The Waking (21 page)

I stop. We’ll be what?

Shut up! That’s enough.

Mary can’t get enough of those young bucks, but can you blame her? Bet the baby ain’t even yours. Your chromosomes gotta be all messed up. You’re a junkie, nothin’ but a mixed up junkie. Yeah, you’re gonna still be a junkie ten years from now, if you live that long. Tattoos are only skin deep, but you are a junkie to the bone.

I’m not.

Prove you’re not, then. Go out on the town. Quit being such a baby hiding on this boat. Go on, now. And take some of that money with you.

I take two of the three twenties from Rufus’s drawer and tear out of there, running west without looking back. I don’t know where I’m going. I just know that I’m going.

I pass some graffiti that asks, “
Got Heroes?” No, I don’t. I run on, following the shore mostly. Didn’t I hear something about Muhammad Ali or some other fighter who threw his Olympic gold medal into the Ohio? I wonder if anyone ever found it.

I turn away from the river and run further west, running so far that I hardly notice how dark it’s getting. Where am I? Is that a park? I’m on Twenty-Second Street and … is that Greenwood? There aren’t many streetlights here. Boarded up houses, businesses with metal bars, “No Trespassing” signs everywhere, alleys, and not a tree in sight.

And little red and green caps on the ground.

I stand on a broken sidewalk under a single streetlight that barely lights up anything. This feels right. I’m on someone’s set, and if I stand here long enough, I’ll get served.

A moment later, a dark black boy wearing a black hooded sweatshirt rolls out of an alley up to me on a thousand-dollar mountain bike. Yeah, I’m on the set, all right.

“
What you need?” he asks.

I finger Rufus’s money in my pocket. “What makes you think I need something?”

He smiles. “You got the look, man.”

This boy is your friend. He already knows you by sight. Let’s get this party started!

Shut up.

“
And you got on long sleeves on a hot night,” he adds.

“
And you’re wearing a sweatshirt,” I say.

“
So? You want something or not? I ain’t got all night, nigguh.”

I ain’t no
nigguh.
“I’m just lost is all.” And that is the truth. “Which direction is the river?”

He rolls his eyes and shows me a bundle of little bags. “Right
here,
nigguh. This is the river you want to find.”

See, I told you he was your friend. He knows what you really want. He—

“
I ain’t no nigguh,” I tell him. “I need directions to the river.”

He rolls away, muttering, “Crazy fool,” vanishing into the dark alley.

“
Yeah, maybe I am,” I whisper as I cross the street. “But sometimes crazy makes sense.”

Don’t leave, Manny.

“
Watch me,” I say out loud. I look up and see the glow of the city to the east. I just need to run to the light. That’ll get me to the river.

You’re going to regret this, Manny.

“
No.”

You can’t tell me you don’t miss it, Manny.

“
I don’t miss it.”

Liar.

I’m too tired to run anymore and break into a little jog toward the light. Sweat spills down my face and beads up on my back and I’m a little thirsty, but other than that, I feel pretty strong. When I break out of that dark neighborhood onto Broadway and into downtown, I feel a little lighter, like I’m not carrying as big of a weight on my back. I still don’t recognize any streets, but I’m starting to feel cooler.

It’s cool down by de river.

A new voice. A female voice, but it’s not Rose. It’s young and a little sad.

You know you gettin’ close cuz you feels de coolness on your skin. Even de sun don’t feel so hot. Breezes seem to blow better down by de river, too.

It’s soft, so soft, and peaceful, that voice. And as country as Rufus. I want her to keep talking.

I walk past some folks sitting outside at a little café, most of them drinking and carrying on, and past the next tall building, I see the water. Thank you, country girl, whoever you are.

I also see a payphone.

Mary. Call Mary.

Since I don’t have any change, I dial her number collect, say “Emmanuel” when I’m prompted to, and wait while it rings and rings and rings. Nobody’s home. Oh yeah. It’s Friday night. Mary always works late on Friday nights, and her mama does, too. I hang up and get my bearings.

Now you jes’ foller de river wit’ de sunset at your back till you gets to a place where de crossin’ is easy, chile.

Another female voice, this one older, wiser, and definitely more confident. Thank you, ladies. Since we landed before we hit the interstate bridge and the baseball stadium to my left, I know I have to go east. I get off the street and walk along the shore, hearing the moan of a bullfrog and seeing the reflections of lit buildings shining out on the water. Gnats and mosquitoes buzz me pretty good, but it’s a nice walk with no one to bother me. And when I see the
American Queen
all lit up like the Fourth of July, I break into a trot.

There’s always Memphis,
The Voice says as I stride toward the gangplank.

“
See you in Memphis then,” I say as I run up the gangplank and take the stairs two at a time to my room.

I throw open my door and see Rufus staring up at the TV. “Where you been?”

Is it that late? It has to be late. I’ve been gone for hours. “Out walking. Tried to call my girl, too.” I dig in my pocket for his money. “Borrowed this from you in case I got hungry. I didn’t need it though. I hope you don’t mind.”

He squints as he takes the two twenties. “What was you plannin’ to eat with forty dollars?”

“
I, uh, only meant to take twenty.” Which is a little lie. “I guess the other one stuck to it.”

He squints and hands them back. “Uh, put ‘em back where you found ‘em.”

I open the drawer and slip the twenties under the one still in the drawer.

“
You found ‘em in there?” he asks.

“
Yeah.” I close the drawer. “I, uh, I won’t do that again. I promise.”

He jumps out of bed and opens the drawer, smiling at the money. “Now who would have put all that there?”

Huh? “That wasn’t your money?”

“
Nah. All my money except for a little allowance I give myself gets deposited down at my bank back home.” He counts out the money. “Sixty dollars. Why would someone put sixty dollars in my drawer?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
This isn’t really your money and you just forgot about it, is it, Manny?”

“
No.”

He sits on his bed with the money, and I sit on mine. “So someone just came in here … and gave
you
sixty dollars. They must have thought that drawer was yours.”

“
Why?” Wait, I think I know. Mrs. Walker. She feels bad about what happened. But how would she have access to the room? Oh yeah. She’s rich. Rich people can do whatever they want.

“
For your new baby is why,” Rufus says.

“
What?”

“
Come on, now, Manny, you knew we was gonna talk about you when you didn’t come out with us. Congratulations, man.” He throws out his hand, and I shake it reluctantly. “Rose told us all about it.” He puts the money in my hand. “What you gonna name him?”

I stare at the money. “Luke.”

“
Ah, the physician.”

“
No, that’s the name of the guy who helped me out on the
Boonesboro
.”

He chuckles. “It’s also the name of one of Jesus’ disciples, you know, Matthew, Mark, Luke.”

“
Oh yeah.” Luke Slade
was
a man of healing. Auntie June will like that name.

“
Bet it was Rose.”

“
Huh?”

“
Rose could have put the money in there. She got the key, you know, so she can do inspections on you.”

I shake my head. “She wouldn’t have. I, uh, I shouldn’t have any ready cash, you know? It’s too much of a temptation.” And tonight I nearly blew it.

“
Well, who you think it was then? Penny?”

I get up and tuck the bills into the pocket of my vest. “I doubt it. She’s as hard up as the rest of us.”

“
Yeah. She barely had enough for her meal tonight.” He smiles. “I paid for her.”

“
Yeah?”

Rufus looks like he’s just won the lottery or something.

I smile. “Are you getting a little sweet on Jessica Anne?”

He shrugs, and I feel the breeze. “Maybe I am.”

But is little Penny sweet on Big Daddy Rufus? “Well, I’ll find out who gave me this money tomorrow.” I turn off the light.

“
It’s already tomorrow.” He turns off the TV. “Manny?”

“
Yeah?”

“
I didn’t know if I’d see you again, man. I’m glad you came back.”

So am I. “Good night, Rufus.”

“
So, uh, you think maybe Penny is a little sweet on me, too?”

I bite my tongue. “Good
night,
Rufus.”

“
All right, all right. I was just wonderin’ if maybe you noticed her lookin’ my way, you know, maybe cuttin’ her eyes at me—”

I snore as loudly as I can.

“
Okay, okay.”

Silence.

“
But she sure is cute, ain’t she?”

I put the pillow over my head, but it’s no use. I can still hear him singing Penny’s praises. “Look, Rufus, I’ve got to get some sleep.”

“
Oh. Sorry.”

Silence. I pull my head out from under the pillow and settle in.

“
It’s just that—”

I jump up and turn on the light. “What is it, Rufus? What do you want?”

He looks away. “It’s just that I’ve never, uh, I’ve never been sweet on any girl, you know?”

“
Never?”

He shakes his head. “I just don’t know what to do about it, you know?”

“
You’re asking the wrong man, Rufus.”

He sits up, putting his pillow behind his back. “Well, you’ve, uh, been with lots of girls, right?”

I sit on the bed. “Yes, but none of them were right for me. Just Mary.”

“
How’d you know she was right for you?” Rufus asks.

I shouldn’t have turned on the light. “I don’t know, Rufus, I just did, that’s all. And I’m really tired, so—”

“
Did she look at you a certain way?”

I nod. He’s not going to let me rest until he knows. “Yeah. She did.”

“
What way?”

“
Like … like she knew me. Like she had been waiting for me all her life.”

Rufus closes his eyes. “That’s deep, Manny.” He pops them open. “How soon did she look that way at you?”

“
Huh?”

“
I mean, you met her, right? And then you went out, right?”

I think back to the first time Mary spoke to me. She has
always
looked at me that way. “Rufus, there’s no formula for any of this, man. It just happens or it doesn’t. Have you let Penny know how you feel?”

“
Nah. I can’t do that.”

Big as a mountain with the confidence of a speck of sand. “Sure you can.”

“
Nah. Not me.”

I turn off the light. “You’ll never know until you try, right?”

Silence. Yes! I slide under the covers and close my eyes.

“
But what should I say, Manny?” Rufus asks.

Oh … no. “I know what you should say, Rufus.”

“
Yeah? What?”

“
Say ‘good night.’”

“
Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” I hear him turn over. “You’re tired. I’m sorry. We’ll, uh, we’ll talk about this some more tomorrow, okay?”

Silence.

“
Okay, Manny?”

“
Rufus, okay! Now leave me be.”

“
Oh. Sorry. Good night, Manny.”

I growl.

“
Sorry.”

Silence.