Such Sweet Thunder (53 page)

And suddenly he was finished. The melody had fled in the face of his self-consciousness, and the words of the song were crowded out of mind by thoughts that were animated by the clean shining objects in the orderly kitchen. Like Booker T. Washington’s, he thought for an instant, and then the thought suddenly disappeared as quickly as it had
come, into the blue darkness of the middle room and became lost within the depths of a pleasant melancholy feeling. He turned on the rose-shaded lamp and began putting the room in order.

“You ain’ been blue,” he sang, hanging Rutherford’s pajamas on a hook in the closet, putting Viola’s stockings in the middle drawer of the chest of drawers: “Nooooo-no-no …! Yoooou ain’ been bluuuuuuue —” arranging the shoes in a neat row in the little space between the bed and the chest of drawers, dusted the bedposts and the vanity dresser and the back, runners, and rounds of the wicker-bottomed rocking chair. “Till you’ve had that — mooood indigo. That feelin’ … comes stealin’ —” His eyes closed before the mirror of the vanity dresser. “down to my —”

“Now git to bed!” said an imperative voice.

Boom!

He opened his eyes and stared into the mirrored image of Rutherford’s face. The skin tightened around his diminishing body and the floor rushed up to meet his downcast gaze.

“Yessir.”

He sank heavily into bed. He heard Viola ascend the stairs and enter the room. He closed his eyes when she arranged the covers.

“Good night,” she whispered. He did not answer. She went into the kitchen where Rutherford was. Low mumblings filled the front room. Now there were other voices, four. Then laughter, and movement, the icebox door opened and shut, beer bottles hissed open, and finally there was the smell of frying hair.

“Sund’y,” said one of the voices.

Sund’y! He felt the word whirl around in the darkness under his tight skin like a sun, deeper and deeper into the blackness flowing like a river, flowing like a deep black river, fluid black flesh flowing like a deep black river:
I want to c-r-o-s-s … o-ver into…
.

A bell!

A bell ringing.

A bell ringing from a tower.

Birds twittering amid the sound, golden sound, sunny sound, ringing in a rosy blue wash, sunny-golden, filling the front window, while a long beam of fluid gold sunlight slowly advanced through the kitchen door. He listened to its advance, egged on by the ringing bell. The bell
ringing from the tower of the Catholic church down from the spaghetti factory, down on Cherry.

“Cherries are ripe! Cherries are ripe!” twittered the sparrows, the robins sang, “Again, again!” while the Sunday-morning air rushed in and out of Viola’s and Rutherford’s lungs, Amerigo’s the fastest, then Rutherford’s and then —

Boom!
The Sunday
Star
landed on the porch with a gentle thud. A tingling coolness tickled his feet, as he ran down the corridor stair and onto the porch, just in time to catch the streetlights dozing faintly yellow in the face of the rising sun, just before they dropped off to sleep. Out!

By the time Rutherford got up to go to work he had read and neatly folded the funny paper and lay opossum-fashion, waiting for him to leave.

Now that he had gone, he waited for the sun to steal into the middle room and fire the hem of the sheet of Viola’s bed. He waited for her to feel the heat of the burning sheet, and stir, and stare, pink-eyed, into the mirror of the vanity dresser, and wonder, and then suddenly know, and look at the clock and yell:

“Boy? You awake? It’s time for you to git up an’ go to Sund’y school!”

Clean, dressed up in his Sunday suit, he stepped out into the redeeming light of Sunday morning. Head high, shoulders back, he walked under the burning wires and was not afraid. The Lord smiled down out of heaven: Surely goodness and mercy shall fa-ah-low me — ee all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord — for ever!

He sat attentively in his Sunday school class and listened while Sister Mayfield spoke of how angry it made Jesus when he found the money changers in the temple, and how He got mad for the first time in His precious life, and drove them out!

The bell rang. He handed the collection money to Sister Mayfield, collected the books, took his seat, and waited for Sunday school to close. Meanwhile the reverend eased in quietly and took a seat near Sister James. She rose to her feet with a tired grunt and asked for the secretary’s report and sat down again. The secretary made her report. Then Sister James rose again and smiled a greeting to the reverend, thanking him for his presence. “The members of Saint John’s are truly blessed —” she said, “in havin’ a faithful leader who never forgits to look after the tiniest members of his flock!”

“A-men!” said Aunt Nancy.

The reverend smiled upon his flock, and his flock beamed under his loving gaze.

“I’m — I’m especially glad that the reverend’s here this mornin’,” said Sister James, “ ’cause the Lord’s work has been called to my attention. An’-an’ I felt that it’s my duty to speak out, to root out the truth from its hidin’ place!”

“A-men!” said the reverend approvingly amid a chorus of a-mens resounding throughout the room.

“I believe that!” Sister James continued. “I believe that if your house ain’ in order, you oughtta clean it up! When you hear the Lord come knockin’ on your door it’s too late then!”

“Speak to ’er, Je-sus!” cried Brother Jones. Smiles animated the faces of the congregation.

“I — I was checkin’ the rolls down through the years,” said Sister James, “tryin’ to keep track a our young ’uns. I know most of ’um by heart. Know they mommas an’ poppas. But every now an’ agin a face drops out a sight, a name escapes your mind — an’ you wonder what happened!”

“A-men!”

“Now, we’re startin’ our membership drive pretty soon, an’ I kinda wanted to account for ever’body. Well sir! The Lord sure works in mysterious ways! I got to — got to lookin’, an’ a-lookin’, an’ not findin’, till I come to the conclusion that some a our most reg’ler members are still sinners!”

“AAAAAAW!”

The reverend scrutinized the children, as though he would ferret out the money changer.

“They names,” Sister James was saying, “don’ appear on the rolls —
nowhere!
One in partic’lar happens to be one a our most outstandin’ members! A-mer’go, honey, do you know you still walkin’ in sin?”

“NAAAAAW!”

“That you ain’ been baptized in the name of the Redeemer, Jesus Christ!”

Suddenly the room was full of huge accusing eyes looking at him.

“That you ain’ been
born
agin? Help me, Jesus! Help me touch this child’s heart!”

“AAAAAAA — MEN!”

“An’ there are others, too!” continued Sister James. “Reveren’, I think we oughtta just
be
late closin’ the Sunday school this mornin’ an’ extend the invitation to these children to join the Lord’s flock!”

“AAAAA-MEN!”

The reverend rose, a tall handsome shadow trimmed in gold.

“Yeah!” he sighed, “I think we a-l-l oughtta say, A-men!”

“AAAAA-MEN!”

“We oughtta utter — from the depths of our hearts — a word of thanks to this good sister, who is never — never! — too tired to work for Jesus. A-men!”

“A-MEN!”

“I don’ know — the Lord knows! — how it sometimes happens that our children just get pushed out into this sinful world like counterfeit money an’ we expect ’um to pay the price of salvation with it!”

“Yes, Lawd!”

“Tee! hee!”

“Talk to ’im!”

“An’ then,” said the reverend, “then one day there comes a vigilant, God-fearin’ soul who hears the word: Go separate the brass from the gold! An’-an’ declare what is false to be false! God bless Sister James! Now, Amer’go an’ the rest a you young folks, we gonna bow our heads in silent prayer for
you!
With all our love, with all our hope, with all our will, we gonna pray that the Vision of our Lord an’ Savior, Jesus Christ, fills your hearts an’ eyes, that you’ll be able to
see
God’s-only-begotten-Son —
alone!
— with the cross on his back.
Alone!
wearin’ a crown of thorns upon His precious head, climbin’ up Calv’ry Hill!”

“Oh Lawd! Lawd! Lawd! Lawd!” sang a mournful voice.

“
A-looooone!
Among the taunts! an’ the jeers of the Roman soldiers! Under a thunderin’ sky with stained bloody clouds! I-IIII-I want you to feeeeel! FEEEEEL! feel the nails tearin’ holes in the palms of His gentle hands an’ feet. Fee-eeee-eeel! Aaaaaaw-feel! Help me, Jesus! if You please!”

“Uhmmmmmmm!” moaned an anonymous voice.

“FEEEEL the sharp steel! piercin’ His side. Look! See the look in His eyes when He raises up His head toward heaven, an’ mumbles in His weakness: My God oh my God! why — oh why — hast Thou forsaken me?”

A low primeval moan rose from the back of the church, a black alluvial moan.

“See His head fal-fall-faaaal upon His chest! An’ now watch death steal into His immortal eyes. See how His lips tremble upon the words His bleedin’ heart
commands
them to say?
Forgive them, Lord, for they know not what they do!
”

“Yeah!”

“Forgive the sinners, the liars an’ the backbiters an’ the backsliders! Forgive the innocently born for they know not what they do!”

“A-MEN!”

“That was a day, children!” declared the reverend. “Children! Christians of tamarra, the hope of the God-fearin’ future! Are we gonna let Jesus die in
vain!
Are we gonna waste the precious blood of Christ upon the barren rocks of sin? Have pity! Have mercy upon Him, the only Son of our Great an’ Lovin’ God who first had pity on
you
. Who gave His-only-begotten-Son that
you
might live!”

The moan grew into a deep mysterious chant that had no words, and which only the old folks knew. It trembled upon the air like a living thing. It throbbed like a heartbeat. It swelled and broke upon the shores of the mind like waves of sea. It churned itself into a seething foam of passion that slowly receded into the secret depths of a primordal stillness: still …

“Rise! and prepare to face your God!” the reverend commanded.

Amerigo, paralyzed within his black foul flesh, watched the sinners rise from the midst of the throng of eyes.

“Don’ hesitate! Come
now!
Come down an’ accept the hand of fellowship in Christ. Tamorra may be too late! For if you deny Me here on earth, so will I deny you before My Father who is in heaven!”

“Praise Je-sus!” cried Brother Dixon.

Meanwhile the false coins moved tremulously down the aisle to the table where Sister James stood with her eyes closed and her lips bent upon a silent prayer, while the reverend greeted them with the welcome hand of forgiveness.

Amerigo felt the great man’s eyes upon him where he sat. He gazed into the Old Testament skies trimmed in bright halos of gold.

“Won’t you come?” whispered the reverend. “Come to Je-sus just now!”

He could not move.

“Now?” whispered the reverend. He began to sing tenderly: “Come to Jee-sus, come to Jee-sus, come to Jeee-sus just now! Just now. Come to Je-sus just now. He will help you, He will help you, He will help you, just now, just now, He will help you — just now.”

“Now?”

“A-He will
save
you, He will save you, He will save you, just now … just now, He will save you, just now!”

“Oh yes, He will!” cried Sister Mayfield, placing her warm velvet hand upon his trembling shoulder.

“He will saaaave you — just now.”

The congregation hummed the melody softly. He remained in his seat. Presently all the eyes turned toward the reverend. He said:

“We thank the Lord for all those who have come under His protection this mornin’!”

“A-MEN!”

He shook the hands of the downcomers and asked them if it was their wish to join St. John’s Baptist Church, to be accepted in Christian fellowship and abide by the rules of the church, according to the ordinances of the Holy Bible and the authority invested in him by God?

“Yes,” they all said: “Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

The congregation rose. The reverend raised his hands and bowed his head in an attitude of silent prayer. Then suddenly the heads raised and the eyes broke up into patterns of shuttering lashes. Sound issued from moving lips and shuffling feet. The congregation hastened to answer the call of the great organ that could now be heard from the main auditorium.

The choir was already marching to the choir stand, singing the opening hymn. Meanwhile Amerigo darted out the side entrance and followed the path to the street. He crossed over to the unaccustomed side, where white people lived, and walked in the shade of a strange tree, east for a while until he came to a broad boulevard running north and south and turned north until it turned west where it became the great Admiral Boulevard, running parallel to the avenue. Now he crossed the boulevard, north, and followed a pleasantly shaded street until he came to the crest of a hill from which he looked down toward the great river. He gazed at the broad vista for some minutes, and then wandered unconsciously down an alley, through a shoot, south, up an empty street, and then turned west, into the boulevard again.

The dull Sunday-morning traffic sped past him. Now and then he came to a fruit stand perched on the sidewalk. He passed the bakery. He came to the white church just in time to see the people streaming quietly onto the sidewalk.

Finally he stood on the corner of Admiral Boulevard and Troost. He looked down the hill toward the avenue and tried to discover the house behind the trees where Isaac used to live. Unable to find it, he gave up
the search, crossed Troost, and walked down the gentle slope past the candy factory, a few apartment houses where white people lived, and on to Campbell Street. As he turned down the hill he smelled Sunday dinners cooking, biscuits and fried chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, corn, stewed tomatoes, raisin and apple pie, mingling with the redeeming light of Sunday morning, but he did not hasten his step.

Nor was he excited, as he usually was, when he, Viola, and Rutherford sat down to Sunday dinner and Viola gave him the leg of the chicken.