The Kid (28 page)

“Put her in the room Dolly useta work out of, figure out what to do with the crumb crusher. He reach in his pocket pull out a shiny brown leather billfold hand Betsy a bill. Git her what she need. Then hip her to the scam she don’t get it already. Start her off Friday.

“Well, uh, first thing usses need to do is run some bathwater. Y’all got any clothes?

“Jus’ what we got on.

“I got drawers and garter belts, but you need to get some stockin’s from Two-Bit, she small like you. We’ll get you a dress and some shoes today. What’s her name?

“Mary.

“We’ll find her something jus’ so she can get out of what she got on. After tomorrow night you’ll probably have enough money to go out and get her something. Come on, let me show you your room.

“Thas de room you in now. Back den it was somethin’, at least to me it was. You gotta remember even in de white lady’s house I make her bed ’n me ’n Mary sleep on a pallet on de floor. Back at Auntie’s I sleeps on de floor, dirt floor. Dis room raggedy but everythin’ in de same place it was when it was fine—bed, vanity table, mirror you done broke, little chairs, floor different, useta be shiny hardwood wit’ white bearskin rugs, real fur. Das gone, white fur rug, de white ’n gold bedspreads ’n curtains, look like a movie when I walked through de door. ’N dat someone like me, a motherless chile, gonna rest my head on a bed. Thas somethin’! Don’ fault me. People come rent de room out, mess up stuff, steal, rearrange shit, I push it right back. Finally I jus’ stop rentin’ out rooms, live off what dey give me, everythin’ else is too much trouble. My eyes ain’ what dey was but dey still good. I can see de colors all like mold on de inside of de garbage can. I don’ know when dat wallpaper got put up. Locusses everywhere. Sign from de Bible us rushin’ toward de last days ’n times. I thought ’bout you. You nevah thought ’bout me?”

She turns her head and looks me in the eye, it gives me the creeps!

I shake my head as some kind of answer, but I just feel sad and bewildered. It’s like I’m sitting here trying not to listen. A part of me is standing, looking at me sitting here, and saying, this can’t be my life. I feel sad, but mostly I don’t feel nothing. Nothing. Except I’ve fallen down a hole there might not be a bottom to, and I’m trying to figure out what to do. But I know I’m too young, too young. Whatever this is talking at me, is it really happening?

“You talk ’bout dancin’?” she says. “I seed ’em all! Imagine! You cain’t! You cain’t imagine all de people I done heard sing, de beauties I done seed dance. Dance? Thas good, boy, thas as close to God as you gonna git in dis world. Forgit church, every preacher in town damn near was a regular up here. But I seed em down at de club, Bubbles, Cookie, Honi, Chuck Green, big ol’ dark fella dance like an angel. De tappers, den was de interpretive dancers. Dey was big names back den, young. I seed ’em come through too. One night Pearl Primus herse’f, yes indeedy. Dat woman jumped five feet in de air if she jumped a inch! Den she did a dance to some country blues near ’bout tear my heart out watchin’ it. Made me think of de plantation, all what I escaped from, runned away from. Even all I been through, I still think it good I left. Josh White record playing while she dancin’. Everybody sittin’ dere knowed what she was talkin’’bout or was holdin’ on to somebody dat knew.

“’N Chuck! Honey, Chuck step out sometimes to drums, piano, but most of de time ain’ ’comp’niment, he
is
de music ’n he ain’ no lil’ faggot. He was a big guy like you, ’n when dem feets, heel toe, ra-ta-tat-tat-tat tap, slappa ball heel ’n I don’ know all what else, but he don’ need no drum, he is de drum ’n de horn too. It was magic. I nevah tried it, nevah even thought ’bout tryin’ it. It seemed almos’ mo’ den my eyes could bear to really see it, hear it. Like love makin’ or when a car comin’ headlong fast ’n de dog or cat in its way—disaster. All dat rolled into one: love, disaster. When I watch him dance movin’ his feet steppin’ time over de top like dat, my bones hurt. I remember what I’m always tryin’ to forgit, walkin’ on dat highway, Mary like a wagon I’m pullin’ like my own death, tryin’ to keep it behind me. Heavy, dat chile was heavy. Ain’ no nature to it. What go in go out! Shit, nothin’ go in ’n she still big. I hate her almos’ since she born. I remember all dat ’n I forgits all dat when I watch dat man dance. First time I see Chuck Green, my mouf fall open, you hear me! It’s like a animal crawl up my back bite my head ’n crawl inside me. I feel like I got snakes in me, sex snakes! Beymour say, I like watchin’ you watch. I think you see inside the music or whatever be up there. But it ain’ all dat. He give me too much credit. I don’ see inside, I jus’ let it take me ovah ’n don’ nothin’ else exist outside dat man movin’ up dere, man I ain’ never gonna get, be. Dey only up dere ten, fifteen minutes, half hour at de mos’. So what’s dat when it’s de only good thang might happen to you all week. Times watchin’ dem was de only time ’n people didn’t try to make you feel like less. I knew what I was, what de lady at de drugstore knew when we came in to buy de catheters ’n quinine, de rubbers, Kwell’n all dat, what de man at de liquor store know when we gettin’JB sent up by de case. Reefer man know it. You know dat song: Fancy women, dey de envy of de women ’n de rulers of de men! Maybe in de dark. I liked de night, in de night we was somethin’! De dancers too. Daytime dey got Ginger Rogers ’n Fred Astaire on de Hollywood TV. Ain’ gonna let no big nigger like Chuck Green get his talent on in de light. I hated goin’ out in streets big broad daylight. I felt everybody lookin’ at me. Even people shit’s stinkier den yo’s turn away, make ’em feel good to have someone under ’em. Don’ you serve dat function! But club people is our people! What we care ’bout what de Lady drinkin’ or shootin’, who give a fuck’bout who got sent what place or other. All we cares is when is our music comin’ back. Dey singin’ ’n dancin’ fo’ us as much, shit
mo’,
den dey singin’’n dancin’ fo’ de white folks crawl up here. By de time I got to New Yawk, all dat ol’ nigger hebben shit was ovah, more stuff goin’ on downtown den up here. Dey took de talent ’n left de drugs.

“Look I ain’ crazy, I know you probably ain’ gonna stay—don’ make no difference, you grown. I don’ care thirteen or fourteen. I had yo’ gran’ma when I was ten, yo’ mama had you when she was sixteen, Mongo when she was twelve. But I tell you somethin’, lil’ pop-up nigger, you forgit me you gonna die yo’sef. J.J.? Hush wit’ dat shit. Abdul, dat’s what yo’ mama called you. Dis place useta be somethin’! You could stay here, fix it up, ’n it be yo’s when I die. Put de lease in yo’ name. Shit, you know I had my first tub bath in dis house.

“Come on, Betsy say. Let’s hit the tub! You first, then the little one.

“I done cleaned a tub befo’, but I nevah been in one myself. I tell Betsy dat. She say, What you mean? I tell her, I worked a white woman’s house in Mississippi, cleaned her house, tub ’n all—

“She don’t allow you in it?

“I don’ even ask. Down dere you know what’s allowed. I clean mysef in de kitchen wit’ a bucket ’n soap.

“Well, get ready, she say. Ain’ no hot water bill in New Yawk! She fill de tub wit’ warm water ’n bubbles! When I sticked my foot in dat water, it feel so good I laugh. Feel like I’m in hebben warm water ’n bubbles all ovah me, up in my coochie, titties, back, perfume smell. Great oogla moogla! ’N I’m lookin’ out de window see all ovah de city lights sparklin’. I nevah seed de like!

“Betsy say, We up on a hill in Harlem, plus de apartment itsef sit up on a hill. Nice, ain’ it? I’m gonna scrub yo’ back ’n wash yo’ hair. I’ll straighten it later.

“All I say is, OK.

“She’s sittin’ on de toilet stool paintin’ her toenails. True what Beymour say? she ask me.

“Ma’am?

“Hush with that shit! Cain’t call me Betsy, don’t call me at all! She laugh at her fast talk.

“Betsy?

“Beymour say you ain’t but fifteen years old, and he was downtown puttin’ one of the girls on the bus for Vegas, and he come out and seen you standing in the station with the girl, and you followed him home. That true?”

“Only half true, but I say yes anyway.

“You ever worked in a place like this before?

“What kinda place dis is?

“It’s a ho house.

“She come over help me rinse de soap from my head. Den she spurt some mo’ shampoo in my head, lather it up, her fingers in my head de best thing I done felt, ever.

“What’s a ho house?”

“She gits up ’n open de faucet, runnin’ her fingers through my hair wit’ de water.

“You got a nice grade of hair, long too—shoot! I done messed up my toenails messin’ with you. Don’t matter. She laughs. I didn’t like that color no way! Give me a excuse to put on another color!

“Den she hold de sides of my face in her hands ’n look in my eyes. Poontang, pussy, coochie, sock, cunt, fish—we sell it here.

“Sell—

“Sell, honey. She pat her pussy. This here is a ho house.

“I git it now, she a fancy woman ’n dis a house of sin! She point to de washcloth, point to de soap, den rub her hands together. Lather up! All them places you couldn’t get standing up on a dirt floor with a bucket, I know, honey, git ’em now!

“I rub de soap cloth tween my legs.

“Stand up and do it! OK, now you done done it good, sit down.

“Umph feels good! Soap smells good, like perfume.

“Girl, you sure got some bowlegs on you! Bowlegs and big feet. But you built up nice, titties don’t look like you had a baby at all. Bet you can wear my shoes, a nine-ten? What do you think? I really don’ know.

“Mens like bowlegged women, I hear tell.

“I look out de window.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like mens?

“What’s to like? What I’m lookin’ at, mo’ lights den you can count, lights movin’ on cars like glow eye of flies, streets, houses full of light. Dis what God see, I know it.

“I ask her question back to her. You like mens?

“She laugh. Honey, I dooze it wit’ ’em, don’t I!

“She fills a pot of warm water from de faucet ’n pours it ovah my head. I can’t wait to get my hands on your head, honey! I love to do hair. When I get me enough moola, dat’s what I’m gonna do, open me up a little salon, but that’s a way down the line. Let me tell you how things go. We get all dressed up, sit in the parlor, one drink, that’s all. This a class joint, best in Harlem, not the biggest but the best. Beymour run this better than a woman! So you know hair, nails, everything. The mens come in the door, walk down the hall, look at us. Go back and tell Beymour which one they want. Beymour settle the cash, walk the man up to us, safe, no funny stuff. This better than downtown. I been wit’ Big Black awhile, downtown, Jersey, I been aroun’!

“What you do wif de mens?

“You do whatever they want you to do. Suck they johnson, dance around, talk nasty, let ’em talk nasty to you, suck you, if they pay for it, pee on you! They gets to come once in your pussy. Then push ’em off you. They wanna come again, spend longer than they time, they got to pay again! Don’t be afraid to call Beymour ’bout nothin’! You here to make money not get all wore out! Understand?

“I nods my head.”

As she says it, I nod too. I’m disappearing in her story. As if now don’t exist, as if I don’t exist.

“You know whar I first do it?” She’s looking at me, but I don’t blink, acknowledge. We’re both watching a movie.

“Down de hall, dat room Mary useta be in till dey carry her outta here. Dey call it ‘breakin’ luck.’ Well, if I evah had any—luck dat is—’n I don’ remember havin’ any, dat what it did—broke it! It’s like a curse. Who wanna be a ho? Our whole life happen here. Seem like it end here too. Carl fuck Mary here. She ain’ move over to Lenox till after yo’ mother was born. Yo’ room whar it happen. But Mary’s ol’ room, mine now, whar I first do it fo’ money.”

OK, do I need this? I haven’t had enough, this bag of rags is a ho? I think of fire, if she was burning.

“I ain’ nevah had my hair straightened befo’. OK, Betsy say. So dry off, rub some of this on your behind and let me get to that head of yours!

“You know I hadn’t had dat done befo’, always jus’ wore my hair, come to think of it, jus’ like it is now, braids! But Betsy grab it up, set me in a chair, I’m tellin’ you she pull out dis big ol’ jar of Dixie Peach, hot comb,’n a curlin’ iron. I didn’t know mysef a hour later!

“De dress Betsy give me is orange silk, long on me but tight ’n shiny, show my hiney off good. Her shoes did fit, I got on someone else’s brazzeer, ’n Betsy done got me a little white garter belt wit’ little pink roses on it fo’ holdin’ up my first pair of nylons!

“It’s not like I know what to do when I git in de room wit’ de guy. I raise de dress Betsy give me ovah my head, drop it all orange ’n silky on a chair. I got on de white garter belt holdin’ up off-black stockin’s. I ain’ got no drawers on. Hair on my bush thick as hair on my head back den. I look in de guy’s eyes, don’ see nothin’. I don’ know what to do. I’m fifteen years old. I nevah been alone in a room wit’ a white man befo’. So I walks over to de bed, lay down, ’n spread my legs apart. Stare at him hard. My name is John, he say. Now, I ain’ been off de bus a week yet, so how I know his name ain’ John, but I do. What’s your name? He talk so proper like a king. Toosie, I say. How’d you get a name like that? I dunno, I tell him. I don’ tell him dey call me Gal at La Croix. I hear Master Croix call his dog Toosie, he say it so nice. I want dat name, I think. Next time Auntie call me Gal, I say Toosie my name. Whar you come up with dat? Yo’ mama ain’ named you none of dat. What she name me? I says. Don’ remember, but it wadn’t none of dat. Yeah it was, I say. Auntie look at me funny, but she call me Toosie next day. I don’ answer to nothin’ else after dat. But I don’ tell all dat to John. I jus’ tell John I dunno.”

A dog’s name? She’s what, the mother of my mother’s mother? I ain’t buying that, I don’t see how, she don’t look like me at all.

“So anyway ‘John’ walk ovah ’n sit down on de side of de bed wit’ all his clothes on. He put his fingers in my coochie. Nice! he say. He bend down kiss my coochie! I ain’ nevah had no one kiss me down dere befo’. Den he lick it. Ooowhee! Do you like it? Yeah!”