The Castle Cross the Magnet Carter (18 page)

 

DWIGHT

Carl gone off to camp three weeks which he says he does every July. Firs day he's gone I wanna go to Roof's but I feel funny cuz prolly been a week since I seen him. I had it in my mind to split my time even, Carl an Roof, but it seem more n more I jus started headin toward Carl's every day by habit. I figure if I set out my front porch on the slidin chair Roof come by eventually, either walk by ignorin me mad, or come up say hi, either way I'll know what's what. Nex door Eliot playin with Parker, Miss Onnie come to her door talkin to him, I sketch it. Wavy lines for Miss Onnie's gray hair, gettin loose from her bun an fallin like a white woman's.

Guess Carl ain't aroun for you to play with.

I look up.

He gone to camp.

We stare.

So I ain't good enough play with even when Carl ain't here?

I look down at my pad. I jus wanted to get some drawin in, I say. In the lower right I jot my name even though I ain't finished yet even though most an genrally I forget signin off anyways. It don't look so neat so I erase, write it over.
That
don't look so neat so I erase, write it over.

You don't play with me if Carl's here, you don't even come over say let's three play together.

You don't like him!

Roof look down at Carl's house without thinkin, scowl at Carl's house. What I don't say is also Carl don't like Roof, which is the real reason I don't suggest threesomes. An Carl all tricky, he jus might act all for it, then we three get together an don't know what happen. Thirdly, I got my Carl life, I got my Roof life, think they work better apart. I don't play badminton with Roof, but I ain't never taken Carl to Messengill's neither, which for truth me an Roof still ain't made it to this summer.

Messengill's?

Like Roof got so loss in how much he hate Carl, eyes glued in Carl's house's direction he forgot about me till I ask that question. His eyes snap back.

Now it
is
a treasure hunt to actually find anything, it all been pretty much cleared out. What's leff mostly is rubble filled with the remnants a some recent teenage rendezvous: beer bottles, cigarette packs. A box a matches with a few left inside. We go for the fireplace like Roof wanted, but the couple loose bricks don't lead to much. We separate, scurryin through the trash. I find some mug, look like it was stole from a bar. A little Cracker Jacks magnifiyin glass, that I definitely hold onto. Four pennies.

A crash an Roof screamin. I run to the nex room.

Hole in the rotten floor, he gone right through to the basement. I didn't know Messengill's had a basement.

Roof!

Nothin.

Roof!

Oh God. Oh God, Roof's dead. Or knocked out God. I gotta get somebody. I gotta run home get his mother, get my mother oh God.

Roof!
My tears.

Snickerin. I peer into the darkness.

Roof!
He laughin out loud. Idiot! I'm kickin crap into the hole, on his dumb head I hope.

Okay, stop! I see his han aroun the hole, then he pull hisself up, head an shoulders visible. I did fall through, but it ain't deep. Just a shallow drop, five feet. Tryin to lift his foot up. I think a offerin my assistance, then don't.

Then the rotten floor aroun the hole give way again an he fall back down. Now
I'm
laughin.

Dammit!

Here, gimme your han.

Wait. Wait a minute. Hey pass me down that matchbox.

How come?

Jus do it!

I hand it to him. I hear the snap, then: glow.

Holy smokes!

What!

Holy smokes!

I jump down through.

What Roof lit was a ole rusty lantern, still workable, thrillin enough. But what it lit up. Mural. Oil paintin completely coverin a wall.
The Vitruvian Man
nex to God reachin out to Adam from the Sisteen nex to
David
. Like exact replicas, though course
David
was sculpture. Replicas except these all dark-complected. Brown-skinned.

Geeminee, that's a lotta ding-dongs! Roof crackin up.

How'd he get down here? I ask.

Who?

Who ya think. Painter. Then we fine the real entrance, little square door lead up to the ole kitchen. Take some effort to push it open but we manage, all our strength together. Now see the problem: the artist done hid the doorway, covered with bricks, moss. We climb out.

Wait, says Roof.

What?

Gettin that lantern.

Leave it.

You lost it? That's the best treasure this place ever coughed up!

And what about when he comes back?

Who?

I give him a look.

Dang,
al
right!

An don't come back later by yourself to get it.

You're not my boss.

Don't.

You're not my boss.

Midday so me an Roof go home to eat. Mama left out boiled egg slices for a sanwich. I remember when I was little we never had nothin called lunch, if I happen to say I'm hungry between breakfass an supper Mama try to fine me somethin, nothin formal. Then school lunch start the habit, she try. Roof I know for sure jus goin home to scavenge, an he might or might not come up with somethin. All them Bartons is beanpole skinny.

You're puttin your filthy hands on that bread? Go worsh yourself, boy!

I worsh up in the bathroom, lookin out at the high summer sun. After dinner be hours fore I got to be back, supper.

Over the crick bridge, through downtown, along the railroad tracks, up the hill. Hour hike to the outskirts. I thinka when Richard miss the school bus, havin to walk them four miles.

By the time I get there the clouds rollin in, wind pickin up. I ain't never been to Richard's place before but I know the way—Follow Ole Mill Road till it stops: woods.

There's a wood house and there's a little wood house. Couple little girls jumpin rope in the dirt, no grass. They stop, look at me. Richard was first, then five sisters after.

Richard aroun?

One of em speak, look about eight. Think that one's Jojo, Josephine. He in his studio.

Studio?

She point to the little house. I walk over. Tap tap.

Richard swing it open, mad face. I guess that was for his little sisters disturbin him cuz when he sees it's me he break a smile. Hey Dwight.

Hey Richard.

Whatchu doin over here?

Jus walkin.

Oh.

His little sisters starin.

You wanna throw a baseball?

Your sister said you got a studio?

Oh yeah. Come on in.

It ain't huge but bigger n it appear from outside. Pictures everywhere. I start takin it all in, slow, an Richard go back to paintin, let me experience his gallery. A few pencils but mostly oils, still lifes an landscapes an people, his sisters, that must be his mama, his daddy. Apple on a table, a boy's big left han foreground clutchin the apple, the boy's face peekin over the table but mostly hid behind the apple so all we see's right eye, right ear, temple, hair.

Self-portrait?

Uh-huh. Little smile on Richard, seemin to enjoy my tour. From his easel he can see out the winda at his sisters. What he's workin on's two girls skippin rope.

Where you get oils?

We got relatives in Pittsburgh. Near em this ole lady, live by herself. Miss Tootie. She own a general store for years, save up all her life, now all she do is paint. Her mother was a little girl slave, her granmother remember slavery well. Miss Tootie got flowers in her paintins, slaves in her paintins, she see I got the knack, whenever we visit, she gimme the oil paint, brushes.

How you rate a studio?

This my granmother's house, she use to keep chickens. The Depression come an she didn't no more, then she died. Nothin in the coop but cobwebs for years, I asked my mama could I. She said long as my chores done first.

I look at his sisters outside. I look at the easel. Not at all naturalistic, but better. Still early on but already I see he captured their essence: joy.

You like it?

I ain't one to oblige anybody fishin for a compliment. These paintins is
good,
he
got
ta know it. So I'm all set to shrug, They okay, but when I turn see his face I catch the tension, like my opinion mean a lot an he ain't exactly sure what it be.

Yeah, I say. I like em.

I see the relief.

None of em look like what I seen at Messengill's.

His mouth pop open a minute. Then he close it, smile. How you know?

Who else aroun here good at art? Who else gonna make David colored?

He crack up.

How come?

He shrug. Good to copy ole masters, ya learn somethin. They'll tell ya that in seventh grade art.

I mean, how come you paint it there when you got yourself a whole studio here?

He stop smilin. Some things I don't think my mama want me to paint.

Oh. His sisters outside: Miss Mary Mack Mack Mack. The wind whippin.

I seen these, art book in school. How you remember the details?

He look at me. Then he loosen a couple floorboards, pull out a big ole art book.

Stole it?

No!

Why you hidin it?

Miss Tootie give it to me. He shrugs. Didn't know if my mama'd understand it all. Hans it to me. It's heavy, so I set on the floor with it on my cross legs, lookin at every page.

I stop at a bunch a people dressed like Shakespeare times. Action: talkin, plannin. There's darkness at the ceilin, an a lotta dark on the people, though a little light captures their faces. Only woman in the paintin is lit ridiculous bright, gazin at a man dressed in gold.

Rembrandt, says Richard.
The Night Watch
.

I turn.
Mona Lisa
an
Starry Night
an Degas' an Matisse's dancers. Nex chapter I stop in my tracks. All them people! An rifles, an determination. In the middle a lady stands strong, her own rifle, serious face, her two black eyebrows seem like one long one.
Ballad of the Revolution
by Diego Rivera. Take me a while fore I can pull my eyes away for nex section: sculpture.
Venus de Milo
.
The Thinker
.

David
.

Details: curl a his hair, curve a his brow, sharpness a the nose. Smooth chin, an the right hand at firs seemin graceful an lazy but no. Somethin deliberate. The right fingers gentle indent the thigh. The lines a the torso. An somethin. Somethin below the torso.

You sure been lookin at
David
long, says Richard. I jump, didn't know he come right nex to me. Little smile his face. You know David had a friend? Jonathan? From under his bed, Richard pull out another of his own paintins. Two brown men in loincloths lookin at each other, somethin sly, somethin tender. On the top's one caption: 2 Samuel 1:26, on the bottom's another: 1 Samuel 20:30.

Now Richard back to David, Richard's fingers delicate grazin David's private parts. How Michelangelo make us see how beautiful it all is unrobed? I can't take my eyes off Richard's fingers caressin the page an I think I oughta move my leff knee away from Richard but it don't move, my knee stay right there warm against his knee his face so close I feel his breath also warm
very warm

Richard, I needja ta—

His mother at the door! Richard's face snap up mouth pop wide, eyes wide, stare at her. And then her eyes lower: the book. Richard slam it shut.

What's that?

Art.

Open it.

Art book, Mama—

Open it.

He open it to Gauguin,
Still Life with Apples, a Pear, and a Ceramic Portrait Jug
.

That ain't whatchu had before.

Mama—

Show me whatchu had before.

Richard slow open it to
David
. She look at it, her eyes twitchin. Then she turn pages. As it happens, pretty much every entry in the vicinity a
David
be a nude. The little girls musta gone in the house, wind harsh, day sky turn dark.

Her face whip up lookin at me, like finally noticin I'm here.

Who
you
?

Dwight. I live—

You give this to him?

No! I look at Richard, Richard look at the floor. No!

You a Campbell?

I nod.

Yeah, I see your daddy's eyes. Maybe I oughta tell your mama. Up here with my son lookin at this nasty book. An she take a swing with that heavy book, whack Richard's shoulder. Nasty! Why you wanna look at this? Smack him upside his head,
Boy!
She tear out a page. Nasty! Throw open the winda, hurl out the page into the wind. Nasty! Tear out another, let it soar. Nasty! Nasty boy! Then she notice Richard's paintin with the loincloth men.

I fly outa there, the trees all a blur. Look back only wunst, I see crumbled pages a art flyin through the air, then half a Richard's paintin, Jonathan torn away from David.

The rain start hard, soaked long before I get home. Set on my porch a minute, catchin my breath. I ain't ready yet to go inside. Then I am, up to the bathroom, dry my hands, my hair. I bring the Bible out to the porch. David son a Jesse speakin to Jonathan son a Saul.

I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan: very pleasant hast thou been unto me: thy love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women. (2 Samuel 1:26)

Then Saul's anger was kindled against Jonathan, and he said unto him, Thou son of the perverse rebellious woman, do not I know that thou hast chosen the son of Jesse to thine own confusion, and unto the confusion of thy mother's nakedness? (1 Samuel 20:30)

Along come Roof.

I got a idea. That was
you.
Painted that wall. Messengill's. An actin like you ain't never seen it before.

I stare at him.

Them paintins was colored people! Who else colored can draw that good?

Roof stand starin at me in the downpourin sheets like he don't even notice the wet.