One Mississippi (13 page)

“Not really,” I said. “I mean — I don’t know —”

My confusion made her laugh. “Oh, come on. Don’t get me wrong, they’re nice as can be, but I certainly can’t be related to them. I mean, look at me! I’m not black!”

I glanced to Mrs. Beecham for some hint that she was in on this joke. She was giving her daughter the same cool, appraising stare she’d been giving me all these weeks.

“I really hate to make an issue of it,” Arnita said. “I don’t have anything against black people, but I’m sorry, you cannot be my mother and father.”

“Arnita,” her mother said, “baby, remember you had an accident, you hurt your head. The doctors say no two brain injuries are the same. I am your mother, and this here’s your father. He’s been sitting beside you the whole time, remember?”

Arnita said, “Daniel, what do you think?”

I swallowed. “She’s right.”

“It’s a matter of opinion, I suppose,” she said, with a trace of irritation. “What time is it?”

I glanced at my watch. “Five-thirty.”

“
Gomer Pyle
is on.” She sank back in the chair.

Mr. Beecham switched on the TV and walked me out to the porch. “It’s a serious thing, Mr. Musgrove.”

“She thinks — she said —”

Beecham said, “Sometimes she knows us, and other times not. She thinks she’s a white girl. Called Linda.”

“Linda?”

He nodded. “Ever since she woke up.”

Mrs. Beecham came out. “Musgrove, those doctors told me things I could hardly believe. Did you know there’s a place inside your brain where you keep just your name, and a picture of what you look like in the mirror? If that one particular part gets damaged, you don’t know your own name. You can’t recognize your own face. That’s what’s happened to Arnita. When she looks in a mirror, she can’t see who she really is. She sees this other girl.”

“That is weird,” I said, because it was.

“She thinks Arnita is somebody else. A girl she went to school with. She remembers things that happened to Arnita. She says Arnita had an accident. But she’s convinced she’s this Linda.”

Mr. Beecham touched my elbow. “We was hoping you might come around, help her catch up with her lessons. She ’posed to get a scholarship if she can keep up her grades.”

His wife looked me in the eye. “You don’t have to do it, Musgrove. You’ve done a lot already. I ain’t gonna make you do anything this time.”

A blue jay pelted the air with its cries.

I peered through the screen door to where Arnita sat quietly watching
Gomer Pyle.
“Do they think she’ll always be like this?”

“Oh, no, she’s already so much better. If she keeps on making progress, she’ll be going back to school in the fall.”

“She likes you,” Mr. Beecham said. “She talks to you. She hardly talks to anybody. Not to us, anyway.”

I squared my shoulders. “I guess I could talk to her teachers.”

“I done that already.” Mr. Beecham drew a much-folded paper from his pocket. “If you see Mr. Hamm on Monday, he’ll have her work ready for you.”

Lincoln Beecham had arranged it all in advance. His wife must have told him I would do whatever they told me to do.

“You a fine young man,” he was saying.

“Don’t tell him that, he’s already got the big head,” his wife said. “Do you see now, Musgrove? See why Red has to pay for what he did? He took my baby from me. My beautiful baby don’t even know who she is anymore. I can’t let him just walk away scot-free, can I?”

Her husband said, “Now Ella, leave it be.” That was the first time I’d heard her name. Ella Beecham, with tears running down her face.

I could have said Wait, you’ve got it all wrong, Red didn’t do it, it was an accident, yes we did drive off and leave her, yes we let Red take the blame. I tasted those words on the back of my tongue.

I climbed on my bike and rode away.

8

T
IM ORDERED A BANANA
split. I got a cherry Big Slushee that froze my brain on the third slurp. I staggered to a booth and sat down, gripping my skull in my hands.

“Oh my God Durwood, don’t look up — don’t!”

I looked. Mrs. Passworth was studying the Dairy Dog menu with her Jackie O sunglasses pushed up on her forehead. She spotted me looking. “Hey, boys!”

Tim waved hello,
don’t come over don’t come over.
The minute she had her chocolate swirl cone in hand, she came right over. “Mind if I join you? This place is filled to the gills!” She eased down beside me on the bench. “I just had to have a little something cool before I got in that car. My A/C’s on the blink. Good gravy, is it ever hot!”

“Of course it’s hot,” I said. “It’s Mississippi. When is it ever not hot?”

“Daniel, I wanted to thank you for helping Arnita with her homework.” She spoke around a mouthful of ice cream. “That’s very admirable. Poor girl, how’s she coming along?”

“Pretty good,” I said. “I just hope she doesn’t need any help in algebra. I’m useless.”

“Oh, you’re fine,” she said. “At least you pay attention in class, instead of just giggling and cutting up.” Plainly she had me confused with some other guy.

It felt bizarre to be sitting with a teacher in a public place, away from school. That was breaking an unwritten law. And there was this aura of loneliness around Mrs. Passworth, even in a crowded place. You never heard anything about a Mr. Passworth. She licked her cone and asked what our plans were for the summer. When we said we didn’t have any plans, she got all excited.

“Really? Oh, that’s great! It’s a miracle! There’s a project at our church you’d be perfect for,” she said. “You’re both musicians, aren’t you?”

Not really, we said — I played xylophone, glockenspiel, a little self-taught piano, and Tim played a bit of guitar. “Perfect!” she cried. “Piano and guitar are exactly what we need! I’m in charge of this fantastic new Christian rock musical our youth group is putting on. Two boys from the combo up and quit on me yesterday, the rats. Y’all are a gift straight from heaven!”

“You don’t even know if we can play,” Tim said.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine. The music’s easy. The next rehearsal is Sunday. You’d be absolutely saving my life. Plus you’d make good money. Oh, am I glad I ran into you.”

Something about the word “combo” appealed to me. I got a mind-picture of Tim and me dressed up as Yardbirds, as Monkees.

“How much money?” I said.

“Twenty dollars a rehearsal,” she said, “and thirty for each performance.”

Wow, that was better than good money. Way more than I ever made cutting grass. “Thirty dollars for both of us?”

“Each, honey. We’re Baptists — what do you think? Just come to one rehearsal, see if you like it. It’s a very hip show, it’s like
Godspell
without all the cursing. We’re having a great time with it.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Lots of cute girls too.”

“That does it, I’m in.” I elbowed Tim. “Come on, Timmy, what do you say?”

“I’ve never been in a
combo,
” he said, with an evil smile.

“Great! It’s all settled. Full Flower Baptist Church, on Van Winkle Road in West Jackson. Five o’clock Sunday.”

“If we don’t like it, we can quit, right?” Tim said. “You won’t get mad and flunk us out of Algebra Two?”

She smiled. “Of course I will.”

She chattered on awhile, then took off.
Oh God what have we done?
On the face of it, a Christian youth rock musical sounded embarrassing, but we were counting on big laughs, especially with Passworth involved. If it wasn’t one hundred percent hilarious, we would quit.

“Let me get this straight,” Mom said. “Now you’re going off every night to some church? To do what exactly?”

“They need musicians for a combo. They’re paying twenty bucks a rehearsal!”

“Well, if it’s a church, I guess I can’t say no,” she said. “When did you learn to play piano?”

“Fooling around in the band hall,” I said. “I’m not very good, but Miz Passworth thinks I’m good enough. Come on, Mom.”

She took off her apron. “Honestly, Daniel, I wish you’d stay home more and help me with Jacko. Instead of just leaving me to do everything. No. I’m sorry. I’ll have to ask Daddy about this when he comes home.”

“Mom, please? You know he’ll say no. You
know
he will. Come on, this is not something you have to ask him.”

“What does Timmy’s mother say about it?”

Patsy Cousins said we were fools to get mixed up with those Jackson Baptists — they would work our fannies off and never pay us a dime. I paraphrased: “She says it’s a great idea.”

Jacko said, “What you gwine do, boy?”

“Gonna play the piano in a church.”

He cawed. “Nah, you been seeing that nigger gal, ain’t you?”

“Don’t call her that, Jacko.”

“Gone sweet on her! You tell yo mama?”

“Be quiet!”

“You got it bad,” he said. “Boy like him a taste of the dark meat! Mm-hmm!”

Mom was scandalized. “Jacko, you hush!”

“That’s right, old man, and we’re gonna get married. We’re gonna name our first baby after you!”

That sent him into a fit of laughing and coughing.

Mom regarded me gravely as she pounded his back. “You be nice to that girl. Girls are tricky. I know you don’t believe it, but I used to be one myself.”

“Mom, please.”

I
RODE MY BIKE
across the Yatchee bridge to find Mrs. Beecham watering the new flower beds. “Hey Musgrove, you need to start coming on time or we’ll have to get somebody else.” She made as if to squirt me. “You thirsty?”

I dodged the stream. “Lemonade, please.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you lemonade. What you got in the box?”

“Arnita’s homework. They said we should start at the top and work down.”

“Don’t you be showing her that big old box! You’ll scare her to death.”

“They want me to take her assignments on Fridays. After school lets out, the summer-school teachers will grade them for her.”

“She’s not well yet,” Mrs. Beecham said. “Don’t you be pushing too hard.”

I placed the box on the porch. “Hey, whatever you say. It was your big idea. We can skip the whole thing as far as I’m concerned.”

“Maybe y’all could just go for a walk today. Lord knows she needs to get out — I’d like to throw that TV out the window. All she does is sit there watching that trash. See can you get her to come outside.”

I knocked, eased the door open. “Arnita?”

“Arnita’s not here,” she sang from the upholstered chair. I heard the
Green Acres
theme. Arnita peered around the back of the chair. “Oh, hey!”

“Hey. I’m Daniel, remember?”

“I know! I’ve been waiting all day for you! Are you ready to go?”

“Go where?”

“She said you could take me for a walk.” Damn, she was cute in her dainty white T-shirt, Big Smith overalls, bare ankles, flip-flops. “Can we go, please? Come on!” She tugged me by the hand to the door. Her touch sent a thrill through me, a shot of electricity. I smelled strawberry candy.

She broke away and danced off the porch, tipping her face to the sun. The lenses of her glasses became dazzling white disks. “God, it’s so hot out here!”

Mrs. Beecham waved the hose at the zinnias. “Look how good our girl is walking!”

“Terrific,” I said. “Big improvement since the last time.” I stayed close, in case she wanted to grab my hand again. That was the first time a truly beautiful girl had ever touched me. It made the air of East Minor seem golden, heavy with light.

“Y’all have fun, now, don’t go too far,” Mrs. Beecham said.

“See you later, thanks for everything,” Arnita called, pulling me down the walk. “Come on, Daniel. Let’s go to the other side of the world.”

I suggested the little park on the riverbank, just over the bridge. The Yatchee wasn’t much of a river, but that was a pretty spot.

“I’ll go anywhere to get out of that house,” she said. “Those people are driving me crazy. They keep going on and on about my ‘injury.’ I’m sick of it.”

“That must be weird,” I said.

“See, I went in the hospital to get my nose fixed — then everything got all mixed up. Obviously for some reason they think I’m their daughter. Do you like my new nose?” She traced the center line with a finger.

“It’s great,” I said. “I mean, it’s the same as before. It’s always been a nice nose.”

“The mark of great plastic surgery is, you can’t even tell it’s been done.”

“I don’t know exactly what I’m supposed to do here, Arnita.”

“What do you mean? We’re taking a walk.”

“But I mean this stuff you’re saying — it’s not true. Am I supposed to tell you that, will it make you mad, or am I supposed to pretend . . . ?”

“God, you are so polite.” She tugged down her glasses. “Are you always this polite? Feel free to tell me if I say something stupid.”

“Okay, like, for instance — you did have an injury. A brain injury, not a nose job. And the Beechams are your parents, I swear.”

“No, my father’s name is Steve, and my mom is Eydie,” she said. “We live in a split-level ranch house with a big oak tree in the front yard.”

I shrugged. “See? Now that’s just something you made up. Steve and Eydie are those singers on TV.”

We stopped to peer over the side of the bridge, down into the slow-moving river. I noticed a little hoard of rocks piled in a hiding place on one of the bridge stanchions. I remembered the gang of kids that always hung out here, throwing rocks. “Arnita, you want to throw a rock?”

“Please don’t call me that. I understand why
they
call me that, but couldn’t you please call me Linda?”

“Sure, okay . . . Linda.”

“Arnita’s not me. And I am not she.” She dropped the rock, waited for the
plonk!

I hurled one a long way upriver.

We took turns dropping and throwing rocks until we’d used up most of the boys’ stash.

We crossed the bridge and descended a little slope to a rusted swing set. Blue jays screamed in the trees. A tinge of leaf-smoke hung in the air.

Arnita sat in the swing. “You knew Arnita before it happened. Was she different than me?”

“Not that much. And you’re getting better, you’re already a lot better than you were. Pretty soon you’ll be good as new.”

“Well you can’t fight City Hall,” she said. “Everyone in the world can’t be crazy, so I suppose it’s got to be me.”

“It’s not your fault you got hurt.”
It’s my fault
was on the tip of my tongue, where it remained.

“I try to be Arnita when everyone is looking,” she said. “I don’t know where my real family is.”

“Steve and Eydie?”

“I guess they forgot all about me.” She glanced up at me. The look in her eyes just melted my heart. I placed my hands on her shoulders and nudged the swing.

“Do you remember Prom Night?” I said.

“Arnita was elected the Queen of the Prom,” she said.

“I mean after that. The accident.”

“Oh. No. I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Red Martin,” I said. “I’m not like his best friend or anything, but are you sure he’s the one that hurt you?”

“He knocked her off her bike. She fell and hit her head.”

“But it was an accident. Wasn’t it? I don’t think he meant to knock you down.”

“Yes he did,” she said. “Red is not a nice guy. He was mad cause Arnita wouldn’t kiss him at Charlene’s party.”

I edged out onto thin ice. “Okay. But I mean later, when you were riding home on your bike.”

“Red was drunk,” she said.

I gave another gentle push. “Nobody else bothered you?”

She shook her head. “Do you think she looked pretty in her prom dress?”

“You were beautiful. Unbelievable. I couldn’t stop looking at you. Nobody could. What a dress. I mean . . . That was a dress.”

She dug her toes in the sand to stop swinging. I memorized the warmth of her shoulders under my hands.

“It didn’t belong to Arnita,” she said. “Her Aunt Sarah works in this very expensive shop just off Canal Street. She was supposed to send it back. But they said she got blood on it.”

“You think we should be getting back?” I said. “Your mother will skin me alive if I keep you out here too long.” It hadn’t been long at all, really, but I was slightly afraid of this girl. The places her mind seemed to wander. The flashes of static electricity crackling from her.

“She is not my mother,” Arnita said. “I wish you could remember that.”

“Doesn’t matter, she’s back there waiting for us.”

We stopped to throw the last rock into the river — I let her do the honors. We walked up the hill to Forrest Street.

Arnita hesitated. “We can be friends, okay? You can keep track of all the really dumb things I say. That’ll be your job.”

“I’ll do what I can,” I said.

“I don’t really want to go back to that house, Daniel. It just feels wrong to be with those people.”

“Where else could you go?”

“Is there room at your house? I could come stay with you.”

“You wouldn’t want to do that,” I said.

“Why, is it bad?”

“Not that bad, just . . . my dad’s real strict. And we have this great-uncle living with us. Things are weird at the moment.”

“Didn’t you say you have a brother?”

“Bud. He’s in the Marines. And Janie, my sister, she’s twelve. I’m the middle.”

“If he’s in the Marines couldn’t I stay in his room?” she said. “Is your house far from here?”

“Eleven miles. All the way out the Old Raymond Road. I ride my bike to town every day just to see you.”

“Maybe I could come over to your house sometime.” She touched my shoulder. Her fingers felt like a kiss. She ran to the porch.

I pedaled away with the sun in my eyes. It was silly to imagine anything with Arnita — but what a pleasant jolt when she touched me. I loved walking next to her, drinking her in. I liked how she peered over her glasses to mock me with her eyes.

I pictured Steve and Eydie in a split-level house with an oak tree out front. I imagined them standing at a window, looking out, waiting for their Linda to come home.