Descendants of Hagar

by Nik Nicholson

  MIEMAY’S NEW HOUSE

  “We done!” I hear Reverend Patrick bust into Miemay’s front door announcing proudly. “Miemay? We done,” he keep saying coming down the hall. I wait for him to reach ‘a bedroom. I look at ‘a; she don’t budge.

  When he knock, I say, “Come on.” Soon as he see ‘a laying in the bed, his demeanor change. He like a star losing its light as it falls. He still smiling proudly though, but she too tired to match his enthusiasm. It hurt ’im, when she don’t immediately respond.

  I put down Zion’s newspaper, we both waiting. I’m looking at him, having a silent conversation, while leaning into the wind listening for Miemay voice.

  “Want me to take you over there to see it?” he offers, looking down at ‘a like a kid on Christmas, sincerely happy.

  I think he be honored to show ‘a round. Tell ‘a how he did this or that. They got such a strange love-hate relationship. Yeah, she don’t like what he say in church, but he the one person come see about ‘a the most. He one of the few people tell ‘a how he really feel. And he be calling hisself doing something bout it. Cain’t say the same for other folks.

  These days she in and out of sleep, but she hear you. If you repeat yourself, it’ll make ‘a mad. I don’t know how much time pass, when she finally stir and mumble, “Ia look in the monin.”

  Reverend Patrick look at me, grim, then step back gesturing for me to come look at ‘a close.

  I get up to go check on ‘a. She look back at me like a bright-eyed baby. This Miemay new, strange and spooky. Look like she don’t even know me.

  “I’m going git one of ‘a daughters to come sit wichall,” he offer sadly.

  “Nah,” I refuse shaking my head “no,” too. Then I look down at Miemay. “She promised to tell me when it’s ‘a time.”

  Reverend Patrick look at me with disbelief. He got something to say, but he don’t want to say it round Miemay. He looking back and forth between us, searching for the words.

  Finally he say, “I done seen lots a folks die too, and-” he stop when Miemay stir. “I’m gone run home cause I got some thangs to take care of, but I’ll be back tonight.”

  When the sun bout to set, I fix Miemay supper on a tray to eat in bed. When I get back to ‘a room, she done sat up, and threw ‘a legs over the edge of the bed. Kinda scare me, cause Iain expect ‘a to ever get up with the way things been going.

  “Tek me ta dat house,” she order out of breath like she been running from something or somebody. She got a fist planted on either side of ‘aself, looking like she gone get up and go by ‘aself if I don’t take ‘a back there.

  We walking so slow, seem like forever before we reach the front porch. Got ‘a cane, but she don’t use it much as she leaning on me.

  When I pick ‘a up, to carry ‘a up the steps, I feel how ‘a skin hanging on ‘a bones. She don’t weigh much at all. Feel like she wasting away, and that break my heart. I’m glad she get to see ‘a house. I wonder who gone get it later.

  When I climb the stairs carrying ‘a, I hear how silent my steps are; they don’t whine under our weight. Already this house sturdier than ‘a old cabin. I put ‘a down to open the door. Then turn to pick ‘a up again.

  “Ica walk,” she protest, leaning away from me. Way she looking and breathing remind me of when Uncle Jimmy got drunk, and couldn’t stand. Still, she always want to do for ‘aself. I’ve learned not to force help on ‘a. People need to feel they got some control, to test they legs and fall if that’s what they wont. So I let ‘a go in ‘a own house first.

  From the front door it open to the living room on the right, got the couches already set up in here. Right up front is the stairs. The floors are even, smooth, and polished cause the wood was imported.

  Now Miemay can walk round barefoot, well, she do anyhow. Now Iain got to worry bout ‘a getting splinters the way she do sometimes on them uneven, rough floors in ‘a cabin.

  Here, the walls insulated, and I feel like I’m inside of something. Her other house part of outside, the wood on it make it look like it grew up tween the crops. The walls are logs, rough, and the spaces tween ’em let the cold through even though they been covered in newspaper, and mud, and white washed. Them walls she got now don’t hardly keep the squirrels and possums out. Here, it ain’t even a hole for a mouse to get through.

  We walk around looking at the kitchen, with the new stove and electric icebox Miemay ordered from the Sears catalog. The kitchen big enough to eat in, but she made them build a separate dining room. I see the table me and the younger grandkids sanded. The furniture in here some of the best wood work I done seen, I done done.

  We look in the first bathroom, it’s got a sink, toilet and tub. Miemay just wanted a toilet down here, so she ain got to go up and down the stairs every time she got to go. Reverend Patrick said, “Thata be half a bafroom! Whoever heard of a half bafroom with just a toilet and sink?” So he put everything in this bathroom too, a tub, and it’s big.

  The house all fixed up, curtains hung and everything. The other women done come and made it a home for Miemay. All she really got to do is move in, put ‘a own personal touches round here. They wanted to move ‘a things in here, too, but she wouldn’t let ’em. Say they go when she go.

  “How ya lak dis piano?” Miemay ask weakly, laughing. I’m so gone, Ion even notice it sitting in the front room when we first walk in.

  “Very nice. Very, very nice.” I smile much as I can considering how down I feel. “What made you get this piano?”

  “You,” she say, smiling sad. “I always hoped you’d git back ta it. Maybe play yo Miemay a song every now an den.”

  I push down on a few of the keys, and the sounds seem to fill the house.

  “I had dis dream, you was playin all the time,” she get lost in ‘a thoughts.

  “Miemay, Iain played for years.”

  “It be a blessing ta have some music round here. Something other than what they playin in chuch. Back in the day, slaves sho could throw a party, gull. Ooh, they’d git ta clappin and dancin and sangin.

  “Now since we free, everthang the devil. Folks don’t jus sang ta sang, or play fa fun no moe. I miss the harvest festival, everbody jus outside round the fire, dancin, talkin, laughin and clappin.” She imagining it, and smiling a little.

  I press the keys one by one looking at it again. It seem like too much noise for how I feel. The keys echo through the house. I feel like I might cry. I breathe deep hoping a little air’ll dry my tears.

  “We ain looked at the study.” She smile so we go arm and arm to the back of the house. “You ain got ta be readin ta me at the foot of mah bed no moe,” Miemay offer, proud.

  I just smile taking it all in, I’m gone miss reading at the foot of ‘a bed.

  There’s a large wooden desk and matching chair in here that makes it look like real official business gone be done. There are bookshelves and two matching arm chairs on either side of a large picture window for readers.

  “Miemay, you so funny. You done made them fix this room up like this and cain’t even read,” I tease ‘a.

  “I’m gone use yo eyes.” She laugh leaning on me good.

  I feel ‘a getting tired, and I want to take ‘a back to ‘a cabin but she don’t like being told what to do, not even if it’s for ‘a own good. When she take a seat in one of the arm chairs, I really look around. There are a few books on the shelves. I remember her arguing with Reverend Patrick bout this, too. I wonder now, if he ain’t the one probly gone get this house in the end. Then he be glad Miemay got all this stuff.

  “Come on.” She push ‘aself up on ‘a cane. When we get to the steps, Miemay sit on the easiest one to get to. Seem like she trying to catch ‘a breath. She lean ‘a head on ‘a cane, and look around when she can. I sit with ‘a, waiting.

  Now I think I know why she didn’t really respond when Reverend Patrick came by. It woulda made it seem like he was right bout not building her a new house. He said she don’t need no two story. If
I have anything to say about it, I’ll set ‘a up in that study. It’s a bathroom down here.

  I turn the light off and on a few times. She smile at me, so I keep doing it til she put ‘a head down. I think about how easy it is to turn lights on in here. I done it a dozen times in the building of all the different places, and never grow tired of it. This switch is extra special though cause it’s in Miemay’s house.

  Be glad when we get round to building my family a new house, and we don’t have to use oil lamps, lanterns and candles. No more out houses either. I inhale the fresh scent of new wood all through the house.

  “Let’s go.” Miemay push up again on ‘a cane, then fall into the wall so I rush to catch ‘a. Holding ‘a up, we stand silent. I know she cussing ‘a body for letting ‘a down.

  Helping sometimes make ‘a feel worse. So I let go slow, watching how ‘a body sway even with the cane and wall supporting ‘a. I stand close, waiting.

  She sturdy ‘aself, then fan me away. Finally turning around to face the stairs, she look disappointed, like them stairs are a impossible mountain to climb.

  “Hold tight to that cane.” I grab ‘a up from behind before she can fight me. She wrap ‘a arms round my neck and rest ‘a head on my shoulder without a word. We climb them steps together. I hear ‘a sniff heavy then wipe ‘a face with ‘a hands. I feel like crying too.

  I know she won’t be here long. I ain’t ready to let go. Now I realize what the years between us really mean. I see how the body break down, and cain’t begin to understand how much she suffering.

  Still, it don’t stop me from missing ‘a, even as I hold ‘a in my arms. I’m realizing she my best friend. The only person in the world that knows me. All this time I been thinking I’m here to keep her company. Now I see she been keeping me company. When she leave, I’m gone truly be alone.

  We in and out of the four guest bedrooms cause they mostly empty cept for a bed, and window dressings. I leave ‘a room for last. When we step in, I put ‘a down on the bench at the foot of the bed. Examining the room, she sit on it like a throne. I’m proud, cause I’m the one made all ‘a dressers and nightstands for ‘a new electric lamps.

  “Whew wee!” She cheers, looking round nodding ‘a head satisfied. “This room look like a real lady sleepin in here. I ain’t neva seen nothin dis nice fa no nigga in alla mah days. Iain neva thought I would.”

  “And it’s yours.” I’m satisfied that she so pleased. I am so satisfied that she getting a chance to see it. But, I’m shaking my head “no” for some reason. I’m biting my lips and my heart is swelling up in me.

  “Stop it!” Miemay bang ‘a cane and stomp at me. “Don’t chu cry fa me, gull! Ain no reason. I worried boutchu.”

  I catch my breath and I fight the tears. My heart hurting. I want to hide ‘a from death, but it’s coming and I know she bout to tell me. I want time to reverse itself, and start at the moment when she smiled, pleased, and I knew she was moved by this big beautiful master bedroom. Or go back just two years, when she was all bright eyed and sassy.

  “Linny… you ain’t no man,” she say, looking back at the bed behind ‘a, and running ‘a hands over the new mattress.

  I don’t know why she saying that, what it has to do with anything.

  “Ain’t neva gone be no man,” she exhausts, and I’m exhausted, too.

  I want my heart to stop hurting, wont ‘a to stop talking crazy. I just want ‘a to stop talking, cause I’m afraid she gone say it, she dying.

  “Ya ain’t gone neva be nothin without no man. They ain gone neva let no woman be nothin fa all I done seent, and know bout this place.”

  “What?” is all I can muster without breaking into tears. I feel like putting my head in ‘a lap and crying like a helpless child. Feel like she know I’m gone be alone without ‘a, so she saying what everybody else been saying, I need to get me a husband.

  “Ain’t no endins, just beginnins. Ever time ya thank somthin ova anotha thang git goin. Pay attention, so you know when ta end a thang, when ta go, and where ta go. I was glad slavry was over, den Reconstruction wurse. Soon as we get use ta Reconstruction, the Union lef an afta dey go, wurse den anythang I ever seent in mah life. Some days it made me wont ta be a slave agin, but we made it through, now we here. Cain’t believe we made it this long. Never thought Zion would last dis long,” she say, thoughtful.

  “Come ‘ere, sat next ta ya Miemay.” She pat the bench and scoot over.

  When I sit down, she wrap ‘a arm in mine, interlace our fingers, look into my soul and smile sadly.

  “Took mah shoes off the otha day, so Ica put mah feets in the cool grass, keep my spirit settled in dis ol body.

  “Maybe, Ia find the famly I was sold away from. Ain seen mah sistas and brothas since dey was sold. Don’t even know how many I got. The otha night when you woke up and saw dat man at the foot of mah bed, that was mah son Woodrow comin fa me.

  “It’s mah time, been mah time. Spirits been coming ta git me almost a year nah. I pose ta died, like the docta say. Been waitin fa dis house ta be fixed, cause I know if Ida died they what’n gone do what I said, what I wont. Iain seen my mama since I was sold, she walkin round waitin on me. I’m tied Linny. This body tied, it hurt. It’s been hard stayin hur. When Patrick come back, tell ’im ta git mah gulls, let dem walk me home, don’t you do it. They need ta see dis body go, you know mah spirit.”

  Chapter Nine

  THE WALK HOME

  I put another piece of wood in the stove, and poke the fire up, to warm the stew I made earlier. Then I go back and check on Miemay again. She in the bed stirring, and scowling like she in so much pain she might cry. I reach to help ‘a, but she stop me with ‘a eyes. I have to hold my own hands back by putting them together to keep from helping ‘a, it’s hard watching ‘a struggle.

  She moving like a small baby learning to use her arms and legs. Seem like comfort be just one leg this way, or a lean that way, but she seem to be moving against it. Cain’t imagine how I look staring at ‘a, but she say, “Ain nothin youca hep me wit. Been layin down too much is all,” then she frown even more painfully than before and it’s too much. So I walk back to the front, and realize how dark it is in here. How it ain’t never enough light in here sometimes.

  Feeling powerless, I walk out on the porch to get myself together. I’m wiping my eyes, sniffing, and thinking bout God, and death, and heaven, and hell, and Jesus. Think about ‘a alone in the ground in the middle of the night. Think about all the funerals I done been to, where Iain feel nothing, and I was looking at folks cry wondering, but now I understand.

  Disappointed, I cain’t make myself stronger. I feel heavy, exhausted and my legs weak. Some weight pull my butt down hard and fast on the front steps. Seem like my spirit being eaten alive. I lean and rock to stop the hurt. Heaving, I try to hold my head up on the banister. I’m ashamed.

  I bury my head in my lap to hide my face from the night. The night seem to know, and it be louder than me and quiet at the same time. The buzzing locusts and the passing wind in the trees take my sorrow with it.

  After I wipe my face, and look up, the sky grayish blue and the earth wet, but solid. Moon behind so many clouds, seem like it ain’t no moon. I feel how dark it is round Miemay house, and see how the light from ‘a bedroom window spill into the night.

  I inhale the scent of too many cooked meals to count, soaked into ‘a cabin walls and seeping out to mix with the night air. I breathe in the night, slow, and give it back the heat of hurt til I’m still. I breathe out the hurt, til I’m a tree and the wind just passing through my branches.

  That’s when I hear the bubbling of boiling stew. My footsteps in these work boots so loud it echo all through the house. I always wear these, but today, they disturb my peace as I go back in to check on the stew. I feel alone.

  I grab a bowl, use a big spoon, try to get mostly the thick broth out the pot. Take some of the potatoes and carrots then squash ‘im into a mushy soup. Start another pot, put more
of the potage in there, then I take a lil beef and break it up.

  Miemay ain been able to eat nothing too heavy. When I get a thick broth with meat pieces, I make Miemay a bowl. She ain’t ate all day. Not even breakfast, just a little water maybe and she almost choked on that.

  I am a tree. I grab ‘a tray and go back to ‘a room. “Hungry?” I ask just above a whisper. She look like she going in and out of sleep. Her breathing loud. I put the tray on the dresser, then prop ‘a up.

  She go along better this time. Her breathing ease, and it feel like this moment threatening to swallow me whole. I try to think about something else, and be here now. Putting the tray in front of ‘a, I stir the soup.

  She stare back at me hard, like she want me to stop, but I don’t. She look too tired to speak, and I cain’t accept what it mean if she don’t eat this soup.

  Moving ‘a head round, she seem to be tasting ‘a own words, and trying to push ’em out. Finally she say, “Where Patrick?”

  “He be back,” I promise, hoping she will eat. Taking a spoon of the stew, I put it to ‘a mouth. Put a little on ‘a lips like I been doing. I don’t know if it’s the heat or the scent of it make ‘a open ‘a mouth, but she usually do once I do that.

  She don’t open up, she turn ‘a head to me, and my heart drop. I try again, pushing the spoon at ‘a, then she turn ‘a head toward the window and away from me, the spoon and life. Defeated, I drop the spoon back in the bowl, and she turn back facing forward. I wipe the stew from ‘a lips.

  Look like she sweating, her skin got a beautiful glow. It’s a ring round the dark part of ‘a eye look blue, and it’s bright. The grey of ‘a eyes is the moon. I can hear the fire dancing in the lantern on the dresser, and the silence threatening to swallow us whole.

  “When Patrick git back, tell ’im ta git mah gulls. Ya hear?” Her voice going up and down, seem like she digging in ‘aself for some more sound. “Member what I say, ya already done what I wont chu ta do. Don’t be like otha folk puttin off livin waitin ta die and fraid ta go.”