Devon blushed in the darkness. “Yeah, I guess.”
“She is a purty little girl. Gittin’ some nice little titties on ‘er, too. You like blondes better’n brunettes?”
“I doeknow,” Devon replied honestly. He had never even noticed girls until recently.
“Yeah? I like brunettes myself. Take Gwen. She’s a little plump, but she’s got a nice little pair o’ titties on ‘er.” He was talking about Gwen Muntz, Sandy’s closest friend. She was taller than Sandy and had freckles, like Marie.
“I never noticed,” Devon confessed.
“No? You oughta start payin’ attention. We got some fine lookin’ girls in our class.”
“Uh huh,” Devon assented. He didn’t know what else to say.
Mr. Wilson pulled into the parking lot of Tipp City High School. “Well, here we are at Sip Titty. Wake up, Tommy!” he ordered. Tommy did not move. “I said, WAKE UP TOMMY!” he shouted. Tommy stirred.
“I don’t wanta see no stupid bas—.”
“I don’t wanta hear no back talk from you, boy. GIT OUTA THE CAR! NOW!”
Tommy got out and grumpily shuffled behind his father and Devon.
“That boy don’t wanta do a thing I ask him to do. Just like his mother,” Mr. Wilson said to Devon as they stood in line to buy tickets.
Tipp City had a skinny black-haired boy who was six feet, eight inches tall and able to dunk the ball with both hands. He dominated the game and had fifty-two points by the end. Tipp City trounced Northridge, 86 to 54.
During the game, Devon wondered if he would be that good in high school. He also kept thinking about what Mr. Wilson had said about the girls in class. He had never heard a man talk about girls like that. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.
“We mighta beat ‘em if they hadn’t had that Mark kid,” Mr. Wilson mused on their way to the car. “He was just too good.”
“Yeah,” Devon agreed.
Mr. Wilson and Devon chatted about the game on their way home south on Interstate 75. Tommy stretched out on the back seat and slept. As they approached Needmore Road, Mr. Wilson glanced at Devon and asked, “You ever kiss a girl, Devon?”
Devon smiled. “Nah. Not yet.”
“Give it time. You’re still young.”
“Uh huh.”
“I was kissin’ a girl in the car once an’ I tasted sump’n’ salty, so I turned on the overhead light an’ looked in the mirror. There was blood all over my mouth! I couldn’t believe it. Her nose had been bleedin’!”
“Huh,” Devon commented. He did not know what else to say.
“Yeah, her nose had been bleedin’ an’ I didn’t have a clue until I tasted it.” He did not think Devon was old enough to tell him that it hadn’t been her nose. He turned into Devon’s driveway. “This was fun, Dev. You wanta do it again?”
“Sure.”
“Great! See ya Monday.”
Devon opened the door. “OK. See ya Monday. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.”
Devon closed the car door and went into the house.
Lemuel had grappled with the doppelgänger of himself that was attracted to Derek in his mind for six months and had tried to avoid seeing him at all costs. At the end of six months, having tired of the battle, he found himself driving down West Third Street in Dayton after a night of unsuccessfully trying to drown the doppelgänger with alcohol. He slowly cruised west, looking for a black lady of the night to alleviate his fear that he was a queer.
Finally, he spotted a slender, buxom black woman leaning against a mailbox in a short dress and high heels, watching all the cars pass. He made a U-turn at the next light, went past her again slowly, and made another U-turn at the end of the block. He stopped at the curb in front of her, leaned over and rolled down the passenger window. She walked up and rested her elbows on the open window. Lemuel’s heart was beating fast. He had never been with a prostitute. She smiled at him. “Hi, honey,” she said, “you datin’ tonight?”
“I . . . yeah, I gesh show. How much?”
“Twenty dollars for a half an’ half.”
“What’s a half an’ half?”
“You never been with a workin’ girl before?”
“No, I ain’t.”
“It’s half suckin’ an’ half fuckin’.”
“Oh . . . How mush jus’ for the first part?”
“Ten.”
“OK.”
She opened the door and slid onto the leather seat. An overpowering smell of perfume filled the car. “Go down two blocks an’ pull into the parkin’ lot at the E-Z Inn. It’s on the right.”
“OK.”
She looked at him closely. “You ain’t a cop, are you?”
“Nah. I work in a fact’ry, makin’ lawnmower parts.”
“You sure you ain’t a cop?”
“B’lieve me. I ain’t no cop.”
“Here it is. Pull in an’ stop in front o’ 12. It’s on the left.”
“OK.”
They got out of the car. She took a key from her purse and unlocked the door. Lemuel followed her inside. There was a slender young white man with his shirt off standing at the foot of the bed and a naked black woman lying on the bed. They turned and looked at them when they entered.
“We can jus’ go in here,” she stated, as she opened a door on the left. It was the bathroom. They went inside, and she closed the door. “Gimme muh money,” she demanded. Lemuel reached into his back pocket for his wallet, took out a ten and handed it to her. She dropped to her knees in front of him. “Tell me when you’re about to come,” she instructed.
“OK,” Lemuel agreed. “Yeah, right,” he thought. “No way.”
She unzipped his pants. Memories of Gwen surged into his brain. As he watched her perform her ministrations on him, he suddenly felt powerful, invincible. She was his servant, his slave, her full black lips reserved only for him. He erupted without telling her. She sprang up and spat into the sink. She cupped her hands and washed her mouth out with water. “I tol’ you to tell me when you was comin’, you son of a bitch!” she remonstrated.
“I didn’t know,” Lemuel lied, as he zipped up his pants. He opened the door and left without looking back toward the bed.
On the way home, he replayed what had transpired over and over. “See?” he said to the doppelgänger in his mind that had been attracted to Derek. “I tol’ you I wudden no sissy. I like women, ‘specially black women. . . . Hot damn! She was good.” She had drawn on him so hard that he probably would be bruised in the morning, but there was nothing to fear. Leona had never seen him with the light on. It dawned on him that this was the first time he had ever cheated on Leona. “An’ I’ll be goddamn if I know why. I been ‘privin’ myself for what? For some silly marriage vows. Thass fucked! No more. No more.”
Chapter 7
1962
Dead weeds protruded from the snow like charred fingers, pointing accusingly at the brooding sky. Devon and Rig had trudged slowly through the foot-deep snow to the top of the knoll west of the frozen creek that ran past the haunted house. They were breathing heavily by the time they struggled to the top, every breath visible in the frigid air. They were already cold, even though each had on two pairs of pants and were cocooned within a tee shirt, a long-sleeve shirt, a sweater, and a heavy winter jacket. Both had on ear muffs, gloves, and boots over their shoes. At the top, they turned and looked back at their footprints. The snow was undisturbed except where they had walked. Devon had been pulling a sled behind him. They shuffled north to the barbed wire fence which separated the property behind the gas station from the haunted house and looked down the steepest part of the knoll. It was the best place to sled, with one minor drawback. There was a hundred-year-old oak tree at the bottom of the knoll growing alongside the creek, and only a four-foot gap between the tree and the fence. If one did not immediately begin steering the sled to the left as soon as he started downhill, he would end up ramming the sled
into the tree. This made the run more exciting, although, because of the low height of the hill, a very short one.
Devon and Rig first tramped up and down the hill in their boots to create a smooth run. It was never any fun to run with the sled, throw it down and lie on it only for it to come to an abrupt stop a few feet down the hill because of the depth of the snow. It took them ten minutes, but finally the run looked compacted enough to try. Rig would be first; it was his sled. He dragged the sled west along the fence for about ten feet, lifted it and grabbed the steering bar, making sure the towrope was on top of the sled, ran back east along the fence, threw the sled down at the pinnacle of the hill and lay down on it.
“Wahooo!” he yelled as the sled went down the hill, pulling the steering bar with his left hand and pushing it as hard as he could with his right to avoid ramming the tree. The sled zoomed quickly down the hill, equidistant from the fence and the tree. It careened out onto the ice of the frozen creek, which they had not cleared, struck a rock on the opposite side and overturned, knocking him into the snow. He stood up, dusted the snow off his pants and exclaimed, “Wow! That was fun!”
“OK, my turn!” Devon yelled excitedly from the top of the hill. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.
“OK, comin’ right up,” Rig said. He first tried to dislodge the large rock that he had struck from the creek, but it was frozen solid into the ice, and he could not budge it.
“C’mon, gimme a try,” Devon pleaded. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.
“OK. I can’t pull up this stupid rock.”
“Just leave it. We’ll steer around it.” I do believe in the Holy Ghost.
“I guess we’re gonna haf to.” He grabbed the towrope and dragged the sled up the hill, slipping a few times on the way up. “OK, here ya go.”
He handed the towrope to Devon, and he pulled the sled to where Rig had started. He turned and ran toward the downslope as Rig had done. He was not quite as successful as Rig in steering and came within four inches of striking the tree. Because he was on a different track than Rig had been, the sled missed the rock and slid up the opposite bank of the creek and came to a stop.
“Hey! You figured it out! All we gotta do to not hit the rock is come as close as we can to the tree.”
“I’m not so sure I wanta do that every time,” Devon yelled up. It had scared him coming so close to the tree. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun. We’ll see who can git closest.” He glanced up beyond Devon and saw a dark figure moving slowly across the snow. It was Travis.
“Travis is comin’.”
Devon turned around to look. “Yeah, he is,” he said. He pulled the sled back up the hill. I do believe in the Holy Ghost. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.
Travis walked up the sled run from the creek. “Whatchou babies doin’?” he asked when he got to the top.
“Jus’ sleddin’ an’ tryin’ not to hit the tree,” Rig responded. He noticed that Travis was only wearing a light black jacket and no gloves or boots. “Ain’tchou cold?” he asked.
“Nah,” Travis scoffed. “It ain’t cold out here. Boots an’ gloves are for pussies. Lemme try a run.” He dragged the sled all the way to the back fence, ran as hard as he could through the snow, threw down the sled at the top of the hill, and whooshed down the hill, deliberately pointing the sled at the tree. When he was half a second from hitting the tree dead on, he rolled off the sled to the left, laughing. The sled struck the tree and knocked off a piece of bark.
“Travis!” Rig yelled. “You’re gonna break the sled!” He ran down the hill to see if the sled had been damaged.
“Ah, I didden hurt your stinkin’ sled. That’s how ya have fun on this hill.”
“By tryin’ to kill yourself?”
“I wasn’t tryin’ to kill myself,” Travis demurred. “I knew what I was doin’ the whole time. You babies should try it. That’s how me an’ Scotty do it all the time.”
“No wonder you can’t keep a sled,” Rig commented.
“Yeah, well, we ain’t no pussies like you babies are. We know how to have fun. Tell Mom an’ Dad I’m goin’ to Scotty’s.” He finished brushing the snow off his pants and walked across the frozen creek.
“You better not be late for supper, or you know what you’ll git!” Rig yelled at his back.
Travis held aloft his right middle finger as he trudged across the snow towards the filling station.
“What’s wrong with him?” Devon asked. I do believe in the Holy Ghost.
“I doeknow. He’s always been like that.”
They sledded down the hill until their toes, fingers, and noses were numb and the wet snow had begun to penetrate the layers of pants to their skin. They reluctantly went back to the house.
Devon was spending the last four days of Christmas break at Rig’s house. Del could not come because he had gotten a paper route and had to deliver the Dayton Daily News every afternoon. He had begun leaving a portion of his earnings atop the refrigerator in their house on Hiawatha Drive. He knew how hard it was for Adam to pay for gas to go to the church in Snyderville four times a week and to keep six mouths fed. Adam and Marie were grateful, but they never thanked him. They thought it was his duty as the eldest son to help support the family. Del never expected to be thanked.
When they got back to the house, they took off their wet clothes, changed into dry ones, and played Monopoly with Dollie and Lurlene in their bedroom. Rufus stuck his head in after using the bathroom and asked, “You young’uns seen Travis?”
“Not me,” Dollie replied, as Lurlene shook her head no.
“We did,” Rig said. “He came to the hill an’ went down the sled run once. He said he was goin’ to Scotty’s.”
“Again without askin’ me? That boy’s got a head harder’n steel. I doeknow what it’s gonna take for him to mind me.”
“You could whup ‘im every day,” Lurlene advised.
“Now, I don’t need no advice from you, young lady, unless you’d like a little taste o’ tea yourself.”
“No, thank you,” Lurlene retorted saucily, “I don’t like tea.”
“Didden think so,” Rufus agreed. He went back downstairs.
Devon lay awake on the sofa in the living room, moving his right foot back and forth under the blanket covering him, trying to get his mind off the aching in his body. He had the flu and was lying on the sofa because his parents did not want him to give Del the flu by sleeping in the same bedroom. He had not gone to school for two days. It was Thursday night and the house was quiet. There was a register above him that allowed the heat from the first floor to be carried into his parents’ bedroom. Suddenly, from that opening, he heard the squeaking of bed springs. At first, he thought that his father or mother was just turning over in bed, but the squeaking continued regularly every few seconds. He suddenly realized what the sound was. “They’re fuckin’!”
A hot bolt of anger, like molten magma, surged through his body and added to his suffering. “We already got enough kids in this family,” he thought resentfully. “Why are you tryin’ to make more?” After a few minutes, the squeaking stopped.
He could not believe they had been fucking. They were barely making it as it was without adding more mouths to feed. He kept angrily thinking about what he had heard until his anger subsided and the ache in his body once again gained prominence in his awareness. He resumed moving his right foot back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Back I do believe in the Holy Ghost and forth I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Back I do believe in the Holy Ghost and forth I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Back I do believe in the Holy Ghost and forth I do believe in the Holy Ghost. Back I do believe in the Holy Ghost and forth I do believe in the Holy Ghost. He drifted off into a restive sleep, and dreamt of a toaster that worked in reverse, ejecting the toast from beneath instead of from the top, and his mother placing butter and jelly atop the slots of the toaster so that the toast when it popped out was alr
eady spread with butter and jelly.
Marie awoke with a weight on her chest so heavy that she was unsure that she could get out of bed. Today was her wedding day, and she was depressed. A mere twenty-four hours ago, she had been convinced that she was the happiest girl on earth, that no girl had ever experienced such joy and contentment or had greater expectations for the future than she as she sat in front of her mirror and brushed her long red hair and thought of Adam. She imagined how wonderful it would be to be married to a former soldier and how happy they would be on their wedding night, each discovering the mysteries of lovemaking together for the first time. Now, all those girlish hopes and dreams that her callow mind could concoct had been transmogrified overnight into a weight on her heart so heavy that no power on earth would ever dislodge it.
Adam had been married before! And had a baby girl! She wanted to believe that the child was not his as he claimed, but he had lied to her about his age and about never being married. How could she believe that the child wasn’t his? “Once a liar, always a liar,” she thought. “I’ll never trust this man again.”
She got through the day pretending that everything was alright between them and that it was the most wonderful day of her life. She feigned happiness and smiled whenever anyone congratulated her or told her how beautiful she looked. In reality, her heart was breaking, and every step down the aisle, accompanied by her father, seemed to bring her closer to a prison from which she knew there would be no escape.
As she repeated the wedding vows after the Baptist minister, she could no longer hold back the tears and cried throughout them as she looked across at Adam, who was beaming.
The audience was touched and thought she was crying tears of joy because her dream of marrying a soldier had finally come true. Only Adam and his sister, Zona, knew the truth.
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