him any more.
They bought Crook a tie and some cufflinks from the K-Mart that had just opened up next to the brand new McDonald's hamburger take-out. Totaled $4.93. They spent the rest of the money on submarine sandwiches and grape pop.
When they went by his house to drop off the presents, the door was open and flies were buzzing over plates of food that looked like they'd been sitting out for days. They opened the screen door when no one answered, then peeked in the bedroom. As they had expected, Crook was asleep, drunk, right next to Miss Ernestine. An empty bottle of liquor was on the dresser. The two of them were spread-eagled across the bed, half naked and drooling all over each other. Freda dropped the unwrapped gifts on the black-and-white TV set, made an about-face, and they all ran out of the house.
She decided to make fried chicken and pork-n-beans for dinner, and afterward told the kids they could have the privilege of going roller-skating at the McKinley Auditorium with six of the other ten dollars Mildred had left them to spend on entertainment. Freda loved the power she had playing mama. She didn't want to go skating because, just like Mildred, it was rare that she was alone and had time to herself. She wanted to finish making a wraparound skirt she was working on with no interruptions. A horn honked and the kids ran out to the car. Their Aunt Curly Mae told Freda she would have them home by ten.
Freda was sitting in the living room, sewing, listening to Della Reese, and puffing on a cigarette like she'd been smoking twenty years instead of just one. When she heard a knock at the kitchen door, she jumped up and smashed the butt out so fast that she burned her fingertips. But it was only Deadman. She hollered for him to come in.
"Hi, Freda," he said, slurring and smiling, showing off his bright pink gums. "I came to fix the pipe." Deadman sounded like he was drunk, though it was rare that Freda had ever seen him drink more than a glassful. Once in a while he followed in his brothers' footsteps and got drunk with them, but hardly ever in public.
"I know, I know." She waved him in. "You know where the sink is, Dead. Just don't come in here bothering me, 'cause I'm doing something." Freda unbent her cigarette, brushed it off, and lit it back up. Deadman wasn't nobody, she thought, as she inhaled and blew smoke out through her nose.
"Where the hell is everybody?" he yelled from the kitchen.
"Roller-skating. How come you didn't go tonight?" she asked.
"I didn't feel like skating," he said. Deadman usually hung out with the teenage crowd because grown-ups didn't take him seriously.
It was getting dark, so Freda turned on the light in the living room. Ten minutes later, Deadman came in and claimed he couldn't fix the pipe because he didn't have the right tools. But Freda didn't remember him carrying any when he came in. The next thing she knew he had flopped down on the couch near her chair. She sucked her teeth and made sure she kept her back turned to him. He still didn't take the hint. He pulled his pint bottle from his back pocket and took two long swigs. He could hardly sit up straight, but he managed to pull himself to a standing position. Then he crept up behind her and slid his arms around her neck.
"Are you crazy, Deadman?" she yelled. "Get your fuckin' hands offa me, niggah." Cussing came as easy for Freda as it did for Mildred, and if Deadman had been any drunker, he might have mistaken her for Mildred and left her alone. But he wasn't that drunk. "Ah, come on, Freda," he said, "let me have one little kiss. I'll give you five dollars. Just one little kiss."
"I don't want your money, Deadman, and you better get your fuckin' hands offa me before I scream." Freda tried to sound sure of herself but she knew that where this house was situated, no one would hear her no matter how loud she screamed. She got scared. It was only nine o'clock and the kids wouldn't be home for at least another hour. Sometimes
They bought Crook a tie and some cufflinks from the K-Mart that had just opened up next to the brand new McDonald's hamburger take-out. Totaled $4.93. They spent the rest of the money on submarine sandwiches and grape pop.
When they went by his house to drop off the presents, the door was open and flies were buzzing over plates of food that looked like they'd been sitting out for days. They opened the screen door when no one answered, then peeked in the bedroom. As they had expected, Crook was asleep, drunk, right next to Miss Ernestine. An empty bottle of liquor was on the dresser. The two of them were spread-eagled across the bed, half naked and drooling all over each other. Freda dropped the unwrapped gifts on the black-and-white TV set, made an about-face, and they all ran out of the house.
She decided to make fried chicken and pork-n-beans for dinner, and afterward told the kids they could have the privilege of going roller-skating at the McKinley Auditorium with six of the other ten dollars Mildred had left them to spend on entertainment. Freda loved the power she had playing mama. She didn't want to go skating because, just like Mildred, it was rare that she was alone and had time to herself. She wanted to finish making a wraparound skirt she was working on with no interruptions. A horn honked and the kids ran out to the car. Their Aunt Curly Mae told Freda she would have them home by ten.
Freda was sitting in the living room, sewing, listening to Della Reese, and puffing on a cigarette like she'd been smoking twenty years instead of just one. When she heard a knock at the kitchen door, she jumped up and smashed the butt out so fast that she burned her fingertips. But it was only Deadman. She hollered for him to come in.
"Hi, Freda," he said, slurring and smiling, showing off his bright pink gums. "I came to fix the pipe." Deadman sounded like he was drunk, though it was rare that Freda had ever seen him drink more than a glassful. Once in a while he followed in his brothers' footsteps and got drunk with them, but hardly ever in public.
"I know, I know." She waved him in. "You know where the sink is, Dead. Just don't come in here bothering me, 'cause I'm doing something." Freda unbent her cigarette, brushed it off, and lit it back up. Deadman wasn't nobody, she thought, as she inhaled and blew smoke out through her nose.
"Where the hell is everybody?" he yelled from the kitchen.
"Roller-skating. How come you didn't go tonight?" she asked.
"I didn't feel like skating," he said. Deadman usually hung out with the teenage crowd because grown-ups didn't take him seriously.
It was getting dark, so Freda turned on the light in the living room. Ten minutes later, Deadman came in and claimed he couldn't fix the pipe because he didn't have the right tools. But Freda didn't remember him carrying any when he came in. The next thing she knew he had flopped down on the couch near her chair. She sucked her teeth and made sure she kept her back turned to him. He still didn't take the hint. He pulled his pint bottle from his back pocket and took two long swigs. He could hardly sit up straight, but he managed to pull himself to a standing position. Then he crept up behind her and slid his arms around her neck.
"Are you crazy, Deadman?" she yelled. "Get your fuckin' hands offa me, niggah." Cussing came as easy for Freda as it did for Mildred, and if Deadman had been any drunker, he might have mistaken her for Mildred and left her alone. But he wasn't that drunk. "Ah, come on, Freda," he said, "let me have one little kiss. I'll give you five dollars. Just one little kiss."
"I don't want your money, Deadman, and you better get your fuckin' hands offa me before I scream." Freda tried to sound sure of herself but she knew that where this house was situated, no one would hear her no matter how loud she screamed. She got scared. It was only nine o'clock and the kids wouldn't be home for at least another hour. Sometimes
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