sets he kept at home. Could still remember the shiny gold edges of those fancy encyclopedias and the snow-white pages that felt like cotton sheets. I used to mix up the volumes and then put them in order as fast as I could, A to Z. Maybe I couldn’t make my daddy stick around, but I could put the whole world in order in ten seconds flat, let me tell you.
Later on, my daddy gave up selling books and joined one of the Negro League’s baseball teams, so he was gonethen too. I remember how I always tried hiding in his automobile before he left, hoping he’d forget and take me along with him.
It never worked.
“You in here, Levi?” he’d holler, and pretend to look everywhere. Tap on the hood loudly. Blow the horn. Look under the seats. Then, after he found me curled up in the back—where I always was—he’d pick me up and throw my puny self over his shoulder. I could still recall the minty aftershave scent of his neck as I bounced along, teeth rattling, miles above the ground. He’d carry me up to the front steps of Granny’s apartment building, plop me next to her, and leave us sitting in a cloud of mint. Funny how I recalled that smell more strongly than anything. How my daddy had a mint-smelling neck and arms the color of buckeyes. What stupid things to remember.
“You all right, buddy?” Cal looked at me with real sympathy.
A strong gust of wind caught the screen door at the front of the barracks just then and slammed it back against the wall, making both of us jump. A real bright zap of lightning lit up the trees outside.
Wincing a little, Cal bent down on one knee and started clumsily trying to scoop up the letters and envelopes that had slid all over. “Let’s get your things picked up and we’ll bug outta here before the storm. You can come and stay with me and Peaches tonight until we figure out what to do.”
I didn’t even ask who Peaches was. Or where we were going. As Aunt Odella would say, sometimes you’re too far past caring to care. By the time we got out of the barracks and squeezed into Cal’s truck, it was pitch black and pouring rain. With all the lightning and thunder exploding above the trees, it coulda been the London blitz. Cal hunched over the steering wheel, nose to the windshield almost, and roared down the winding roads of Camp Mackall as if hell was on fire. He was a crazy driver. Way worse than Uncle Otis, and that’s saying a lot.
“If me and your daddy were setting inside a C-47 right now, this is what we’d call flying into the soup.” Cal grinned like a big kid, sending me careening into his shoulder as he swerved around a tree branch as big around as my leg. “Sorry about that.” Popping a piece of red licorice in his mouth, he kept on flying through the storm and rain without stopping.
Even with all that danger, I couldn’t keep my heavy eyes open.
I remember Cal offering me a stick of licorice. I don’t remember eating it.
I remember a lady’s voice, much later, saying something about boots.
I remember walking through a room full of webs. And that’s all.
14. Room of Webs
N ext morning, I woke up and thought I was floating through a sky full of parachutes. Thought my daddy and all the other soldiers were dropping down for a visit. Above my head, a sky full of white squares flapped gently in the breeze. It took me a minute to realize it was laundry I was looking at, not parachutes. I was lying on a lumpy mattress on the floor of a room full of clotheslines strung across the ceiling like webs.
A creaking sound near my feet made me realize I wasn’t alone either. Hoisted myself up on one elbow to look at who was there. A woman sat in a rocking chair a few feet away. Eyes closed, she was easing the rocker back and forth with one bare toe on the linoleum. The lady coulda been an African queen with how regal and peaceful she looked. Long, straight nose. Shiny mahogany-colored cheekbones. Black hair swept up from her forehead. A faded green housedress the
Later on, my daddy gave up selling books and joined one of the Negro League’s baseball teams, so he was gonethen too. I remember how I always tried hiding in his automobile before he left, hoping he’d forget and take me along with him.
It never worked.
“You in here, Levi?” he’d holler, and pretend to look everywhere. Tap on the hood loudly. Blow the horn. Look under the seats. Then, after he found me curled up in the back—where I always was—he’d pick me up and throw my puny self over his shoulder. I could still recall the minty aftershave scent of his neck as I bounced along, teeth rattling, miles above the ground. He’d carry me up to the front steps of Granny’s apartment building, plop me next to her, and leave us sitting in a cloud of mint. Funny how I recalled that smell more strongly than anything. How my daddy had a mint-smelling neck and arms the color of buckeyes. What stupid things to remember.
“You all right, buddy?” Cal looked at me with real sympathy.
A strong gust of wind caught the screen door at the front of the barracks just then and slammed it back against the wall, making both of us jump. A real bright zap of lightning lit up the trees outside.
Wincing a little, Cal bent down on one knee and started clumsily trying to scoop up the letters and envelopes that had slid all over. “Let’s get your things picked up and we’ll bug outta here before the storm. You can come and stay with me and Peaches tonight until we figure out what to do.”
I didn’t even ask who Peaches was. Or where we were going. As Aunt Odella would say, sometimes you’re too far past caring to care. By the time we got out of the barracks and squeezed into Cal’s truck, it was pitch black and pouring rain. With all the lightning and thunder exploding above the trees, it coulda been the London blitz. Cal hunched over the steering wheel, nose to the windshield almost, and roared down the winding roads of Camp Mackall as if hell was on fire. He was a crazy driver. Way worse than Uncle Otis, and that’s saying a lot.
“If me and your daddy were setting inside a C-47 right now, this is what we’d call flying into the soup.” Cal grinned like a big kid, sending me careening into his shoulder as he swerved around a tree branch as big around as my leg. “Sorry about that.” Popping a piece of red licorice in his mouth, he kept on flying through the storm and rain without stopping.
Even with all that danger, I couldn’t keep my heavy eyes open.
I remember Cal offering me a stick of licorice. I don’t remember eating it.
I remember a lady’s voice, much later, saying something about boots.
I remember walking through a room full of webs. And that’s all.
14. Room of Webs
N ext morning, I woke up and thought I was floating through a sky full of parachutes. Thought my daddy and all the other soldiers were dropping down for a visit. Above my head, a sky full of white squares flapped gently in the breeze. It took me a minute to realize it was laundry I was looking at, not parachutes. I was lying on a lumpy mattress on the floor of a room full of clotheslines strung across the ceiling like webs.
A creaking sound near my feet made me realize I wasn’t alone either. Hoisted myself up on one elbow to look at who was there. A woman sat in a rocking chair a few feet away. Eyes closed, she was easing the rocker back and forth with one bare toe on the linoleum. The lady coulda been an African queen with how regal and peaceful she looked. Long, straight nose. Shiny mahogany-colored cheekbones. Black hair swept up from her forehead. A faded green housedress the
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