Gone Fishin’ er-6

by Walter Mosley

  ‘What you mean you don’t know?’ I had to duck down to keep the bamboo from hitting me in the face.

  ‘Ole Momma Jo’s a witch, an’ witch houses on out here is like boats.’ He made his voice sound ghostly. ‘Floatin’ on the bayou.’

  He didn’t believe in that voodoo stuff, but Clifton and Ernestine got quiet and looked around as if they expected to see Baron Samedi looking out from under his skull mask.

  ‘You can tell you gettin’ close t’Momma’s when the cicadas stop singin’ an’ the mosquitoes die down,’ Mouse said.

  I thought he was still trying to scare us, but after a while there came a sweet wood-burnt scent. Soon after that the whining of the cicadas receded and the ground became firmer.

  We came to a clearing and Mouse said, ‘Here we is,’ but all I saw was a stand of stunted pear trees with a big avocado rising up behind them.

  ‘She live in the open?’ Clifton asked.

  A cloud shifted and the sun shone between two pear trunks. A light glinted from the trees. Mouse whistled a shrill warbled note and in a while the door came open.

  It was a house hidden by trees way out there.

  The house was a shock, but it was the woman standing there that scared me.

  She was tall, way over six feet, wearing a short, light blue dress that was old and faded. Over her dress was a wide white apron; her jet-black skin shone against those pale colors so brightly that I winced when I first saw her. She was strongly built with wide shoulders and big strong legs.

  When she strode toward us I noticed the cudgel in her broad fist. For the first time in my life I felt the roots of my hair tingle. She came to within three strides of us and pushed her handsome face forward like something wild sniffing at strangers. There was no sympathy in her face. Ernestine jumped behind Clifton and I took a step back.

  Then she smiled. Big pure yellow teeth that were all there and healthy.

  ‘Raymond!’ The swamp behind us got even quieter. ‘Raymond, boy it’s good, good to see you.’ She lifted Mouse by his shoulders and hugged him to her big bosom. ‘Mmmmmmmmmmmm-mm, it’s good.’ She put him down and beamed on him like a smiling black sun. ‘Raymond,’ she said. ‘It’s been too long, honey.’

  Raymond is Mouse’s real name, but nobody except EttaMae called him that.

  ‘Jo, I brung you some store-bought.’ He held out the sack that still had two fifths of Johnnie Walker. ‘An’ some guests.’ He waved his hand at us.

  Momma Jo’s teeth went away but she was still smiling when she asked, ‘These friends?’

  ‘Oh yeah, Momma. This here is Easy Rawlins. He’s my best friend. An’ these chirren is the victims of a po-lice hunt. They in love too.’

  She took the sack and said, ‘Com’on then, let’s get in.’ We followed her in between the trees into the house, passing from day into night. The room was dark like nighttime because the sun couldn’t make it through the leaves to her windows. It was a big room lit by oil lanterns. The floor was cool soil that was swept and dry. The whole place was cool as if the trees soaked up all the swamp heat. In a corner two small armadillos were snuffling over corncobs and above them was a pure white cat, its hair standing on end as it hissed at us.

  The cat was on a ledge over a fireplace. Also on the ledge were thirteen skulls. Twelve of them were longsnout opossums, six on either side of a human skull that had been dried with the skin still on it. The skull leaned back with its teeth pushed forward, dried black lips for gums. The teeth were brown but here and there white bone poked through cracked human leather. The eyelids were shut and sunken but there was no repose in the broad features of that face. It was as if the agony of life had followed that poor soul into the after world.

  ‘Domaque,’ Momma Jo said, and I turned to see her looking at me.

  ‘What?’

  ‘My husband,’ she said. ‘Com’on, chirren, have a seat.’ She gestured for us to settle on the dirty blankets and piles of pillows she had surrounding the fireplace. There were only two pieces of wood furniture in the whole room. A three-legged stool and a rough-hewn plank table that had six legs. The table was piled with dried plants and all kinds of powders in glass jars and bowls. I didn’t look too close at the table because I didn’t want to see any other keepsakes like Domaque.

  She opened the sack and smiled when she saw little Johnnie. She said to Mouse, ‘You brought me lightnin’,’ then she looked at me, ‘an’ sugah.’

  ‘That’s right, Momma, you know I take care’a you.’

  ‘Uh-uh, baby, you takes care’a Raymond, an’ that’s why I loves you,’ Momma laughed. ‘Yes, yes. Raymond take care’a hisself.. .’

  We settled in and Momma broke out the scotch with hand-carved wood bowls that she used for glasses. She poured us each a drink, and then another one. We were down to the bottom of the second bottle. Mouse was talking about the wedding when Momma turned to Clifton and asked, ‘An’ why is the po-lice chasin’ you, honey?’

  ‘Well they ain’t really aftah me at all. Just sumpin’ come up an’ me an’ Ernestine had ta go, that’s all.’

  Momma Jo had been smiling and pleased the whole time, but she frowned then.

  ‘He kilt a boy in a bar fight, Momma,’ Mouse said. And before Clifton could speak, ‘Momma don’t always know what’s truf, Clifton, but she sure’n hell can smell a lie.’

  Ernestine was staring up at Momma’s face like she had never seen anything like her. ‘Tell’er, Clift,’ she said. ‘She ain’t gonna hurt us.’

  ‘You just trust ev’rybody, huh, girl? I might as well go on back there an’ give up, huh?’

  ‘No!’

  Momma Jo smiled and said, ‘Com’on, honey, you tell me the truth an’ I he’p.’ Those yellow teeth against her face and the armadillo spoor brought to mind a bear in her dark den. She seemed wild and violent and I could feel my heart working.

  ‘She the best chance you got,’ Mouse told him. I didn’t say anything. I knew that Mouse was working those kids for his own purposes but I didn’t care. I was just a driver, a cabbie waiting for his fare.

  Clifton was fair-minded, you could see that by the way he worried over the pressure those three put on him. He was sullen and sulky but his arms and shoulders were jerking so that you knew that the story wanted to come out.

  Mouse poured him another scotch and Clifton busted open like an overripe melon.

  He told Momma the same story he told in the car; he used the same words exactly. I knew right then that Clifton couldn’t lie to save his life.

  It was a strange day. That house was always midnight with its oil lamps burning and the armadillos and the cat skirting the edges of the room. Mouse was slouched up against the wall staring at the dead fireplace as if it were raging. Clifton was looking into his lap and Ernestine had her eyes glued to Momma Jo.

  Jo was taking it all in. She looked at each one in his turn. But when she looked at me she’d catch my eye and smile so it seemed like that old witch was flirting. She was more than twice my age but she was still a handsome woman without a wrinkle on her fine-featured face. And I knew that in women it’s the face that gets old first.

  She was sitting on the stool with her legs crossed like a man, it was only that long white apron that kept her modest. She was smoking a hand-rolled cigarette for a long time before she said, ‘You chirren got two thangs to do. First off you gotta hide while they look fo’you. That is if that boy really is dead. But that’s easy, ‘cause you kin stay here. I could use a strong boy like Clifton and Ernestine can help me wit’ my herbs.

  ‘But you got a worse thing ‘cause Clifton cain’t satisfy this young girl’s womanly needs an’ she ain’t woman enough t’teach him yet.’

  ‘Wha?’ Clifton was drunk by then so he staggered to his feet to challenge the witch. Clifton was a big boy, about my height with more heft to him, but Momma Jo had him by a head and twenty pounds.

  She stood up to his face and said, ‘Sit’own boy.’

  And he did.

&
nbsp; ‘I ain’t worried ‘bout yo’ pride, honey. You can see that Ernestine is out tryin t’make men appreciate what she got. That’s ‘cause she want sumpin’. She want satisfaction.’

  Ernestine started crying.

  Mouse had that invisible smile across his face.

  ‘I can he’p you chirren,’ Momma said. ‘I got a powder bring out what’s sleepin’ in you, make you see each other a whole new way.’

  She went to her table and started working with her powders and spoons. Mouse crawled over and nudged my arm. ‘Oh this gonna be a gem, Easy,’ he whispered. ‘Momma Jo’s especiality is love.’

  ‘But what’s this gotta do wit’ yo’ stepdaddy?’

  ‘Dont know, but it’s lookin’ good,’ he said. ‘Aftah while I’ma go out t’see a friend. Don’t you be worried though.’

  ‘I go wichyou.’

  ‘Uh-uh, Easy. These country folks don’t like crowds too much.’

  Right then Momma Jo interrupted, ‘Ezekiel? Honey, reach over on that shelf and bring me that blue jug. Yeah, that’s it. Bring it over here, baby. Now, Clifton an’ Ernestine you’all bring me yo’ cups.’

  She poured a strong alcohol liquid into their bowls and then carefully measured some powder and dried leaves into each one.

  Clifton got a brown powder and Ernestine a white. ‘Now drink it all down at once, don’t leave nuthin in the cup... yeah, that’s it.’

  They did what she said like they were children. But I didn’t question it either, because that’s how life was back then. You listened to older folks and did what you were told. Even if you knew better you’d follow the rules because that’s how we were raised. Everybody but Mouse.

  Mouse never took an order unless that’s what he wanted to do. Mouse wasn’t the only man I knew who’d stand up for what he believed, but he was different in one way: Most men who stood up for themselves would rather die than be slaves; Mouse would’ve rather killed.

  ‘Okay, babies,’ Momma said to Ernestine and Clifton. ‘You go sit together next to the hearth. Ezekiel baby? Why don’t you blow out some’a them lights an’ I tell you all a story.’

  Chapter Four

  I went around the big room blowing out lamps. It became more nighttime than ever but I knew it was afternoon not ten yards from where we sat.

  Momma Jo brought her stool in front of us and looked down on the two lovers.

  ‘How you chirren feelin’?’

  ‘Fine,’ they said together.

  Clifton had softened with the drink. I think he felt better too, once he told Jo his story. Good men always need to confess.

  ‘That’s good,’ she said. ‘You was lookin’ at my husband, huh, ‘Zekiel?’

  I felt her attention burning on me even though she was looking at them.

  ‘What husband?’ I asked.

  ‘That’s him up on the mantel place,’ she said, nodding at the row of skulls. ‘I met him more’n twenny-three years ago. I’as just a girl, hardly in my teens. He was a big man with a great big laugh and powerful arms. Ev’rything about Domaque was big.’

  A shiver ran through Ernestine.

  ‘But the biggest thing about him was his heart,’ Momma Jo continued. ‘He loved chirren an’ animals an’ trees an’ even dirt. He used to say that he wanted everybody to know him an’ he wanted to get to know ev’rybody he could.

  ‘If a man had a job to do and it was too much for him, he’d call on Domaque an’ that job was done. Dom didn’t ask fo’money or barter or anything; if you give him somethin’ he was glad t’take it and if you couldn’t pay, well, Dom knew what it was like t’be poor too.’

  The lovers were frozen like startled deer. But every once in a while Ernestine shook.

  Momma Jo flashed her yellow teeth and said, ‘Well, you know it’s the same old story over and over again. I was a big girl fo’my age. Matter’a fact I was bigger’n most women by the time I was thirteen, and womanly too. My parents wanted t’fool themselves that I was still a chile, but when I saw Dom my li’l dolls fell away. When I see him an’ hear him laugh, ‘cause he was always ready t’laugh, I’d just swell up inside so it felt like the clothes was gonna split right off me.

  ‘You know, Dom knew ev’ry fam’ly to a child fo’twenty miles ‘round Pariah. He did work on ev’ry farm an’ backyard we got here but he kept findin’ excuses to be ‘round our place. Dom was what we called a rover. He slept wherever he could in trade fo’labor. He worked a lot at the Fontanot place next to ours or at the Hollis farm down the road. And ev’ry chance he got he’d drop by t’say hi t’Daddy, but you know his eyes was on my woman’s body in that little girl’s dress.

  ‘My titties stuck straight out when I’as a girl.’ She looked me in the eye when she said that.

  ‘Fin’ly one day I got t’get away down to the Hollis place when Dom was workin’ to pull a stump from their field. I go down there with some bread an’ sausage an’ I told him ‘bout a place where we could eat. An’ when we get t’my l’ll hideaway in the trees I hand him the paper bag an’ then pull my dress off. That’s all I could think about, I stripped down an’ looked at him. An’ do you know that big man went limp on the ground just like a sack’a bones. I shoulda seen somethin’ was wrong right then but before I got a chance he come over me like a tidal wave.’ She frowned, remembering pain and pleasure at the same time. ‘He got me on my back and on my knees; he made me ride’im like a horse. And once he got in me he didn’t want out, uh-uh. I was sore and raw and bloody but Domaque kept comin’. When I fin’ly couldn’t hold back and started t’cry he got up an’ said, “Gimme that sausage,” an’ I thought he was through an’ had t’eat. But he scooped up the fat that hardened in the paper an’ rubbed it on his thing. Then he started slippin’ hi an’ outta me like a fish. You know they put spices hi that sausage an’ it burns ya if you got a cut. Yeah...’

  Clifton had his hand on his crotch and Ernestine hugged her chest but they didn’t touch each other. They looked like tired children, about to throw a fit.

  ‘That was Domaque. First he taught me how men hurts women and then he started t’cry. He was afraid ‘bout how my daddy would have to fight ovah what happened. Seem like Domaque had a wife down hi Looziana so he couldn’t do right by me and he liked my daddy so he didn’t want t’kil’im.’ She sat back and took a draw on her cigarette.

  Momma Jo’s face was handsome and hard, almost like a man’s face but you could see she was a woman. ‘I got a room behind that blanket, Ernestine. Anytime you want you an’ Clifton can go on back there.’ Ernestine was pushing a small homemade pillow down between her legs but she shook her head, no.

  ‘So he ran off.’ Momma shifted over to me. ‘He come out here when they wasn’t nobody in the swamp and he built this house. And as soon as it was good enough t’sleep in he come an’ got me. I din’t wanna go but he needed me so bad that what I felt din’t seem t’mattah. He took me out here and he started callin’ me a witch. He said that I had spelled him an’ he had t’have me, an’ he did too. Ev’ry night he’d come out here his pants was halfway down by the time he was in the do’. At first I liked it but then it got to be too much, too much...’

  ‘Uh!’ Ernestine had her hand down the front of Clifton’s pants, pulling back and forth, hard; I didn’t know if he called out in pleasure or pain.

  ‘You chirren better go on back now. Go on, get in there behind the blanket,’ Momma Jo said, and she walked across the room to pull the blanket back for them. Clifton staggered like a drunk with Ernestine pulling on his dick; she tried to hide what she was doing, but you could tell.

  When the blanket swung down they started making love noises. I was on my feet and headed for the front door when Momma touched my arm.

  ‘Oh yeah, Clifton!’ came Ernestine’s voice from the other room.

  Momma Jo said, ‘Come sit’own wit’ me, Daddy. Over here.’

  I looked over to where Mouse had been sitting but he was gone. There was no sign of my friend. I remembered that he planned
to see someone. I wondered if he planned to leave me in that house.

  ‘Com’on, sit’own, Daddy.’ Jo was leaning back on a pile of pillows, pulling on my thigh. Ernestine was yelling in short coughs. The armadillos wrestled in the corner. I got weak and fell to my knees.

  ‘I ain’t finished my story yet.’ She put her arms around me and rested my head back against her shoulder. I was too dizzy to fight her.

  ‘Oooooo-uh!’ The voice was so twisted I couldn’t tell if it was Ernestine or Clifton.

  ‘You wanted t’know how Dom’s head came t’be here, din’t you?’ Jo’s whisper smelled of tobacco and whiskey, of garlic and sweet chili. When she laid her hand on my thing I realised it was hard.

  ‘I cut it off myself,’ she said on a slender breath.

  Ernestine had settled down into long breathing sighs that cut into the room like hot spoons into lard, but I didn’t pay much attention. My stomach had started churning. I was sure that I was going to vomit, but Momma Jo put her big hand against my chest and pressed, then released, then pressed.

  She said, ‘Shhhh, baby. Be quiet now,’ so softly that I could barely hear her over Ernestine.

  I laid there and let her breathe for me. I could feel her heart pounding from a vein throbbing in her thigh against my leg. Ernestine was chanting Clifton’s name over and over. Momma Jo’s hand was pressing down and letting go. I closed my eyes, wishing my mind back home.

  ‘My daddy s’pected Domaque of takin’ me,’ she said. ‘An* Dom was worried. He brought a old woman he called his auntie out t’take care’ame ‘cause he din’t come out too much, he was so scared that one’a daddy’s friends would catch on. An’ Luvia, that was his auntie, started t’teach me about herbs an’ other things.’

  ‘That how you become a witch?’ My voice cracked; there was the taste of bile in my throat.

  ‘It was Domaque made me a witch.’

  ‘Oh-ohhhhh,’ Ernestine softly sighed.

  Momma Jo pressed my chest, then she moved her hand down over my belly to press my thing; then she pressed my chest again. She did that over and over while she said: