by Deborah Emin
Mama says, Come on Scags, get your hands washed, we’re going to eat now.
I scoot off Pops’ lap and run to the kitchen sink. Mama says to me in a whisper, It’s not polite to stick your face into someone else’s. I shrug okay and make my hands all soapy then clap them and watch the bubbles fly.
Odessa says, Funny Face, I’d like to go home sometime soon. Odessa has to wait until we finish eating so she can clean up and then Mama takes her to the train station. We eat dinner not too quickly because it is so good, but then before we know it Odessa and Mama are leaving.
Pops and I sit at the now empty table. He has lit up one of his little cigars, a Schimmelpfennig. It smells like burnt gingerbread. If I could catch one of the smoke rings Pops makes and put it in my mouth, it would crunch between my teeth.
Scags, Pops says but he is not looking at me but out the window at the spot by the door where the wind catches.
What is it Pops?
He looks so hard away from me. I need to get up from my chair and go to him. I stick to the seat and it sounds like I’m tearing my skin off when I get up.
I stand next to him. He stares out the window and I try and see what he is looking at but I can’t figure it out. Then he says, Metal has no memory.
What do you mean?
He sticks his cigar in his mouth. It has a long ash that pulses. He puts two hands on the table and grabs the metal frame and says, If you break it, it doesn’t know how to fix itself.
I say, You mean it doesn’t remember how it used to be?
Pops says, Very good Scags. He lets go of the table and wraps me up in himself. He smells of smoke and coffee, milky coffee the color of wood. He sets his cigar down, holds onto me and stands up, tosses me in the air and with my feet in the air I walk the ceiling until his arms get tired. I settle back down in his lap, my nose on his chin and it is nice this way.
4
Odessa
F irst thing when Odessa arrives, she puts up the coffee for Pops and Mama, then calls me down to her. I am all dressed by myself, I’m brushing my teeth. The toothpaste makes me smile. Odessa calls, Little one, are you ready, don’t make me climb those stairs yet. I rinse out my mouth, grab my towel for a fast wipe and pick up my hairbrush and the elastics and run down to her. I hear Pops in his bathroom. The shower is pounding him and he is singing: When the Saints Go Marching In.
In the kitchen I find Odessa, in her white dress, white apron and white shoes. Her eyebrows are raised in surprise as she looks through the refrigerator shelves for the strawberries. But she won’t find them. Pops and I ate them up last night before I went to bed.
What’s the difference between the South Side and the south? I ask Odessa. She stands up and closes the refrigerator, shakes her head from side to side and then laughs at me. I smell her sweat like the air before a storm. Odessa takes my hairbrush out of my hand, and we go where we go every morning, to the table where Odessa sits in Mama’s chair to brush my long, long, long red hair that finds a million ways to get tangled, as if little fairies tie it up while I’m sleeping. I once dreamed one of them stood next to my bed and said, Wake up Scags, come to me Scags. I reached out my arm to him and woke up grabbing air.
Odessa says, Why don’t you know the difference between the South Side of Chicago and the south of Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia? I came from the south, Odessa says, from Mississippi and I ended up on the South Side. Odessa comes a long way up to us everyday but Sunday. Her friend Maria drives her up in a big old beat up Ford. Going home though she has to take two trains and a bus because Mama keeps her with us longer than the Rappaports keep Maria.
Stand still, Odessa says, as she yanks, hurts me but when she’s done I will have a neat ponytail that keeps me from boiling in this heat. It swings back and forth when I walk. Pops likes to pull on it, yank my head back, and give me a kiss on the tip of my nose.
Pops comes into the kitchen just when Odessa finishes with my hair. Pops looks at me and says, How’s my sweet patutti fruity?
Odessa says, I’ve got your coffee ready but someone ate up all those strawberries I cleaned yesterday.
Pops says to Odessa, I confess.
Me too, I say.
Pops goes to his spot at the table and sits down. He says to me, That razzmatazz smile going to get you a whole lot of jazz. Odessa and I both laugh. Pops says, Don’t laugh, I’m waking up my vocal chords. I’ve got to be excited and smart, a fast talker and a man on time to make those customers sit up and listen.
Pops wears his brown suit, brown loafers, and brown socks. He slowly eats his cereal without strawberries. He looks so handsome with his hair slicked back, his black glasses sitting on his nose. His fingers on his left hand are beating out a tune but I don’t know what it is. I say, What’s that you’re tapping out?
Before Pops finishes what’s in his mouth, Odessa sings out all the words as if she were climbing that stairway to paradise. You could see her making her way to the top of it as she moved from my chair to Pops’.
Pops puts down his spoon and claps and says, Very good Odessa. Excellent singing. Crisp articulation. Don’t you think Odessa sang that well? Pops asks, Don’t you think Odessa has a great set of pipes? He taps me on the shoulder. I look at him sitting with the sun in his glasses and a smile on his face.
Pops asks, Don’t you feel chipper this a.m.?
What’s an a.m.? I ask.
He says, Ante midi, a.m., before noon, and p.m. is post midi, after noon. See Scags you can learn in and out of school.
Yeah, I say, not wanting to do anything but play. Can I go out now? Pops says, Do what you do, do what you do. He jumps up from the table, standing he drinks his light, light coffee. Sets the cup down and leaves. He is gone. It is so quiet. I have the whole day to play and tonight is Friday night, the night Odessa stays with me all night while Mama and Pops go out with their friends. Odessa and I and maybe Julia will listen to Louis Armstrong records and Ella Fitzgerald, all cozy in my room.
There are two beds but I listen to the music snug up tight on my bed with Odessa. She is so soft, filled up with the music and humming under her breath. I feel the vibrations in her chest. Sometimes she says, I could have done that, when Ella sings low. I love this music coming out of Odessa. So does Julia who gets up and dances, her blonde ponytail swinging back and forth. We can all lie on my bed, the three of us. When Julia goes home, Odessa helps me get ready for bed. She gets into the other bed and hums Billie Holiday songs, but they seem so sad I have to fall asleep.
5
At the Beach with Mama and Aunt Money
P ops has to work this Saturday afternoon, so Mama and I are going to meet Aunt Money at Ardmore Beach. Mama is in her bedroom, naked. I like to see Mama without her clothes on. First thing that comes into my mind is I’m going to look like her when I grow up. Mama doesn’t like me to stare at her, so the second thing I think is, look fast. Mama has a long skinny body, dark skin and a big belly button. Her tushy is kind of big, too. When I look at her I think I would like to swim into her arms and rest my cheek on her shoulder and stay like that for a million years. Keen-o.
Scags, Mama says, because she caught me staring at her, put on your suit and sandals, I’ll get everything else. She bends down to pull up her suit. I run to my room, past the jar of snails and try to remember where Odessa put my new white suit with the flowers on it. Mama, I call, I don’t know where my suit is. Mama comes into my room and naturally it is in the first place she looks.
When we get to the beach, I walk with all my toys to the spot we usually go to. There is Aunt Money with an umbrella up and a couple of seats and a big white towel over her so that she gets no sun on her at all. It’s kind of chilly right now. The umbrella swings and whips in the wind. Not too many people are here yet. I know the water is going to be cold and I think, look at those big waves crashing so hard they could break the ground.
I be
nd over Aunt Money and give her a big wet one. She goes, Scaaags, and we both giggle. She has her hair tied up under a white hat and even here at the beach she looks pretty and smells good. I drop all my toys at her feet. She wiggles her red toe nails. Mama says, Let me put some lotion on you, because your skin is even whiter than Aunt Money’s. I sit down next to Mama. She squeezes out some white stuff and rubs me all over. I love the coldness on my shoulders and get goose bumps.
I jump up, grab my bucket and run to the shore where Lake Michigan makes such a noise. A lifeguard with a big gob of white goop on his nose and the reddest shoulders I’ve ever seen comes over to me and says, You can’t go in today. I ask, Why not? He says something about an undertoad and sometimes that happens in Lake Michigan. Giant frogs love the bottom of the lake, Pops has told me, and you have to be very careful. I run back to Mama and say, I can’t go swimming today, there is an undertoad. Aunt Money laughs and says, Undertow not undertoad. I ask, What does that mean? Aunt Money takes my hand and pulls me down onto her lap.
An undertow, she says, is when there is a strong current at the bottom of the water that sucks everything and everyone to the center of the lake and you can drown. Really? I say. How does that happen? Aunt Money pushes the tip of my nose and says, It has something to do with wind, moon, tides. I’m no scientist. I jump off her lap and say, Wind, moon, tides. An undertow. I’ll have to ask Pops about this. He’ll know.
I can tell that Mama and Aunt Money have been talking about things they think I don’t understand, because Mama has her Scags-should-be-seen-not-heard look on. So I say, Aunt Money do you have a boyfriend?
Aunt Money lets out one of her big howls that sounds high then low like a hiccough turning into a burp. Scags, Aunt Money asks, what kind of woman would I be if I didn’t have a boyfriend?
Mama says, Scags, how about sitting here without asking all your questions? I sit down between Mama and Aunt Money and show Mama I am zipping my lips.
Mama says, Money, I thought you got rid of that man.
Aunt Money says, I had to take him back. It broke my heart to see how easily he could get along without me. Mama and Aunt Money laugh but I don’t see what’s so funny.
Money turns to Mama and says, Let’s bury Scags. I ask, What for? Aunt Money says, Just from the waist down. Come on, it’ll be fun. Aunt Money pulls her towel back and begins to dig at the sand with my green shovel. I say, I really don’t like this game. Mama says, Don’t worry, we won’t leave you. She takes my bucket and scoops piles and piles of sand away. Aunt Money leans over the hole and I can see her breasts. They are bigger than Mama’s and as white as snow. I want to fall into them as if they were drifts, as if the world was one big snowbank and I could fall into it and not be cold.
Aunt Money says, Come sit here, pointing to the big hole. It’s not very deep but wet, a little like getting into the bathtub. I slip into the spot and they cover me with lots of sand. My arms are free. When I wiggle my toes the sand cracks so Mama pats it down again. I sit still. Mama and Aunt Money sit back and turn to each other.
Mama says, You know Money, no one in your family likes you to be with this colored man.
I turn my head to look at Aunt Money. She has a sly smile on her face. I know that smile. Pops has that smile. I say, You smile just like Pops when he has a secret.
Oh yeah, Aunt Money says, and turns to Mama and says, Smart kid.
Mama says, Sometimes too smart. Look Money, I just want you to be happy and if this colored man—
Aunt Money says, Burdette, Burdette Williams.
I ask, What kind of name is Burdette?
Mama says, Scags, remember what I said about keeping quiet? I nod yes and wonder why doesn’t Mama let me talk, I’m here too. I lean my head back and close my eyes. I wander back and forth between being at the top of the waves and then skip around in my head to Mama’s and Aunt Money’s voices. I hear the hard fist of the lake on the sand. I don’t care that Aunt Money has a colored boyfriend. Mama tells her that she can’t bring him over, because what would the neighbors think and then I really am asleep. Big blue waves cut big chunks out of a big blue sky and throw them hard and harder until I have to run from the undertoads in my overshoes. I’m spinning and spinning. Their voices are so soft and cool, back and forth with the waves knocking them over. I see writing in the sand—MAN, COLORED MAN—and hear Odessa sing, Oh my man I love him so but he’ll never know—and what is Odessa doing here? I wake up. The two of them are gone—oh my—I pull and push out of the sand. Once I’m out of that hole I turn to the Lake. There they are. I run to the water and push myself between them. They are like sisters. Mama takes one hand, Aunt Money the other. They swing me back and forth over the white foam on the waves and I say keen-o and want to give each of them a big wet one.
6
Julia Says
S ummer is hot, it is always hot. Sometimes the day is so hot that the sky turns white as if the sun has melted all the clouds. Bright. It hurts my eyes. Julia and I are in her bedroom where Julia is strumming on her guitar and I am beating out the beat on the bongos. I think summer is for having fun. Julia is sort of playing the guitar, her mother taught her some songs, and on her face is her look. I know that look, that I-don’t-want-to-have-to-do-anything look.
Lying in the sun, I think, would be okay if Julia wants to use her slip and slide to cool off on. I say, How about that slip and slide? Julia gets a big-eyed grin on her face, so that where at first she seemed so lazy, now she seems full of beans. She jumps off her bed, opens her bottom dresser drawer, pulls out one of her old, too small bathing suits to give to me, a navy blue one with big white buttons to hold the straps up. She takes out a new one for herself, pink and orange, that shows off her tan.
We quickly pull off our clothes even our shoes and socks and leave them in a pile at the foot of each bed in Julia’s room. Julia goes to the linen closet in the hallway and pulls out two towels. She hands me a big brown one that smells so fresh like the sun soaked it through and through and is so soft like the fur on Mama’s winter coat. We’re going to lie on them on Julia’s patio.
We run outside, yelling Yah, Yah, Yah, past Mrs. Arthur, who has red hair and freckles just like me. She asks, what’s going on? Julia tells her and she says, Scags, I’ll be right out with some lotion for you. Sit under the umbrella, she says.
We race out the back door, down the walk to the patio. The cement is so hot on the bottoms of my feet that I run fast on my toes like a ballet dancer getting quickly across the floor. I jump onto the nearest chair.
The patio is a square on the side of the Arthurs’ house. Around it are a couple of oak trees with a garden separating it from the grass. Its floor is covered with big rectangular slabs of green and pink stones. Grass grows between them, around them, through them like the hair in Mr. Arthur’s ears. Julia gets the hose and sprays her feet. Now that I am settled on the lawn chair, my feet barely remember the heat.
Get under the umbrella, Julia says, you don’t want to burn up and get sick. I think, yes I do, I’ll get so sick that Julia can’t go away, that she’ll have to sit in my room, holding my hand as I go closer and closer to death. I pull my chair under the umbrella. I’m too young to die.
The light is so white and it hasn’t rained in days. The snap dragons, roses, and geraniums wait for the rain, all drooping a bit with the weight of the heat, the curse of heat as Odessa says. This a-cursed heat, she says and wipes her face with her apron. The heat is with us because it’s summer time, I think, and if it wasn’t such a great time to be hot, to sweat and stink and need a bath every night before going to bed, if the grass wasn’t green and the sky blue and the earth black, what fun would it be?
Mrs. Arthur comes outside wearing her yellow halter top and green short shorts. She’s carrying a big pitcher of iced tea, a tube of suntan lotion and a magazine. Her skin looks as white as mine. She lies down under the umbrella too while Julia pulls out the s
lip and slide. I close my eyes and the colors are so bright and move so fast behind my eyelids that I open my eyes very fast and even with them open I see the pinpoints of red, orange, purple, yellow float in the air. Mrs. Arthur sits up, squeezes the lotion out of the tube onto my back and arms, legs, chest, face. It feels so nice to have her touch me, the lotion is cold, her fingers are strong and can wrap themselves around my arms. You are like a bird, she says, all fine and fragile. When she’s done, I lie back down. The smell of lotion mixes with the scent of the heat and flowers. It smells like I could eat it but I’m sure the smell is better than the taste.
Julia says, Come on Scags, do it, slip and slide yourself. The red plastic slide lays flat on the grass. Julia has the hose on it, turned on hard, and when you fall on it, you slide all the way to the end of it. I jump up out of the chair, dance over the floor, jump over the little garden and run and run, race my legs harder and harder until I fly over the ground until my legs can’t run any harder. Then out I go like a diver off a board, I sail up and then down on my belly, so hard, so hard that the wind is knocked out of me. I twist and shake all the way down the red plastic slide, the water in my eyes, mouth, even ears. I try hard to get my breath back but I’m giggling too hard to breathe right.
Julia is standing at the end. Her hair is all in little clumps. She’s got her hands over her mouth as she jumps from one leg to the other. You goose, she says, you have to bend over to land on your stomach, not jump up. She laughs and laughs and I sit on the grass, catching my breath. I say, Oh yeah, I forgot.
We run and slide, run and slide. The water goes up my nose sometimes and into my eyes. Mrs. Arthur finally gets up and goes inside. Now we have the patio all to ourselves. Julia turns off the water and we splash the puddles on the slide at each other. Let’s have some tea, I say, and give Julia one last splash with my feet and then run to the patio.