Place Called Estherville (2 page)

“Look at me, Ganus. Don’t you think I’m attractive?”

He nodded almost immediately with a nervous jerky motion of his head. For a long time all he could see were her large brown eyes wavering before him, while confused thoughts tumbled through his mind. “You sure are pretty, Miss Stephena,” he heard the strange sound of his own voice. He was surprised and frightened by the thoughts that raced through him, but he could not drive them away. “You’re the prettiest girl there is. I never saw anybody so pretty before. I wish the Good Man had—had—”

“Had what, Ganus?” she spoke up quickly bending her body forward. Her shoulders twitched almost imperceptibly. “Had what, Ganus? Tell me. I’ve got to know.”

He felt a cold dampness on his forehead and when he looked down at his hands, he could see tiny beads of perspiration breaking through the skin.

“I wish you wouldn’t tease me about that—about things that can’t be helped,” he said, pleading with her. “It’s not right, Miss Stephena. It’s not right at all.”

She thrust one of her feet forward and gazed musingly at the bright red satin. After a while she tossed back her tousled brown hair and looked straight at him.

“Ganus, what would you do if—if we were both the same?”

He knew at once what she meant. Shaking his head, he looked away from her and at the shady street outside the window.

“Have you ever thought about it?” she asked.

He shook his head determinedly.

“You have, though, haven’t you, Ganus?”

This time he tried to pretend that he had not heard her.

“I’ve thought about it,” she continued persistently. “You have, too. I know you have.”

“Please, Miss Stephena,” he pleaded, “don’t make me say that.”

She leaned farther over the edge of the table. “I won’t tell anybody,” she promised solemnly. “Cross my heart!”

Ganus swallowed nervously. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that, Miss Stephena. Or make me talk about it, neither. You oughtn’t to. The last time you asked me that, I told you a boy like me oughtn’t be opening his mouth about some things. It can make the worst kind of trouble there is. I sure don’t want to get myself in that kind of awful trouble. I’ve heard of colored boys letting white people get them in trouble, and I don’t want it happening to me. I want to stay as far away from bad trouble as the Good Man will let me. That’s what I want to do as long as I live. Now, don’t ever say that to me again. You keep quiet about that.”

Her face flushed with anger. There was a tightening of the lines of her firmly compressed lips.

“I didn’t think you’d dare talk back to me like that.”

“I didn’t mean it to sound that way at all, Miss Stephena,” he tried to explain. “I was only saying what I was worried about. You know I wouldn’t talk back to you.”

“Stand on your head, Ganus,” she commanded.

He had always done everything she told him to do. Many times while washing dishes or making beds or sweeping the floor he would wonder what she would order him to do when she came home from school in the afternoon. He had come to look forward to obeying her impulsive whims, no matter how absurd or difficult, and he always felt deprived of the opportunity to do something to please her when she stayed out late and did not come home until dark. There had been times when she made him skin-the-cat in the garage until he dropped exhausted to the floor; there had been other times when she would tell him to weave pins under his skin until the calloused palms of both hands or the soles of his feet looked as if they had been coated with shiny metal. She frequently thought of something new or difficult for him to do, but no matter how cruel or painful her demands were, he had always tried his best to do what she told him. This was the first time she had ever ordered him to stand on his head, and he wondered if that was because she had never happened to think of it before. He tried to recall how long it had been since he had stood on his head, and at the same time he was hoping he would be able to do it.

“I said, stand on your head, Ganus Bazemore!” she told him imperiously. “Didn’t you hear me?”

He nodded and went to the center of the kitchen and lowered his hands to the floor. He did not look directly at Stephena, but he could watch her red satin slippers swinging under the table. He placed his head on the floor between his outspread hands and hurled his legs upward toward the ceiling. At first he almost lost his balance, but after frantically kicking his feet several times he was surprised to find how easy it was for him to stay on his head. He did not know how much time had passed when he felt himself becoming dizzy. He waited, hoping Stephena would hurry and tell him that he could put his feet down, and when she jumped off the table and walked past him to the door, he felt himself losing his balance and he hastily lowered his feet to the floor. He crouched on his knees until the dizzy sensation went away, and then, feeling proud of what he had accomplished, he slowly stood upright. It was then that Stephena ran to him and slapped his face as hard as she could.

“That’s for not asking me if you could stop, Ganus Bazemore,” she told him crossly. “Maybe next time you’ll know better.”

He stumbled backward beyond her reach to prevent her from slapping him again, and stood there with an uncertain smile on his face while he rubbed his stinging cheek. She had never slapped him so hard before, and the tears were beginning to blur his vision. He blinked his eyes helplessly.

Stephena went to the table, snatched up the comic section of the Sunday paper, and walked out of the kitchen.

“Bring my breakfast right away,” she called back to him.

Ganus nodded, even though she had already passed out of sight, and went to the table and picked up the bowl of eggs. He looked in the direction she had gone until he could no longer hear the sound of her footsteps.

He could still feel the painful sting of her hand on his face as he sliced the tomatoes and he rubbed his burning cheek against the cool white cloth of his sleeve. For the first time he felt resentful, although the resentment lasted only as long as the pain itself; but during that time he wanted to leave and find a job where he would not be treated like this. As soon as the pain went away, though, he was sorry he had even thought of leaving the Singfields. He wanted to stay where Stephena was.

When the eggs and toast were ready, he carefully arranged the silverware and china on the tray and went through the house and up the stairway to the second floor. As he walked down the carpeted hall toward Stephena’s room, he made up his mind to work harder than ever before so the Singfields would let him stay there all his life. However, when he saw the door before him, he felt a familiar twinge rising in his throat. He wanted to go into the room where she was, but now he realized more than ever before how easily she could get him into trouble. While he stood at the door delaying as long as he could the moment when he would have to enter, he made up his mind not to let anything keep him from leaving the room as quickly as possible. He knocked, opened the door, and went in. He could feel his hands beginning to shake when he started across the room.

Carefully averting his eyes, he walked toward the small bedside table and because of that he almost dropped the breakfast tray; she had thrown the yellow silk pajamas on the floor, and it was then that he almost dropped the tray in jumping aside in time to keep from stepping on them. With dishes rattling noisily, he managed to place the tray on the table before anything was spilled. He could hear Stephena’s giggling laughter while he uncovered the dish of scrambled eggs and tomatoes and poured coffee with trembling hands. Then as quickly as possible, still not having looked at her in bed, he started toward the door.

“Why are you running away like that, Ganus?” she called to him in a drawling voice. “You’re shaking all over, too. What’s the matter, Ganus?”

He stopped, clearly remembering his firm determination to leave the room right away, but nevertheless, turning slowly around with helpless disregard, he looked at her for the first time since she had left the kitchen. She had combed her hair and was sitting upright in bed laughingly hugging a pillow in her arms.

“Nothing much’s the matter, Miss Stephena,” he answered her weakly, trying his best to make his voice sound calm. He backed slowly toward the door. “It’s just that I’ve got to hurry back downstairs and finish up my work in the kitchen before Miss Stella and Mr. Charley come home from church. I wouldn’t want your mama to find the kitchen untidy. No, ma’am! That’s one thing Miss Stella always raises a big rumpus about. She won’t put up with an untidy kitchen. No ma’m!”

“Come back here, Ganus,” she ordered him in a commanding manner.

Reluctantly, he moved several steps in her direction. She was hugging the pillow excitedly.

“What—what—do you want, Miss Stephena?”

“I want to ask you something.”

“Yes, ma’m, Miss Stephena,” he murmured, his whole being fearful of what she might say.

Stephena leaned forward and the pillow sagged carelessly in her arms. “Ganus, tell me the honest truth. What would you do now if you could do anything you wanted to and be sure nobody ever knew about it?”

“I’d—I’d go right straight back down to the kitchen, Miss Stephena,” he told her, shoving his hands behind his back and gripping them damply together.

“No, you wouldn’t, Ganus,” she said tensely. “Go on and tell me the honest truth. I want to know.”

“Know what?” he asked evasively, glancing behind him at the door.

“If you could do anything you wanted to.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said in desperation. “I wish you’d eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”

“Ganus,” she spoke as though patiently prompting him.

He shook his head determinedly. “That’s something I don’t want to know, neither.”

“Yes, you do, too. You know just as well as I do.”

“Please don’t make me say what you said you wanted me to say, Miss Stephena. I’ll do anything in the world you want me to as long as I live—if you’ll only let me go now like I ought to. That’s all the favor I’d ever ask, Miss Stephena.” She moved across the bed and the pillow fell to the floor. He could think of nothing else but the time she walked into the kitchen hugging a pillow in her arms, and he prayed fervently for somebody to come this time, too. The realization that somebody might come and find him there almost made his heart stand still. “Miss Stephena, they’d murder me alive if they found me here now,” he pleaded with desperate urgency. “Nothing would stop it. You know that. They’d kill me sure if they saw me now. I know what I’m talking about. That’s the Good Man’s own truth, Miss Stephena.”

“You promised me a little while ago that you were going to do everything I told you. Didn’t you, Ganus?”

“Yes, ma’m, and I’ll promise it again, if you’ll only let me go now.”

“Aren’t you going to keep your promise, Ganus?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know you meant anything at all like this, though, Miss Stephena. I thought you only meant like standing on my head and skinning-the-cat and things like that. I’d sure be tickled to stand on my head for you right now and stay on it as long as you say, if you’ll only let me go like I ought to. Could I please stand on my head right away, Miss Stephena? Please, ma’m, let me stand on my head.”

“Don’t be silly, Ganus,” she said.

There was the sound of an automobile in the street below. Ganus ran to the window and looked out. He was momentarily relieved when he saw that it was a strange car that soon passed out of sight without stopping. He turned from the window and came back to the center of the room.

“Miss Stella and Mr. Charley might be coming home early any minute now, Miss Stephena.” He gazed longingly over his shoulder at the bright sunshine out of doors. “Something terrible’s liable to happen, Miss Stephena,” he began again. He was looking down at the floor when he found himself staring at the yellow silk pajamas. Snatching them up, he went cautiously toward the bed, shyly holding the garment at arm’s length. “Please put these things on, Miss Stephena, please. Put them on quick! Something awful’s going to happen. I just know it is. Please put them on like they belong and don’t stay out of them any longer.” Stephena threw the pajamas aside. Tears came to his eyes. “Please don’t do this to me, Miss Stephena. It’s awful to be teased like you’re doing. I don’t have a bit of business being in here when you’re sprang out of all your clothes like that. It’s the worst thing a colored boy could be caught at. They’d murder me alive for sure, just like Mr. Charley said they would if he ever caught me doing something a colored boy oughtn’t. Won’t you please put those clothes on right away, Miss Stephena, like you ought to? I don’t want them to kill me. I want to stay alive. I don’t want to die.”

“If you don’t do what I want you to, I’ll scream,” she warned him, unmoved. Ganus stared at her, his mouth falling open. He was thoroughly frightened. He could feel his knees coming together with a jar that shook his whole body. “And if I scream, somebody’ll hear me, and they’ll come in the house. When they found you in here, you know what’d happen, don’t you, Ganus?”

“I sure do, Miss Stephena!” he cried out in an agonized voice. “Please don’t do that! Have mercy on me, Miss Stephena! Please don’t stay out of your clothes! I don’t want to die!”

She sprang to the floor and ran to him. Ganus closed his eyes, but in another moment he could smell the familiar aroma of her body.

“Nobody’ll ever know, Ganus,” he heard her pleading in a voice that sounded far away. “I promise never to tell a soul as long as I live. That’s the honest truth. Cross my heart!” He opened his eyes at last. “Don’t you believe me, Ganus?”

“I believe you, Miss Stephena, if you tell me to,” he said through trembling lips. “I mean, I want to believe you, Miss Stephena. But I can’t!”

When he realized what he had said, he shut his eyes tightly, fearing that at any moment he would feel the stinging blow of her hand on his face. While he stood there with his eyes closed, he tried to imagine what it would be like to be somewhere far away in the country running from the Singfield house as fast as he could. When he finally opened his eyes, Stephena was still standing in front of him. She was smiling up at him with wild-eyed excitement.