(Lashay)
Solomon Simpson got a head like a big brown kickball, and it wobble and bounce on his neck when he get excited. Right now he swinging on them playground swings, and even though he swinging forward and back, his head going right-left-up-down. He talking the whole time, too, but I ain't following half of what he say cause sometime he talking from one side, sometime the other.
“So then that nappy-head girl say, ‘Boy, I know you ain't saying nothing to me,' and he say, ‘You know I am,' and I say, ‘Girl, you better believe he don't play,' and Piece say, ‘That right, I don't,' and then—Lashay, you listening?“
“Sure,” I say. “I just don't see who all you talking bout.”
This make him angry, and his head circle faster than normal. “I talking bout Piece and that nasty-mouth girl Tala Thompson. I talking bout the same folks I been talking bout. You stupid or something, girl?”
“Boy, you talking too fast bout he say, she say, I say, we say. How I suppose know who he-I-she is?”
Solomon pull his legs way in on the backswing, let them out on the front and jump. He fly way up in the air, come down steady on both legs, thrust his arms in the air and his head back and do a bow. “You'd know if you was listening.”
I start to say something smart, then think bout how Solomon just gone sulk and whine all day til I give in and let him tell his story. Men all like that, is what my sister Latasha say. They got to be right, got to have somebody tell them they know what they talking bout even when they don't know nothing. “Boy, just start at the beginning and talk slow.”
He tilt his big head sideways and grin. “So like I been said, I was over at them ball courts at Booker T, and Tala Thompson come up, look round for who she gone start in on, and start talking my ear off bout ‘Piece one ugly black boy can't play no ball,' and Piece hear his name, he come up and she keep on, and he say he gone knock her upside her head, and she say, 'Go on then, boy, hit me,' and he make like he gone do it. She look him straight in the eye, don't move when he swing his hand. She don't move an inch. Piece, he just shake his head, say, ‘Girl, you out your mind,' and go back to playing ball.”
“He right,” I say. “That girl crazy, crazy, crazy. Crazy-stupid, talk all that junk to a big ol boy like that.” Piece like thirteen-year-old and in the sixth grade. He got wide shoulder and a thick neck, a deep man-voice like them kind boys my sisters at Booker go with. He smooth, that what he is.
Solomon turn, look at me hard. “She crazy. But she ain't stupid. If he'd hit her she'd be stupid. She tough is what she is. She don't back down to nobody.”
I look at Solomon. He not the biggest or fastest boy in fourth grade, and like I been said, he funny looking. He get pushed round by all them big boys, even some of them girls, too, til I told them I gone whup them, they don't leave him be. “Boy, you the one that stupid. He ain't hit her cause she was a girl, not cause she run her big fat mouth.”
Solomon let his head fall to the side. “Maybe. Maybe you don't know it all.”
“Maybe, boy, I know more than you.”
“Don't.”
“Do.”
“Don't.”
I grin. “Don't.”
“Do,” he say, then he look at me, think bout what he said, and bust out laughing.
“Come on,” I say, and start across the playground for Wiggins road.
“Where we going?” Solomon not moving yet.
“Papa Red Store,” I say, patting my pocket so he can hear my quarters jingle.
“Ooooweee girl, you got you some money,” Solomon say, hopping to catch up. “What you gone get me?”
“Gone get you a lot,” I call over my shoulder. “Whole lot of nothing.”
Big Red Store probably been painted before, but whatever color they put on sure ain't there now. It just kind of wood color, with one big ol white sign over the door that say, simply, “Store.” There a bell on the door so folks can't come in or get out without Big Red knowing, and he don't miss much anyhow. Big Red got his name cause he like seven feet tall and got Choctaw in him, though what “red” have to do with it I don't know, cause Big Red skin yellow-brown like dust. His face long and narrow, and his hair gone gray cept his sideburns white. Don't nobody mess with Big Red. Story I heard was Precious cousin Jerry try run out the door with a bag of hot chips, and Red run out the street and chase him down fore he made the corner. Folks say he took that boy head, put it into a fence. Right on through it.
When we inside Big Red sitting back the counter watching a little black TV, and he don't seem to notice us even though you know he got to have heard the bell. He like a statue or something, he so big and solid and still. There all kind things in Big Red Store—medicine and beer, charcoal for to barbecue, meat and even some squashes and vegetable stuff. What I want is candy and hot chips, which Big Red keep in front on wire racks. I look at the foil bags of chips, the bright color candy laid out in rows, then dig in my pocket and get the money Papa give me. There six dimes, two quarters, a nickel and four pennies.
“Let's see,” I say. “Gone need me some chocolate. Some sour-kind candy. Some—“
“—Thing for poor hungry Solomon,” Solomon bust in, his mouth right by my ear.
“Some ‘Shut up, boy, cause you talk too much,' for Solomon.”
“Say you gone get me something.”
“Say you gone stop running your fat mouth so I can figure what I gone buy with my money.” Sometime the boy just too much. Problem is, Solomon my practice boyfriend. Not cause I like him. Just cause I gone need practice fore I get a real man.
Solomon shake his head and sigh. “This here what Reverend Winston been said bout how it go for the greedy and selfish.” He puff out his chest, talk all low and deep like Reverend Winston do on Sunday. “And so the Bible tell us—“ he take a long, long pause for no reason, like Reverend Winston always do, “--to do right. It tell us: Give onto our neighbor our Daily Bread. And so I say onto you, give Solomon his daily hot chips, for that be my eternal will.”
“Mmm hmm,” I say. Solomon do a pretty good Reverend Wilson. He always do voices and thing like that, which another reason don't nobody give him no respect. I reach out and get a bag of Sour Gummy Worms, check that price tag and add what I got. Five cent left, which I gone save for later. “That mess ain't nowhere in no holy book.”
“Book of Solomon, 10:5,” he say.
“And Reverend Winston don't share nothing with nobody. You seen that man Escalade?”
Solomon eye catch the comic rack at the counter and he start for it, say, “Don't blame me when the devil take you, girl.”
“You the one the devil gone take, all talk talk talk bout the Bible say buy Solomon hot chips.” That shut him up for a second—say something once and it don't always stick, but three times is the charm.
He shake his head, pull out a Superman comic and flip the pages. Big Red shift in his chair.
“Don't bend the pages.”
“No sir,” Solomon say. He flip through, hold up a picture of Superman with two big ol black thug under his big muscle-arm, point at the one who got gold earring and a little beard.
“Here your Papa getting his butt beat.”
I look closer. Actually, it do look like Papa. Papa got that same long jaw and little beard. “No white dude wearing no red underwear gone lay hands on my Papa.”
“Put that back if you ain't buying it,” Big Red say, and you can tell he ain't playing.
Solomon close the comic and set it carefully on the rack. “Sorry, sir.”
Big Red shake his head, look back at his TV.
Solomon glance at me. “We gone go, or you gone take all day thinking bout what you gone buy?”
“I gone take all day.”
Solomon shake his head, stomp out the door and disappear round the corner. He just being foolish, and I know he waiting there in the shade. Latasha say that the way it is with men, that they got to make they point, stomp and fuss and holler while the woman take care of they business.
I count the money out, get Solomon hot chips and my Sour Worms, and set my things on the counter front of Big Red. “This all I gone need.”
Solomon got his mouth full of hot-chips and my mouth all pucker-up from gummy worms by the time we back to Farrow. Sky dark-cloudy and still and feel too close, like it pushing down. We get over by that wreck where them raggedy Walkers live, and Seanna and Willie on the porch. She got her arm round his shoulders like she the boy mama or something. Solomon wave at them. The girl Seanna who in our grade lift her hand a little, then let it fall when she see it me. Got her well-trained. Don't like that girl. “Boy, why you waving at them stanky children?”
Solomon look at me, stuff hot chips in his mouth. “She live down the way,” he say. “She ain't so bad.”
“Ain't so bad?” I say. “Boy, you know what Latasha say his momma do?”
Solomon shake his head.
“She say that Walker woman do the wild thing for money.”
“The what?”
I shake my head in disgust. “Boy, she do it.”
“Ohhh,” he say. “It.”
“It.”
Solomon get an odd look on his face. Then he say, “That ain't nothing.”
“What you mean?”
He blink, look at me. “Know how I was talking bout Tala?”
“Sure, boy. She your hero.”
“Naw,” he say. He stop on the sidewalk, look all round with his bobble head as if he think somebody care what he gone say. “Well, you know that man John-John live next door?”
“Sure,” I say. “He go with Rita, Tala mama.”
He nod his head. “Mmmhmm. And he do it with Tala.”
“It?” I say. And suddenly, thinking bout that my face get red and I feel kind of sick and hot all at once. Solomon look pleased with hisself.
“That her mama boyfriend. That—that wrong. How you know, boy?”
“Cause I can hear them. They do it after school on Wednesday and Friday. If you out back my house it easy for to hear them.”
“What it sound like?”
Solomon look serious. “Not like it sound on TV. If they ain't music playing, it all quiet. She don't never make no noise. He go uhhhh, uhhhh, and that bout it.”
“Boy,” I say, “if she don't make no noise, how you know it her?”
Now his face go red, and he shake his head.
“How?”
He turn his head, look at the sidewalk. “Cause I can see in the window.”
I start to open my mouth, close it. Don't none of it seem real, but if there one thing Solomon can't do, it lie. Which mean it must be true.
All week, all I can think bout is John-John and Tala. Three time at dinner Papa had asked me for salt, and I ain't paid no attention til he hit the table, and say, ‘Lashay, wake up!' I don't never cross Papa like that, I usually his favorite little angel. Mama, she ask me can I help her do the dishes, and I say yes and then forget til she come get me, and she not happy. Latasha even have to go back and tell me what happen at the end of all our shows, saying, Lashay, you lost on some boy or something?' I tell her yes, that all, I crushing on some boy, which make sense to her cause all she do is crush on boys. She laugh, take me in the bathroom and put some eye makeup and lash stuff and lip gloss on me, and say how I look pretty now, that now every boy will want me. When I look in the mirror it just seem like me—braids gone a little loose, a nose that too big, and my eyes all paint up. Course I tell her thanks, and ask can she do it for me again, cause I know this a special thing girls do. As soon as she gone I wash it all off before Mama see, cause I know Mama think I too young. All the time, all I can think is how a big grown man like that—and John-John big, six-foot maybe, with all kind blotchy skin and his face all scruffy-- look without no clothes on. What his leg and hip look like with nothing on them, what his thing do. How any of it work.
Finally, I find Solomon at school, tell him I got to see. He get all scared. “What if he see us?” Solomon say. “What if you all ‘aaaahhh' or screaming like a girl or something?”
I lift my hand, step toward Solomon. “Who can take who, boy?”
Solomon blink. It not like me to call him out. Finally he shake his head. “We try on Wednesday,” he say. “We try. But we gone be careful.”
Waiting for Wednesday, it seem like time don't move. Seem like nothing matter cept for what gone come. At night, I dream bout John-John, and sometime I Tala in the dream, and he touch the side of my face and his fingers soft. At all day long in class and at recess I watch Tala. We lucky to have us one nice China-man teacher come from California, and Tala his favorite cause she twelve-years-old and smart and tough. She play kickball with all them big boys, bean them with the ball and cuss them out til they give her what she want. Watching her, it all start to make sense. She not so grown, that girl, but she know something. It there in the way she rest all her weight on one leg when she stand, as if she always ready to leap, the way she hold her chin up high and proud and don't wait for nobody. She want something, she just go in and take it. She don't say mine, mine, mine-- she just claim it.
On Wednesday I lost up in my head. Mr. Kato try to call on me in class and each time I give him a blank look and stare at my desk. Words don't seem to make no sense at all. Mr. Kato bring me to his desk, give me a little smile that most times would make me blush. “Are you ok, Lashay?” he ask. He always say my full name, like nobody ever told him he could drop the first part and he don't want to make assumptions. I tell him I fine, I just having trouble today, that I be better tomorrow.
He nod and say, “Ok, Lashay. Just wanted to be sure.”
I smile for him, and it reach my lips, but I ain't thinking bout how he nice. Ain't thinking bout nothing but meeting Solomon.
When the bell ring I race for the gates, wait for Solomon for what seem like forever. Finally he come, and I grab him by his arm, pull him down the street toward Wiggins. He drag back, whine. “Let go my arm, girl!”
I let go. “Just—hurry,” I say.
“Ain't no rush. She don't come for a while.”
I don't care what he say, I want to get there. It a cool day, not raining but looking like it want to, black edges on gray clouds and no sign of sun. I walk fast up Wiggins, Solomon hopping to match me, on past that big round water tower and Big Red store. Solomon look at the store like he want to go in. “You got money?” he say.
I glare at him, and he slow his step. “I mean it, girl,” he say. “If I gone take you, you gone get me something?”
I got money. Papa give me his change this morning. “When we come back.”
Solomon nod and we keep on, turn off Wiggins near Solomon place. It almost country out here, the road dirt and a few trees filled with little black birds that always crying “scree scree scree.” Solomon house a little trailer one room with a chain fence. He nod at the place next door as we come to it. “That there John-John place.” It look just like his house, and the wall for Solomon place so tight to John-John's it seem like you can't hardly walk around. Solomon pull the key out a chain round his neck, turn it in the door and we inside. “Mama don't come home till five,” Solomon say.
Inside, there two white couches and a TV, a little flat table and, off in the corner, a cot. Solomon go to the TV, turn it on. It some white folks talking, them things Latasha and Mama call “Soaps,” which stupid since they ain't no soap on the show. Maybe it cause them white folks got to stay real clean cause they always wearing fancy kind clothes. “You gone change it?” I say.
Solomon turn away, say, “We ain't got no cable.”
“Ain't got no cable!”
Solomon shake his head. I bout to say more, but I get to looking round and it seem like they ain't much here. Solomon don't have no sisters like me, no brothers, and I ain't never heard bout his Papa. Guess he ain't got much. “Well,” I say. “We watch this, then.”
Solomon look like he know I just being nice. He hurry to the kitchen, come back holding a can. “Look,” he say. “You had this?”
It beer like Papa drink. “Sure, I had it.” Which ain't true, but I ain't gone let Solomon know. The can say “Miller High-Life,” and there some c-word so long I can't even try to say it.
Solomon look disappointed I ain't surprised. “Well, you want some?”
“Sure.” Solomon pop the top of the can, hand it to me. The can cool in my hand. I hold it near my nose, breath in. Smell kind of like pickle juice or cold greens. I smile, take a drink. It awful, like juice gone rotten, and I almost spit it out, force myself to swallow and hand the can back to Solomon. Don't know why nobody would drink that. “Thanks. That all I want.”
Solomon nod, take the can and set it on the little table, then he go to the TV and turn the sound so it almost off. “Don't want to miss it when she come.”
We sit there on the couch and watch them white folk on TV. The whole thing don't make no sense, all them people looking the same, all yellow-hair and pale and thin. All the women keep crying and carrying on, and all the men just kind of stand, or they scowl and stomp here and there. I start thinking bout John-John again, picturing him bare. Then there a knock at the door. I turn to Solomon. “Somebody coming here?”
Solomon shake his head. “That next door,” he say quiet. He go and turn off the TV, then he motion for me to come, and I stand. Can hear voices now, quiet ones, a man that must be John-John and a girl voice that got to be Tala. Solomon lead me past the kitchen counter to a window covered in slats. He peer through one of the gaps, then step to the side. “Look.”
I stand on my tip-toe, lean to the gap. Can see right through the window into John-John house. There a white bed in the middle. Tala standing, facing the window, and John-John bare back right in front. He wearing only some shorts, and as I watch he reach something I can't see that got to be the radio and suddenly rap music bumping, the whole room shaking with it, filling with it til I feel danger clear over in our room too. Tala don't look like she usually do, her head kind of bowed and her shoulders folded in. Her face got a hard tight look. She still facing the window, and as I watch she reach and shrug off her shirt, unhook her bra, let her belt loose and step out her pants. She don't look like no woman, all curves like Mama when she undress-- Tala thin at the shoulder and hip and legs. She only in her underwear now, white with little yellow flowers, and she cross her arms like she cold, her hands covering each elbow. I feel something turn in me, something sick like shame and I can't look away. John-John take her by the arms and push her facedown on the bed, move her further up so her legs off the bed and her feet dangle to the floor. His back thick with muscle, can see the lines of his shoulder-blades ripple as he reach down, yank Tala underpant off and run his hands along there. Then he pulling off his short, and I can see the two round melon of his butt cheek as he kind of settle on top of her, and then you can't hardly see her at all. It just him swaying up and down, his butt jiggling and little rolls of flesh at his neck going tight and loose and tight and suddenly I sink down and everything spinning.
Then Solomon got this hand on my shoulder. “Lashay. You okay?”
I'm ain't, but I nod anyway, and Solomon edge round me and peer through. I scoot to the side a little, but I still can't breathe. I keep picturing John-John bare back, the way Tala disappear under him. Then I hear Solomon take in his breath loud, and a woman start screaming so high it don't even sound human til it break to cursing and yelling. “Ooooweee,” he say. “It Rita.”
“What?” I stand, and Solomon move to the side. Inside, everything gone crazy. Tala eyes huge and she crying at the corner of the bed with a sheet pulled up halfway round her. John-John trying get his shorts back on, but Rita hitting him with her arms, her hands, and I can hear him yelling now, and then Rita turn to Tala, her eyes so big and angry she like a cartoon, and she slap Tala cross the face so hard Tala fall off the bed. The music seem even louder than before, as if the thump of that beat driving what going on, making everybody act all out of control, and I feel fear rising in me, fear like somebody gone see us here, like they gone know we watching. “Let's go,” I say to Solomon and make for the door, and he follow me out the road where there a green Chevy car that wasn't there before. I start to run and then I sprinting even though Solomon calling for me to slow down, racing down the road with Solomon huffing behind me til the beat of the rap music ain't there no more, til we turn the block and Solomon house and John-John house all the way out of sight.
Solomon and me walk and walk, and I can't get calm. We go all the way past the school, stand at the edge of them courts watching them Booker boys. They tall and grown, have they shirts off, some of them, even though it cloudy, and all I can see is John-John bent over Tala with his wide bare back, and I afraid them players gone come for me and I make Solomon leave. We go on up Farrow and Uncle Bo, Mama brother, out pushing a mower on his lawn, and he say, “Hi baby,” to me and smile, and I stare at him, at the sweat all bead up on his bald head and his thick shoulders and I can't even wave cause I still hearing that music, hearing Rita scream. We circle all round, and everywhere it don't feel safe. Finally Solomon say, “I hungry.”
“Hungry?” Don't seem like the words make no sense.
Solomon look angry, and I realize I had promised him something from Big Red Store. Can't tell what he think bout this whole thing. Guess he seen this for a long time, now. Don't know how he can go back and watch. Don't make no sense. Maybe he mad cause now that Rita found out it seem like something gone change. “Let's go,” I say, and turn and head for Big Red's. Anything better than staying still.
At Big Red's, Red sitting behind the counter like he always do, and there two older boys inside. One of them Piece, his uniform pants sagged low. He swaggering on through the aisles. The other boy skinny and got his ear pierced with a little silver ring. I keep looking at them and looking away, thinking bout what they hiding, what they can do. Solomon and I go to the candy rack, stand there together. Solomon not talking, just watching Piece, and I remember what Solomon had said bout how Tala win an argument with Piece. I can't figure what I want to buy, just keep glancing at the boys. They eyeing us now. Then Big Red rumbling voice make us all turn. “You boys buying something?”
Piece get a kind of half-grin on his face, and he turn and make for the front. “Guess I ain't,” he say. As he pass me he look at me up and down, and a tingle break over me. The other boy follow, the door clanking as they leave. Solomon look at me hard. “You gone choose?” he say.
I shake my head. I don't think I can eat. I take a bag of hot chips and go and pay, toss Solomon the bag and then we go on outside.
As we turn the building corner, Piece and the other boy step in front of us. Solomon shrink back, and I do too. Piece lean so close I can feel his warm breath on my ear. “Hey, girl. What your name?”
“Sha-Lashay,” I say, my voice small.
“Lashay,” he say. He lean in so he whispering now. “I like that name. I seen you watching me.”
I stare at him; I was watching. I think bout John-John and Tala. Then I hear Solomon. “Leave her be!”
Piece turn, look at Solomon like he had just seen him. “What you say, boy?”
Solomon standing with his hot chips in one hand, but he got his other hand in a fist. His head turned to the side with a stubborn set I ain't never seen before. “Leave her be,” he repeat.
Piece move so quick I don't hardly even see him, and then Solomon on the ground, and the other boy with the earring kicking him, Piece kicking him, and I just standing there. Then it over, Solomon laying there moaning and I can see he bleeding from the mouth. His hot chips have fell to one side, and Piece reach down and pick them up, toss them to the boy with the earring.
“Here, D,” he say, and the boy take the bag, pop it open and start eating. Piece turn toward me, and he flash me a smile that all strength and teeth. “That right, baby. You do like me. Ain't that right, Lashay?”
I meet his eyes, his gaze heavy on me. Solomon crying, but it far off like from another room. Piece smile, lean in so I can smell his sharp thick man-scent, and can't see Solomon at all.
“Yeah,” I say, tilting my head playful like I seen grown girls do when they trying be sexy. Feeling how now I'm them. I settle back to the hard hot bricks. “That's right. I like you.”