the side of the bed with my head between my knees. I had
fever and cramps and a pain in my head but I thought it would pass in
a day; it’s an amazing thing that young men get any older at
all.
I’d
slept in my clothes, which was lucky because I don’t think I
had the fingers to do buttons and zippers that morning.
Miss
Alexander was wearing a plain white dress with a lace green hat and
William wore a brown suit with black lines crisscrossing it. Momma Jo
was with them. Domaque and Ernestine were behind her. Dom had on the
same overalls he wore when I first met him and Ernestine still had on
the blue dress with the red-brown cows printed on it. She’d
washed that dress though and she had a necklace of tiny red flowers,
the kind of flowers that grew at Domaque’s house.
‘Hi,
Easy,’ Jo said in a soft voice. ‘You look a little tired,
honey.’
‘Hi,
Easy,’ Dom yelled. ‘This here is Ernestine.’
‘Easy,’
she said simply.
I looked
down at her feet; they were still bare.
We all
walked down to the building with the white crosses on the doors and
went in. A woman sat at the front playing an upright piano.
It was a
lively tune but I couldn’t put a name to it. Theresa was there
in a nice violet-and-white dress; she came over and sat next to me. I
recognised almost everybody from the dance at Miss Alexander’s
but I didn’t remember any names so I just nodded when people
said hello.
The room
was almost full, about sixty souls there. A big woman and a shrimpy
little man went up to the piano and started singing hymns. There was
a hymnal underneath each chair and, one by one, people lifted them
and started to sing along. I didn’t because I have a bad voice
and I just didn’t feel up to it.
When I
heard the door open in the middle of ‘Sweet Baby Jesus,’
I turned around to see who it was.
The chill
I felt when I saw daddyReese was the cold that a corpse might feel.
He wasn’t
the same Reese that I had seen a few days before. That Reese was a
powerful man, that Reese had muscle like black iron and a thick mane
of nappy black hair. But the Reese who walked through that door on
Sunday was an old man. His arms and chest sagged down like flab but
he wasn’t fat; he must’ve dropped ten pounds in those few
days, I’d never seen a man lose weight so fast. His hair was
sprinkled with white, not gray. He was stooped, just a little, and
when he walked he had a slight limp.
Some men
believe in evil. They’ve seen so much of it in the world and in
themselves that it becomes a part of what they know as truth. And
when you believe in it the way daddyReese must have, you open
yourself up to people preying on that fear. The strength of hatred
turns to weakness.
But with
all that Reese was bowed - he wasn’t broken. He was wearing a
black suit, the old kind that my grandfather wore with five buttons
on the jacket. He had a starched, high-collar white shirt and a hat
kind of like a bowler.
When he
saw me I thought he was going to come in my direction but just then
Jo turned to see what I was looking at and that changed Reese’s
mind. He took a chair in the back.
Just about
then the minister entered the room. Reverend Peters was a fat man
with a wide mouth and a black suit; he strode down the middle aisle
shaking hands and saying good morning to the people he passed. He was
bristling with energy, the kind of man that pious women have sinful
dreams about. The kind of man who feels so confident that other men
don’t like him too well.
‘Mornin’,
brothers and sisters!’ he shouted.
‘Mornin’,
reverend,’ said an old woman in a raspberry dress. She was
sitting right up front.
‘Yes,
it is a good morning. Every one of God’s mornings is a good
one.’
‘Mmmmm-hm!
That’s a truf,’ the old woman said.
‘And
the only thing that’s a bad mornin’ is a mornin’
that you wake up an’ you don’t find Jesus in your heart.’
‘Yes,
Lord!’ That was Miss Alexander.
‘Oh,
yeah! When you wake
fever and cramps and a pain in my head but I thought it would pass in
a day; it’s an amazing thing that young men get any older at
all.
I’d
slept in my clothes, which was lucky because I don’t think I
had the fingers to do buttons and zippers that morning.
Miss
Alexander was wearing a plain white dress with a lace green hat and
William wore a brown suit with black lines crisscrossing it. Momma Jo
was with them. Domaque and Ernestine were behind her. Dom had on the
same overalls he wore when I first met him and Ernestine still had on
the blue dress with the red-brown cows printed on it. She’d
washed that dress though and she had a necklace of tiny red flowers,
the kind of flowers that grew at Domaque’s house.
‘Hi,
Easy,’ Jo said in a soft voice. ‘You look a little tired,
honey.’
‘Hi,
Easy,’ Dom yelled. ‘This here is Ernestine.’
‘Easy,’
she said simply.
I looked
down at her feet; they were still bare.
We all
walked down to the building with the white crosses on the doors and
went in. A woman sat at the front playing an upright piano.
It was a
lively tune but I couldn’t put a name to it. Theresa was there
in a nice violet-and-white dress; she came over and sat next to me. I
recognised almost everybody from the dance at Miss Alexander’s
but I didn’t remember any names so I just nodded when people
said hello.
The room
was almost full, about sixty souls there. A big woman and a shrimpy
little man went up to the piano and started singing hymns. There was
a hymnal underneath each chair and, one by one, people lifted them
and started to sing along. I didn’t because I have a bad voice
and I just didn’t feel up to it.
When I
heard the door open in the middle of ‘Sweet Baby Jesus,’
I turned around to see who it was.
The chill
I felt when I saw daddyReese was the cold that a corpse might feel.
He wasn’t
the same Reese that I had seen a few days before. That Reese was a
powerful man, that Reese had muscle like black iron and a thick mane
of nappy black hair. But the Reese who walked through that door on
Sunday was an old man. His arms and chest sagged down like flab but
he wasn’t fat; he must’ve dropped ten pounds in those few
days, I’d never seen a man lose weight so fast. His hair was
sprinkled with white, not gray. He was stooped, just a little, and
when he walked he had a slight limp.
Some men
believe in evil. They’ve seen so much of it in the world and in
themselves that it becomes a part of what they know as truth. And
when you believe in it the way daddyReese must have, you open
yourself up to people preying on that fear. The strength of hatred
turns to weakness.
But with
all that Reese was bowed - he wasn’t broken. He was wearing a
black suit, the old kind that my grandfather wore with five buttons
on the jacket. He had a starched, high-collar white shirt and a hat
kind of like a bowler.
When he
saw me I thought he was going to come in my direction but just then
Jo turned to see what I was looking at and that changed Reese’s
mind. He took a chair in the back.
Just about
then the minister entered the room. Reverend Peters was a fat man
with a wide mouth and a black suit; he strode down the middle aisle
shaking hands and saying good morning to the people he passed. He was
bristling with energy, the kind of man that pious women have sinful
dreams about. The kind of man who feels so confident that other men
don’t like him too well.
‘Mornin’,
brothers and sisters!’ he shouted.
‘Mornin’,
reverend,’ said an old woman in a raspberry dress. She was
sitting right up front.
‘Yes,
it is a good morning. Every one of God’s mornings is a good
one.’
‘Mmmmm-hm!
That’s a truf,’ the old woman said.
‘And
the only thing that’s a bad mornin’ is a mornin’
that you wake up an’ you don’t find Jesus in your heart.’
‘Yes,
Lord!’ That was Miss Alexander.
‘Oh,
yeah! When you wake
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