but nothin’ came to me. Suddenly I heard Momma shoutin’ at somebody and dey was walkin’ toward de barn. I hid behind a coupla hay bales and lay still. Dat’s when I see Momma and Sister bust through de do’ fightin’.”

  “What?”

  “Dey was screamin’’cause Sister wanted hu’ baby and Momma tole hu’ she couldn’t have him. Blood was all ova Sister’s dress and she was real weak, but she was fightin’ wit’ everything she had. Momma was jes’ too powerful. She throwed Sister on de ground and tied hu’ hands behind hu’ back. Still, Sister wunnit givin’ up. She kicked Momma real hard in de chest and Momma fell back on de garden hoe, cuttin’ hu’ arm pretty bad. When Momma got up, she had a look on hu’ face, T.L., like I ain’t neva seen. She was breathin’ hard and cussin’ like drunk old men. Sister kept mumblin’,’I want my baby; I want my baby,’ and Momma kept sayin’, ‘Hell naw!’ Momma stood ova Sister’s bloody, weak body again and Sister spit in hu’ face. I knowed Momma was gon’ do somethin’ bad. Ain’t no way she was gon’ take dat. But what she did blowed my mind.”

  Willie James shook and rubbed his head simultaneously. I put my arm around his shoulder, hoping to comfort him. “Daddy’s gon’ kill me,” he muttered softly.

  “No, he’s not,” I assured him timidly. We both knew I couldn’t promise anything about Daddy’s actions.

  “T.L., please don’t tell nobody what I’m sayin’. This is gon’ make you madder than a wet hen, but you got to promise not to say nothin’. I’m tellin’ you, Daddy’ll kill me.”

  Afraid to enter such a covenant, I did so nonetheless. “I won’t tell a soul, Willie James. I promise.”

  He gazed into my eyes, searching for the truth of my words, and continued, “Momma took dat hoe and started choppin’ at Sister like she was uprootin’ weeds. Sister dodged her pretty good, but then Sister’s strength failed. Momma struck hu’ leg first. The blood squirted out like juice from a orange when you bite it too hard, and Sister hollered out in pain.”

  “Why didn’t you help her, Willie James?” I cried in confusion.

  “’Cause fear had me paralyzed. I tried to move, really I did, but my whole body was stiff like a stone. I couldn’t even scream. Everything wuz happenin’ so fast dat my brain couldn’t process it fast enough. I was cryin’ and shakin’, but I jes’ couldn’t move.” Willie James lamented loudly, “You woulda been proud o’ Sister, T.L. She was fightin’ like a wild wom
an and she jes’ had a baby. She grabbed the sharp end of the hoe and hu’ and Momma tussled in a frenzy till Momma got it ‘way from hu’ and started beatin’ hu’ wit’ it. Momma kept yellin’ stuff I couldn’t make out ‘cept de line, ‘You ain’t bringin’ dat boy back here! I swear fo’ God you ain’t. I done put dat behind me and I be goddamn if you gon’ make me suffer it again.’ I heard dat loud and clear.

  “I knowed Sister was either hurt real bad or dead ‘cause she wunnit movin’ no mo’. Momma fell on de ground next to her and started cryin’ somethin’ awful. It didn’t make no sense to me. She started apologizin’ fu’ bein’ a bad momma and fu’ havin’ to do what she jes’ did, but she couldn’t help it, she said. De baby looked too much like you, and she wunnit gon’ neva deal wit’ dat again. I didn’t know exactly what she meant, but I guessed it had somethin’ to do wit’ you not bein’ hu nachel-born son. I neva knowed she resented you like dat.”

  I leaned my head back and studied the heavens, unsure if I wanted to hear the rest or run and call the police.

  “Anyway, Momma snapped back to hu’ regular mean self and ran in de house. I didn’t know what she was doin’ or how long she was gonna be gone. I tried to move again, I sware I did, but I jes’ couldn’t. I didn’t know nothin’ else to do but cry and hold myself real tight. Momma come back what seem like a second later and wrapped Sister in a big white sheet. She didn’t do nothin’ wit’ de baby. Then, she took de shovel and ran out de barn frantically. Dat’s when my bones thawed and I ran to Sister’s body and unwrapped it real fast. I thought she was dead, but she wunnit. I wuz bawlin’ and holdin’ hu’ tight and tellin’ hu’ how much I loved hu’. De only thing she said wuz,’Tell T.L. I love him.’ Then hu’ head fell back and I knowed she was gone. I put de sheet back ova hu’ face and bleated like a young lamb at slaughter. I was helpless, hopeless, and too confused to know what to do. But I knowed fu’ sho’ I didn’t want Momma to know I had seen hu’. I wuz gon’ do somethin’, I promised myself, but I didn’t know what. No police would believe my story, and I didn’t have nobody else to tell.

  “I grabbed de baby and took off runnin’ for de woods. Momma didn’t see me’cause she was too busy diggin’ Sister’s grave. At least I think she didn’t see me. I don’t think I ever ran dat fast in my life. I had de baby in one arm and a little garden shovel in de otha. When I got back in de woods behind de barn, I rocked de little boy and hummed nursery rhymes as I rubbed his dead body. I hugged him and thought about you and wuz mad’cause I didn’t know where to find you and I needed you bad dat day. My tears fell on de crown o’ his head as I trembled and sang all at de same time. Then I remembered de tractor parked down de lane from de house and told myself I’d betta hurry befo’ somebody see it and know somethin’ ain’t right.

  “I laid my son on de ground real gentle-like and dug a little grave where I found a soft spot underneath some old leaves. I couldn’t hardly see fu’ cryin’ and my hands kept droppin’ de shovel’cause I was so nervous. But after a coupla minutes, I had a hole dug and laid de baby in it and covered him up. I put de leaves back over de spot and said a prayer and left.”

  “Where exactly did you bury him?” My curiousity got the better of my terror.

  Willie James scrutinized my face. “I ain’t gon’ tell dat, T.L. I promised myself I wunnit gon’ neva tell nobody and I’m gon’ keep dat promise.”

  As he was obviously resolute in his self-commitment, I pushed no further.

  “I wanted somethin’ dat wuz jes’ between me and my son. Since I couldn’t share his life, de least I could do, I said to myself, was to give him a proper burial. I promised him sweet rest by tellin’ him dat nobody would ever disturb him again. I intend to keep dat promise.”

  “What about seeing him on the ground that day back in the woods? How did that happen?”

  “I don’t know. But I did see him. I was in shock’cause I knowed fu’ sho’ dat I had jes’ buried him myself. I thought maybe a coyote or somethin’ had smelled him and dug him up, but it wouldn’t have left him there. It woulda ate him or drug him away, right?”

  Thinking the question rhetorical, I returned only a stare.

  “I picked him up and cradled him in my arms again. I felt worse than I ever felt in my life. I had done made a promise to my son, and somethin’ or somebody proved to me dat I didn’t have no control ova his life anyway. I went back to de place where I buried him and it looked untouched. I didn’t see no animal tracks and the leaves didn’t look rustled. I thought I was losing my mind, T.L.”

  “You were!” I said.

  “Well, to get it back again, I cremated him myself. I wunnit gon’ let nothin’ disturb my son’s peace again, if I could help it.”

  I was standing before him, staring into his eyes, searching incessantly for the logic that justified his psychopathic behavior.

  “Don’t look down at me, man!” he reproached me. “What else could I do? I had made a promise and I had to keep it. What’s wrong wit’ dat?”

  “The whole thing is sick!” I foamed hysterically. “You made a promise to a dead baby whom you and your own sister had conceived! Of course, she was murdered by her mother as her brother watched in frozen horror. Then—”

  Willie James rebuked my sarcasm, “Don’t talk to me like I ain’t got no sense, boy. The story is more complicated than I can explain. You make it sound like it ain’t nothin’, but it is!”

  “Yes, it is serious, Willie James! But you don’t have the right to cremate a body simply because you want to!”

  “I didn’t want to!” he yelled violently, and swung his arms in the dark night. “I had to! This was my son and I had made a promise!”

  “How do you make a promise to a dead baby?”

  “Easy! I was talkin’ to his spirit. You should understand dat.”

  “I do understand that, Willie James, but I don’t understand how you cremate a body on your own recognizance.”

  “Your own what?” He appeared insulted.

  I circumvented the explanation by rewording, “I don’t understand how you decide to do that and simply do it.”

  “You did it all the time, T.L. Like when you left Swamp Creek. You jes’ up and decided to leave and you left. I don’t remember you makin’ no announcement or askin’ anybody else if they agreed or not.”

  “That’s different,” I argued weakly.

  “How? It looks like de same thang to me. You make a decision you think is right and you stand by it. Others ain’t got to agree.”

  He was right. Even as I thought of how peacefully I had left home after high school, I knew that if someone had protested, their words would have been meaningless vanity.

  “So I made a decision for my son and I don’t regret it. In fact, I’m glad about it’cause now can’t nobody mess with him.”

  “Then what were you smelling at the trash barrel that day?”

  “I lied about that, T.L. It was Momma who smelled somethin’ and she asked me what wuz burnin’ and I told her I had throwed a coupla dead rats from de barn onto de fire. She gave me a funny look and walked away. Everything I told you befo’ was jes’ to git you off my back. Now, I ain’t got to lie no more.”

  An owl perched itself on a tree limb about thirty feet from where we were standing. It examined us, rotating its head slowly, seemingly assessing whether we were too big to carry away. Then it spread its wings and flew toward us like a warplane.

  “Whoa!” we shouted simultaneously. The owl ascended quickly and disappeared.

  Willie James said pensively, “Grandma used to say that when you see an owl it’s really a dead person comin’ to talk to you. Maybe dat was Sister or de little baby boy.”

  “Maybe,” I repeated doubtfully, “but if it were either of them, I sure wish they had told us something to help make sense of all this.”

  “It ain’t gon’ neva make sense. Not completely. We too far gone round here to make complete sense. Everybody a li’l abnormal, includin’ you.”

>   I chuckled at the naked truth.

  “We jes’ gotta do de bes’ we can wit’ what we got left. I know all dis sound real stupid to you, but it ain’t. I been carryin’ dis fu’ years and it finally make sense to me.”

  “How?”

  “’Cause lonely, desperate people do desperate things. Ain’t nothin’ worse than livin’ a life you know don’t mean nothin’ to nobody. You keep askin’ yo’self what you here fu’, and you don’t neva come up wit’ nothin’. I think that’s why Sister came to my bed dat night. She wanted to create life, T.L. After you left, hu’ life lost all its meanin’ and she faced de truth dat she might live in Swamp Creek foreva and die wit’out anybody eva knowin’ she had been on de earth. Dat’s a bad feelin’, to come to de earth and leave wit’out anybody eva noticin’. What I’m sayin’ is dat everybody in de world is tryin’ to figure out how to be remembered. Some people write songs so radio stations and musicians can still play them long after dey gone, and some people build buildings and name them after theyselves ‘cause dey know de buildin’ is gon’ last longer than they are, and some people write books so others can read them hundreds of years after dey gone and de author’s pleasure is knowin’ dat they life don’t neva stop influencin’ otha lives. But round here, what wuz Sister gon’ do to make people remember hu’? The only thing she could think of was givin’ life to somebody else. Then, someone would be grateful to hu’ foreva. I guess dat’s why I didn’t stop hu’, too. I didn’t have nothin’ to leave de world. Farmin’ ain’t nothin’ dat nobody care’bout and drivin’ tractors ain’t no special skill. I wanted to touch at least one person’s life, T.L. Dat’s what everybody want, I think.”

  I sighed deeply and fought to receive my brother’s words amicably. In the midst of his insanity, I began to understand my family’s dysfunctional sensibility and why we were all determined, ultimately, to abandon our origin.