The Mighty Miss Malone

by Christopher Paul Curtis

  “And take three of the deepest breaths that you can, three’s a magic number and if you breathe deep three times you ain’t got no choice but relaxing.”

  By the third breath I had to smile. Even though I’d pulled three giant puffs of stinking, smoky air into me it worked and I was a lot calmer.

  Now that my eyes were used to the dark I peeked from behind the chairs to get a look around the inside of the New Turned Leaf. It was more like a cave instead of a room! There must have been ten other round tables full of people spread out across one half of the place.

  The other half of the room was empty for a bit, then there was a piano, a set of drums, a giant fiddle, a beautiful, shining gold saxophone and a microphone. Seeing the microphone gave me hope, maybe, just maybe, Jimmie was singing here.

  I began noticing other things in the room. On one side was a swinging door with a round window and each time the door swung open kitchen sounds joined with the voices in the speakeasy. Women were going in and out. Mother would say their clothes were scandalous, their skirts didn’t seem to be much more than a couple of handkerchiefs sewn together. The skirts flapped and sparkled in the light.

  There was just as little to their blouses. Their shoulders and arms were bare like movie stars in Hollywood magazines.

  I nearly jumped out of my shoes when a loud boom came from the stage.

  Lights came on and four men were sitting on the stage with instruments in their hands.

  My heart sank. No Jimmie.

  People started clapping and a little cheer went up.

  The musicians started playing and I was shocked!

  I’d heard music on the radio and in moving picture theaters before, but this was different. It was beautiful and warm and went right into my body!

  The man at the piano said into a microphone, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us this evening in beautiful Dee-troit, Michigan!”

  I guess all Michigan people are like Father, they seem to be very proud of where they’re from, the loudest cheer came when the man said “Detroit.”

  People bounced their heads up and down and snapped their fingers and smiled like a whole herd of Cheshire cats.

  When the first song was done the crowd whistled and clapped.

  The man said, “Thank you so much. And now, what you’ve all been waiting for, our featured vocalist …”

  The people stood up and cheered and screamed and banged their hands on the table and stomped their feet and made the house shake.

  He said, “Originally from Lancaster, Pennsylvania …”

  Lancaster! I screamed like the people did when they heard “Detroit”!

  A curtain split in the middle and a man in a beautiful blue suit with a pair of two-tone blue shoes and a matching blue hat stood with his head bowed. His face was completely covered by the brim of the blue hat. He was holding on to a microphone.

  I froze. Maybe this man was going to introduce Jimmie.

  The drum banged. The people cheered louder. The drum banged one more time and the music stopped.

  The man kept his head down and raised the microphone to his mouth. He waited and waited.

  I stopped breathing.

  Then a clear, strong voice sang, “More or less resigned to crying over Angela …” The band jumped in, the crowd screamed louder and I found out for a fact that I am not a swooner, because if there was anything in the world that could make you swoon, it was the air of the New Turned Leaf, the music of this band and the voice of the Genuine, Gentle Jumpin’ Giant, Jimmie Malone!

  He looked up from under the blue hat and sang,

  “I watched my heart leave the station

  The day she said we were no more.…”

  It was Jimmie! In a suit!

  Jimmie sang two songs and the crowd never calmed down. I raised my hand, hoping he’d see me but knowing it was impossible. I came out from behind the chairs. People were too busy staring at Jimmie to notice me, maybe if I got to the front of the room …

  I was this close to Jimmie when the man who had been standing outside by the door stepped in front of me like a wall. “How’d you get in here? Let’s go.”

  He left his gut wide open.

  I know it was wrong, but I twisted my hips and swung as hard as I could. My fist crumpled against him and pain shot through my arm like a epiphany.

  He looked at me like I was a mosquito. He reached at me and I screamed as loud as I could.

  People around us jumped back like we were on fire. The band and Jimmie stopped and moved off the stage through the curtain.

  Three other big, square men were just-like-that standing around me.

  The only sound was people’s shoes as they shuffled to the door I’d snuck in through.

  I yelled, “Jimmie!”

  The first man lifted me like I was as light as a pillow.

  “Jimmie!”

  Through the microphone I heard, “Sis?”

  The curtain opened and Jimmie stood there without his hat.

  “Fellas, hold on, that’s my sister.”

  He said, “Folks, please, please have a seat, we’ll start the show in a minute. Please don’t go.”

  The man I’d slugged put me down as Jimmie jumped off the stage and grabbed me.

  We cried and cried. “Aw, sis, it’s so good to see you!”

  I said, “Jimmie, I missed you so much.”

  He walked me onto the stage and through the curtain to a stool. “Let me take care of my business, Deza, sit here till I’m done.”

  The band started up and it looked like they weren’t ever going to stop. Four times, after they finished playing and stood up, people yelled and stomped until Jimmie did another song. When someone finally came and moved the drums and instruments off the stage, a white man smoking a cigar took Jimmie’s hat and walked around the crowd.

  People started tossing in coins and even some folding money!

  Jimmie grabbed me. “Come on, sis, I live just around the way, we’ve got a lot to catch up on. I see you’re still the Mighty Miss Malone, I can’t believe you slugged Tito like that!”

  Jimmie and me and the band went out the back door and got into a car just as marvelous as Marvin’s. It wasn’t a Buke, but it was great!

  Chapter Thirty

  Father’s Feet of Clay

  It was so strange, but as me and Jimmie stood in his little room I didn’t really know what to say.

  I didn’t want to start in scolding him, but I couldn’t help it. “Why are you calling yourself Jones, what’s wrong with being a Malone?”

  “It don’t mean nothing, sis. Mr. Maxwell thought Jimmie Malone sounded like a white Irish guy’s name, he thought it might confuse people, thought more folks would come if they knew what I really am.”

  “You gave up our name?”

  “It don’t mean nothing. Us musicians change our names all the time.”

  “And James Edward Malone, you knew we were in Flint, you were only sixty miles away! You couldn’t write to us or come see us to let us know you were OK? Do you have any idea how we’ve worried about you for all this time? Why wouldn’t you at least send a letter?”

  “Aw, sis, you see where I’m living and working, what would Ma say about me making money in speakeasies? It was better that she didn’t hear nothing from me until I got things right.”

  “You were going to throw us away that easy?”

  “Aww, Deza, you know that’s not true, I was gonna write before much longer.”

  He cleared his throat and said, “Deza, I gotta tell you something I’ve been carrying around with me and after I done lots of thinking it’s only fair you know.”

  Oh, no.

  He said, “I promised Pa I’d never tell anyone about this, Deza, especially you and Ma. But I think it’s the right thing to break my word.” He looked so sad and serious I could tell this was something I didn’t want to hear. But I had to. I sat down.

  “Go ahead, Jimmie.”

  “It’
s about Pa, and it’s going to be a surprise.”

  I smiled. “OK, you tell me what you know about him first, then it’s my turn. We’ll see who’s most surprised.”

  “Sis, this is serious.”

  Jimmie looked so sad that I wondered if he really did know something terrible about Father. I grabbed the arms of the one chair in the room and sat in it. “Well, kiddo, here it is.” I bit the second brain quiet.

  “You remember Pa’s story about being trapped out on Lake Michigan?”

  I nodded.

  Jimmie looked at me hard. “Swear you’ll never tell Ma this.”

  I nodded again.

  “Pa told me what really happened on the lake. It was the last thing he told me when he came to my room that night he left. He lied to us, Deza.”

  I got out of the chair so quick that it fell over. I turned my back on him and walked to the door. He blocked my way.

  We stood that way for what seemed like forever. I looked down into my brother’s eyes. I could smell cigarettes and something else foul on his breath. Just like Dolly Peaches and the guy named Tito, he left his belly wide open. I clenched my left fist and was getting ready to sink it into his stomach when he touched my arm and said, “Please, Deza, I’m sorry I said it like that, but I have to tell you.”

  I opened my fist the second time he said, “Please?”

  I turned and set the chair back up. But I didn’t sit. “Father lied?”

  “Everything about them going out in the boat was true. The lies started right after the fog came in.”

  I sat down.

  “Pa said everything went good until they’d been on the lake for a couple of hours. That’s when someone noticed a huge fog bank further out on the lake. Pa and Mr. Henderson thought they should go back in, but they were catching so many fish that the other guys wanted to wait awhile longer.

  “Mr. Henderson finally had had enough and started to pull up the anchor. But somehow the anchor had come off the rope and they’d been drifting. No one knew for how long. When they looked toward shore they couldn’t see it. Then the fog bank rolled over them.”

  Jimmie sniffled. I stayed quiet, wanting to hear and not wanting to hear at the same time.

  “Pa didn’t know how long they were in the fog bank, but a lot later they heard a ship. They could even see the light from it. They cheered and screamed, thinking they were gonna get rescued. But the ship came right at them and they had to row like mad to get out of its way.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand.

  “The ship missed them, but it sent out a wave that rocked the boat so hard that it just about tipped them over. They were all soaked except for Mr. Williams. At first they laughed because it was such a close call, but they noticed that the oars were gone and soon Pa and the guys who got wet started getting cold and shivering. Pa said being cold and scared did something to them and …”

  Jimmie sniffled again.

  “After they drifted for hours and hours Mr. Coulter’s eyes got really big and were shooting from side to side in his head. He started talking nonsense and wondering why Mr. Williams was the only one who wasn’t wet. He said Mr. Williams must’ve planned this to get all of them killed.”

  Jimmie stopped. I didn’t want to talk or do anything to stop him from telling me what really happened.

  “Pa said that’s when Mr. Coulter jumped up and grabbed Mr. Williams around the throat and they both fell overboard, tipping the boat over. Pa said he thinks it was the cold, it had to be the cold. He said they lost their minds, that being scared and cold made them kind of crazy. That’s why when the boat tipped and Pa went underwater he thought about how easy it would be just to stay there and die. But he thought about us, Deza, he thought about our family and knew he had to fight to the end. He scratched and clawed and finally got back to the upside-down boat.

  “First thing he saw was Mr. Steel Lung. Father grabbed him and they hung on to the boat. Father tied the yellow anchor rope around their wrists so they wouldn’t fall asleep and fall off.

  “He said that every once in a while he’d wake up and remember he was still hungry, cold and scared. He started hearing voices and seeing things. He thought Ma was whispering to him and saying over and over, ‘My job? My job? You think you gonna take my job?’

  “Then Ma takes the anchor rope and wraps it around Pa’s neck. Pa fights back and sees that it isn’t Ma at all, his senses clear and he sees it’s been Steel Lung hollering at him. He’s untied the rope from around his wrist and is choking Pa with it.

  “Steel Lung screams, ‘Taking food out my babies’ mouths? You think I’ma lay down and let that happen? We’ll see who dies out here!’ ”

  Each time my heart beat it felt like it was getting smaller and smaller.

  Jimmie said, “Pa got the rope off but Mr. Steel Lung wasn’t through, he got one of the oarlocks and started swinging it at Pa.

  “Pa said he begged him to stop, he told him, ‘No one’s going to take your job, brother. It’s me, Roscoe.’

  “But Mr. Steel Lung screamed, ‘Get off my boat!’ and kept swinging. He was so weak that he couldn’t get a good hit in, so Pa just covered his head hoping he’d tire himself out. He finally stopped.

  “Pa moved his arms off his head and looked up, but that was what Mr. Steel Lung was waiting for, he swung one more time and caught Pa right in the mouth. He knew his teeth had been broken out.”

  I couldn’t move, it was horrible hearing the truth.

  Jimmie said, “Steel Lung got his hands around Pa’s throat.…”

  Jimmie covered his face and cried through his fingers. “What choice did Pa have? He wasn’t trying to hurt him, he hit him with the oarlock. Not hard. Just once. Once.”

  I told Jimmie, “Father didn’t do anything wrong, Mr. Steel Lung was trying to kill him.”

  “Next thing Pa remembered was waking up on that ship heading to Chicago.”

  Jimmie’s eyes were red and swollen. “That’s it, sis, that’s what happened on Lake Michigan. That’s why Pa left, he wasn’t looking for no job, he was running away, he was looking for somewhere to run off and finish. Finish dying.”

  “No!”

  “I’m sorry, Deza.”

  “You’re wrong. Maybe he felt bad for a while, but he got work! That’s why I’ve been looking for you. We can get back together, Father’s sent us money! Father’s OK! Look!”

  I took Father’s letter out of my pocketbook. Jimmie took it and said, “That’s great, sis.” There wasn’t any excitement or happiness in his voice. “Does Ma know you’re down here?”

  “I left her a note.”

  Then to hurt him I said, “Just like you did. Saw-Bone said you might be here and I had to come tell you we heard from Father! We can go back home and be a family again.”

  “That’s great, but I’ma have to stay here for a while, working, then I’m back to traveling. We can talk about it later. You gotta go back to Flint. Maybe I can get someone to give you a ride, that’s a pretty long trip.”

  I was too tired to fight anymore. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t as excited about Father as I had been, or as I was now about finding him.

  “Come on, Deza, we’ve got a lot to talk about and catch up on. But now it’s sleepy-bye time for you.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Jimmie’s World

  The next morning I was dreaming about Father. He was in a beautiful suit and tie and was standing in my doorway back in Gary. I’d never seen Father in a suit.

  “Deza?” he said. “Are you going to let a gorgeous day like today get away from you?”

  “Oh, Father, you’re not going to believe it! I found Jim—”

  I jerked awake and looked at the door. It was Jimmie.

  He did look a lot like Father, just smaller. “Get dressed, we’re going out, I got a surprise for you, but you gotta hurry.”

  I rubbed my eyes. “Jimmie, where are we going? I’ll look all raggedy next to you.”

  “You look fine,
but if you want, I’ll go put on some walkin’-round clothes.”

  I remember what he said when I wore my blue gingham dress. “Nah, Jimmie, you are one sure-enough sharp scrap of calico in that suit!”

  “Deza! That’s something you only say to girls! But thanks anyway.”

  I got dressed and cleaned up and we started down the stairs.

  The white man who took all the money that people put in Jimmie’s hat was sitting on a couch.

  “Jim-Jim! Great show. Outstanding!”

  “Thank you, Mr. Maxwell.”

  “And who’s the beautiful young lady?”

  “This is my sister, Deza.”

  “Delighted, delighted. Does she sing too?”

  “Deza don’t need to sing, she’s gonna go to college!”

  “Good for you, girly.”

  I was happy Jimmie pulled me by the elbow out of the front door.

  “Who is he, Jimmie?”

  “That’s my manager, he’s like my boss. He’s the one that give me a contract.”

  “A contract?”

  “It means he has to give me money for singing.”

  “You’re kidding! That money people put in your hat last night was for you?”

  “Naw, that’s the tip money, he takes it and divides it up with me and him and the band. I’m suppose to get fifteen dollars plus room and board on top of that.”

  “Fifteen dollars? Every month?”

  Jimmie had us turn at the corner. “Naw, Deza, every week!”

  We walked out on a huge busy street called Woodward Avenue.

  So many people in Detroit knew Jimmie! Near every person we passed stopped to speak!

  One old man said, “When y’all going back to Chicago, Jim?”

  “ ’Bout two weeks, I expect, Mr. Pierce.”

  “I need you to take a message to my brother, if you don’t mind.”

  “No problem, write it down, though, you know I ain’t got the best memory.”

  “See you in a bit, Jim.”

  Three very tall, breathtaking women wearing gorgeous hats stopped us. One of them said, “What’s this, poppa? You know how jealous I get, who is she and what is she to you?”