Home In The Morning (14 page)

Jackson was completely disarmed by her recitation accomplished in proper Cockney with dramatic gestures. He laughed at himself, laughed at her, the two of them collapsed into kitchen chairs with their
laughter. Jackson tried to apologize for his young self between gasps for breath. He handed Katherine Marie a napkin and took one himself, as their eyes were running tears they laughed so hard and long.

They blotted their faces and calmed down, and when they could talk, Jackson said: “White, clear white, inside?” I recited that line to you? With romantic intent? Please, I don’t remember ever being quite that stupid, Katherine Marie.

You were worse. Quoting such lines were your idea of racial liberalism back then. You’d get even more serious-lookin’ and say slowly, making your voice deep as it could go: “Though I’ve belted you and flayed you/By the livin’ Gawd that made you,/You’re a better man than I am, Gunga Din! “

They burst out laughing again, kept at it until the grits burned and Stella woke up, came flying down the stairs wondering where the fire was and why all the racket. When she saw them so full of their own jokes, she laughed too, without knowing why, and the three of them stood in the middle of the kitchen laughing like idiots as if only in an excess of joy could the pain of the past be blotted out.

Spring, 1959

S
IX MONTHS BEFORE
J
ACKSON’S MAMA
took sick at the age of forty-three, Eleanor died of her cough at last. The poor woman dropped dead, coughing up blood all over the Sassaport linoleum before anyone found her. At first, they found no one the lady of the house approved of to replace her, which left Mama on her own in a kitchen soon bereft of greens, legumes, fish, or fowl and awash in bacon, red meat, sugar, sour cream, and chicken fat. A backwoods blockhead could have predicted that she’d come down with diabetes, hypertension, glaucoma, or gout, but not all at once as it happened. The doctor had warned her of just these dangers ever since Bubba Ray was born, engendered as they might be by her dietary habits and family history. She paid no more mind to her husband on the subject of her health than she did anything else. No one foresaw that that powerhouse of will would take to her bed from shock at so much bad news, a cowardly act that threw the household into enough chaos that one afternoon Sukie declared she
was too old to take care of things by her single self and nurse an invalid to boot. I am retirin’, she announced, before you all kill me with the ever-flowin’ river of your needs and whims.

Jackson’s mama pitched a tearful fit at the declaration, and Daddy offered a substantial hike in pay, but neither could change Sukie’s mind. She was done with them all, especially that rascal Bubba Ray, she told them, and though she felt sorry to leave Miss Missy high and dry laid up as she was and though she’d miss young Mr. Jackson, her family favorite, dearly, she was doner than done. She had her social security coming, her baby girl had come back home from that hotel she worked in Biloxi with savings in the bank and a hardworking husband in tow, so she didn’t need the doctor’s money quite so bad as she had in years gone by when she’d lowered her pride and begged for some, even though she knew he was tight as a nun’s bedsheet with a dollar, she was that desperate. Despite the family’s pleas and offers, she packed up her things the same day and was gone for good.

Once the dust of her leave-taking settled, Dr. Sassaport looked his wife in her panicked, cloudy eye and said: I can’t quite fathom where all that sass comes from, can you? Weren’t we always good to Sukie? Didn’t you always give her your castoff dresses and the boys’ toys for her children? It’s not like your frocks were in tatters or the toys broken. Nothin’ we ever gave her was but barely used. We gave her days off when she asked most of the time, as I recall, and presents on her birthdays and Christmas. Sure, she slept here four nights a week, but we wanted five, and dammit, we paid her well for that duty, didn’t we? We paid her promptly a fair rate and never once cheated her out of her due. Call me stupid if you like, but I was attached to that woman. I thought she was attached to us, too. Well, I guess it goes to show. With Negroes, you just never know what they’re thinking. Don’t you worry, honey, I’ll find someone to take Sukie’s place. I’ve got a number of patients that owe me money, we’ll find a bargain in the process, you better believe.

It took a month. The first candidate struck Mama as slovenly from her first step through the back door. The second she thought had the darting eyes of a thief. The third appeared too weak to handle the workload, and so their maidless weeks dragged on. During that time, Jackson was required to take over, to vivify the domestic skills he’d learned from Mama during their golden year before Bubba Ray was born. He cooked, he swept, he laundered, he polished and scrubbed. He ran up and down the stairs ten times a day before school and after to make sure Mama had her pitcher of tea, her medicines, her magazines, her fresh towels. His grades suffered, but as he’d already enjoyed early acceptance to college, no one cared. Meanwhile, Bubba Ray lay about on the couch with his hands down his pants like the great adolescent slug he’d become and laughed at him. He trailed crumbs through the house, wadded up filthy paper and shoved balls of it under the couch, puddled his milk on the countertops and yelled to his brother: Miss Jackie, you missed a spot over here! Jackson slapped the brat the first time he played such tricks on him. He didn’t use anything close to his available force. It was a firm but slight slap to the shoulder such as one might deliver to the hind end of a toddler who was squalling because those fascinating matches had been taken away. Bubba Ray screamed like a woman and tore upstairs to hurl himself onto their mama’s bed where he sobbed out grandiose exaggerations of Jackson’s intemperance, presented his chubby cheeks streaked with tears, made his lying eyes round with damp pathos. Horrified, Mama rang the little bell she kept on her end table to summon the older boy to her side. Within minutes, he stood in front of her, hangdog, knowing what was coming while Bubba Ray sniffled amongst the bedclothes where he lay half-buried in Missy Fine Sassaport’s lap, his one visible eye twinkling with victory and revenge.

Jackson, I know my convalescence is hardest on you, Mama said, breathing heavily with emotion and fatigue. I know what a trial keeping
this old house in one piece is under normal circumstances. I know with your schoolwork and these new responsibilities, you’re no doubt pushed to the limits of your endurance. But some things cannot be helped. And a man, a real man, bears with the frustration of the inescapable without resorting to violence against a hapless child.

Wide-eyed, Jackson opened his mouth to protest. There was absolutely nothing hapless about the unruly, mean-spirited creature in question, he wanted to say. He was as tall as Jackson was and thick around the middle. He looked like an Ottoman warrior, for Lord’s sake. Jackson considered his brother’s long, simian arms, his thatch of thick curly hair, the heavy-lidded eyes and lips like a fish. There was something not right about him, something barbarian. As if listening to his thoughts, Mama raised her arm with her palm held flat up to heaven like a Baptist.

No, no, no. Don’t even try, Jackson. I will not hear a word against your baby brother. Whatever monkey business he may be up to, it cannot possibly excuse you from abusing him. Now, I want you to apologize this instant and swear before me, Bubba Ray, and God Almighty that you will never bully him again.

Oh, it was difficult. It might have been the most difficult task ever set before Jackson Sassaport, but he humbled himself to please his dear, sick mama. After choking out a much-detested apology, he vowed never to lay a hand on Bubba Ray again. It was the first of only two vows of his life that he ever broke.

Later on that night when Bubba Ray had gone to bed and Jackson checked in on Mama before retiring himself, it being one of Daddy’s meeting nights with the Council, mother and son had a heart-to-heart.

You’re a good boy, Jackson, Mama began, a mother couldn’t ask for one better, and I am fully aware that on the other hand Bubba Ray is a ruckus and a half. As you know, I’ve lost my temper with him once or
twice myself. But you have to understand, as Daddy and I do, that he’s not like you. He’s not very smart and he’s not good-lookin’, that’s the pitiful truth of it. He does, however, possess a certain charm. Daddy calls it the shrewdness of the willfully ignorant, but your daddy’s always been hard on you all. Lord knows, Bubba Ray can get outta me whatever he wants on charm alone, and I am convinced that will be his saving grace, how he’ll get by in the world. Maybe he’ll sell something in one of your uncles’ stores. Or, as he’s big and burly enough, maybe he’ll be a sports star. That’s what I like to fancy for him. Isn’t that queer? A sportsman has to apply himself, and he requires a lot of sleep, don’t he? but I can’t get the idea out of my head nonetheless. Bubba Ray hurtlin’ through the goalposts, Bubba Ray sailin’ over the finish line, Bubba Ray knockin’ one out of the park. That’s what I think about when I picture your brother in days to come. Well, time will tell, time will tell. The thing of it is that I do believe Bubba Ray wishes he were you. Wishes he were smart and handsome. He feels his lack bitterly. But brains and looks were not what the Lord gave him. So I want you to try to be compassionate. Understand that when he torments you, it’s out of jealousy, plain and simple. Rise above, son, rise above. Your brother does not have the capacity.

Considering his mother’s delicate condition, there wasn’t much Jackson felt he could do. He was old enough to know there was no arguing with a mother’s love. He promised Mama he’d try, although he found her opinion of Bubba Ray to be maternal love gone delusional. By his lights, Bubba Ray was a selfish, lazy, good-for-nothing destined for penury and prison. He didn’t possess charm so much as a blighted soul basted in snake oil. The only thing he was precocious in was growth: He seemed to have twice the body mass his elder brother marshaled and not yet twelve, he already shaved twice a week. Yet Jackson was too busy with the demands of home and school to dwell much on the subject of Bubba Ray’s grotesqueries. Whenever he could,
he ignored him, worked around him, and squelched the resentment he felt at having to feed and clean up after the greedy devil.

To Jackson’s relief, by the time a month had passed, Daddy came up with a maid and cook of whom Mama could approve. The doctor announced her impending arrival at supper.

Well, while I thank you, son, he told his eldest, I thank you very much indeed for your efforts during the past number of weeks, I am delighted this is the last evening I have to chomp down on chicken drier than a boar’s teat. I have located us a replacement for Sukie and Eleanor. She dropped by this afternoon while you boys were at school, and Mama liked her just fine. She’ll start tomorrow. Jackson, you got clean sheets in the house? I think we ought to drag Sukie’s old cot out of the basement and make it up nice and fresh to welcome her proper. She’s a young one, never lived away from home before, saving up money for her wedding, so the story goes.

Jackson asked where he’d found her.

Actually, she came to my office lookin’ for a way to repay me for takin’ care of her two young sisters. Twins. Asthmatics misdiagnosed as tuberculars, can you believe it? I had those two pups in my office not two weeks ago on charity night croaking out what sounded like their last breaths after some midwife witchdoctor down in the village tortured ’em with mustard plaster and pepper soup. Why anyone with half their senses thought that would cure tuberculosis, I haven’t a clue. I don’t know who it was diagnosed them, but it didn’t sit right with me, don’t know if I can tell you why, it just didn’t. I took ’em over to the hospital next day when I went for my morning rounds and had ’em X-rayed and blood tested on the QT, otherwise that gal’d never be able to pay for it, and I wanted to know, dammit, I wanted to know. Turned out I was on the money. Allergy-induced asthma. Both of ’em. One, two, three, I fixed them up with atomizers, and they breathed easy last week for the first time in a year, big sister tells me. Like I said, she was
thankful, brought me over a home-cooked lunch. Catfish and spoon bread and Lord, it was delicious, much better’n yours. Better’n Sukie’s, too. Little side of black-eyed peas spiced tangy. Don’t know what was in it, but it was fine. Didn’t bite your mouth, just nibbled it. I asked her if she could cook low-fat and low-sugar just as well, and she’s a proud one, she said, Why yessir, I can cook anything on God’s green earth. Well, we got to talking. Ipso facto, Jackson’s reprieve. How’d you like that, son? Perhaps you can look forward to a carefree spring and summer before you’re off to Yankeetown and the shining future of your dreams after all. Providing this little miss works out.

Daddy, I wish you’d stop calling it Yankeetown. It’s New Haven. It’s Yale.

Well, all I can say is that if it were Oxford or Durham, we might be able to afford a maid and a cook again rather than have to lay all our hopes on one skinny li’l gal.

Jackson held his tongue, but what he wanted to say was: Can’t you be proud of me for once in your life, Daddy? If you were, maybe I wouldn’t feel so cooped up in Guilford that I’d crawl to the ends of the earth just to get away from you. Doesn’t it mean anything to you that I’m valedictorian? That the Ivy League wants me? But it’d been a long day of shopping and housework, school and study. He was too tired for the argument he knew would ensue, as they’d had it so many times before.