Chapter 20F

In April I drove my car one Saturday afternoon to the Liberty Cash Grocery Number 23 to deliver some papers to my stepdad. I parked in front of the store, along the curb on Exchange Street. It was a mildly chilly, pleasant early April day.

1959 was underway. The 60's and graduation and college were ahead. I didn't know it then, but I was more ready for the 60's than the 60's were. I was making plans for my eighteenth birthday, not far ahead. I was talking to the Army and Air Force, and they were talking about civilian and military schools far beyond Memphis State. Perhaps there would be no Memphis State for me, no memories of it, no reminders. There might be the Signal Corps. San Francisco. Chicago. Colorado Springs. It was tempting. I no longer worked for Uncle Vic. I made a little money running errands at the Tremont and the grocery store. I was rehearsing a play at Christian Brothers, and another at Immaculate Conception School. Some kids I knew wanted to start a theater group. I was writing to colleges all over the country. There were so many possibilities out there.

Getting out of the car, I looked across the street at the building where I had grown up. Where Speedy and Martha Jane had grown up. The project was beginning to wear down. The lawns needed cutting. Much of the shrubbery had died or withered. The clump of thick shrubs and saplings that once stood beside the building was replaced by an extension of the parking area. I thought about the day I had tried, in a rage, to uproot a shrub with my bare hands. Some of the trees were gone. Martha had cradled my bleeding head against her breast. The memories were fewer now, gentler. I was staying away from them. They slowed me down, so I would stay away when I could.

I delivered my stepdad's papers and said hello to some of the guys I worked with in the past.

"Hey, Speedy!" one of the guys yelled. "You comin' back to work? We needja here!"

I grinned, "Nope. I'm working on a project. Big new project." I grinned at him. "Speedy don't work here any more."

On my way out of the store I saw a girl in her late teens pass in front of me on the sidewalk. I thought she might have eyed me, too, but I was moving too quickly to be certain. I pulled out my key ring and was standing at the driver's side of my car, fishing for the door key, when I saw that the girl had stopped on the corner and was looking at me.

She had long, dark, curly hair that looked a little dry but was neatly combed instead of sprayed down, and an unusual, small but pretty face, a long neck, and diminutive nipples pushing from small breasts under her pink blouse. Long-legged and a little wiry, she wore loose jeans and brown sandals and an open, waist-length boy's corduroy jacket. A second look at her face and her darkly lashed, brown eyes evoked a memory of someone I had met before.

"Hey," she said hesitantly, her voice soft, with a thick Southern accent, "ain't yer name Steven? Or do yew still go by Speedy?"

"It's Steven," I said. I walked onto the sidewalk toward her. I said, "Well, well. Hi, Karen."

Her eyes lit up. "Yew 'membered my name." she said. She walked toward me. "I knew I reco'nized yew, I just wasn't quite sher." She stopped a few yards from me, squinting in the sun. She tucked a large cardboard-cover tablet under her arm, and she put her hands in her jacket pockets.

I stood looking her over, fiddling with my car keys. "Yeah, I'm still me. Just haven't been around here very much."

"I been movin' 'round the neighborhood, myself, a few times. I don't know if yew recollect Chrissie. I don't hang around with her no more. That crowd got a little too rough. I had to get away from all them, 'n..." She glanced down, her voice dropping, and she said vaguely, "Had t' make some decisions, I guess." She looked up at me. She was still shy. But she had a certain steadiness. Shy, but not fearful. "I ain't seen yew around in a while. I don't 'member yew wearin' glasses."

I ignored her remark about the glasses. Had she changed? More grown-up. Tidy. Healthier. Her smiles were unforced, often broad enough to reveal that she'd had her teeth fixed since I saw her last. Still waif-like, yet there was something older, more worldly. Her smile drooped slightly at the corners, very slightly, like Martha's. And her eyes didn't hide; they watched, absorbed, and spoke, like Ronnie's.

I thought: What is this? She's the same and not the same.

I asked, "You still as shy as you used to be?"

"Maybe." She looked deeper into me. "Depends." She said, with a with a mild tease, "Yew still not talkin' much?"

I gave a little shrug of my head. "Depends." I looked at her, stepping closer. "You still live around here?"

"If yew wonna call it that, yeah." She saw me looking at her, and she paused but didn't shrink away as she had done before. She still had that heavy Mississippi accent. "So what yew been doin' with yerself? Anything constructive?"

I gestured with a raised hand. "Everything I can to get into trouble and make a mess. How about you?"

"Well, I started out a mess, didn't take me no big effort. Just ten miles o' bad road, like ever'thing else."

"Yeah? You don't look any the worse for it, though."

"Oh. Well... hope not." She glanced to her left to dodge two customers exiting the store, then had to step aside to make way for another couple on heir way inside.

I said, "Hey, we're too close to the front door, let's move over here by the car," and I stepped closer to the curb. She followed, glancing at the customers quickly and then looking down and away, and back at the people again. She seemed suddenly edgy.

I said, "I think we were standing on a bad corner over there."

"Yeah," she said absently. "that ain't nothin' new fer me."

I folded my arms, smiling, looking her over again. "Ten miles of bad road, huh? Sounds as if you have a harrowing, death-defying tale to tell."

"Well, I -- " Her easy smile had faded, and she turned away from me slightly, her eyes dropping. "Not really, no." She tucked her lower lip under her teeth, and she seemed perplexed. "Well..."

I squinted at her. "I, uh, did I say something wrong?"

"Oh, I -- Nuthin'. Yew know, long story. Same story as ever'body, I guess." She gave a small laugh. "I was just so surprised, seein' yew out here. I don't usu'lly hang 'round this part of the Courts no more. Didn't think it was yew, at first."

I glanced at the large drawing tablet under her arm. I pointed to it. "Is that an artist's pad there?"

She glanced at it and blushed. "Yeah, I'm at the Memphis Academy now." She gave a soft laugh and raised her face and brushed a dark wave of hair from her forehead. "I took a look at Shelby State Tech. I didn't fit in there. That's all numbers 'n gadgets out there, anyway, thought I'd smother me to death. So I got in this Federal program. Yew know, skills development." She chuckled, "Welfare's what it is. Like ever'body else in the Courts. But I just started at th' Academy a little while ago. Part time fer now. Crafts."

I said, "That's wonderful. Some very good teachers at the Art Academy. That's a charcoal pad, isn't it? You work with charcoals?"

Her eyes brightened. "Yeah, and pastels. Some watercolor. They fin'lly let me take a fine arts course. Yew know 'bout all this?"

"Yeah, a little." She looked me over again, and I looked at her. She'd changed. Still offbeat, but more womanly. Or was I reading that into her? She had dark jewels in her eyes, like Ronnie's but brown and smaller, and a soft puff to her lips. Martha. What else might lurk within her that was like them, that with a little patience might emerge, might flower? She no longer averted her glances skittishly as she used to. But, then, neither did I.

She said, "Somethin' diff'rent 'bout yew. Yew get taller er bigger er somethin'?"

"Yeah. Some. Not much."

Her eyes scanned my face. "Been more'n a year, right? Almost two."

"You look different, too."

She glanced down at herself. "Oh, well this... s'nothin'. I wear school clothes all day. I'm at school most o' the time. I don't never dress up."

"No, I mean *you're* different. Good different. You changed."

"Oh." She gave a flip of her hand. Her eyes had tiny lights in them. "Yeah, I did. Some." She shrugged. "'Nuther long story."

"Well, you'll have to show me your work sometime. I'd really like to see it."

"Guess I'm still a little shy -- with these, anyway. Beginner. Still learnin'."

I scratched the back of my neck. "Yeah, well, me too. We're all beginners at something." I leaned against the side of my car, my feet on the curb. I said, "Maybe we should do something sometime. You know, something or some place where you won't be so shy."

"Yeah? Well, uh..." She hesitated, but her gaze was steady. "Like what, fer instance?" I watched her eyes pondering, I saw her listening.

I took a pack of cigarettes out of my shirt pocket and shook one out. I glanced down Lauderdale Street. "My folks have a restaurant farther down on Lauderdale. I can rustle a dinner for us." I lit the cigarette and replaced the pack and blew smoke. "It'd be nice seeing you again." I shrugged. "We could talk."

Karen tilted her head. She casually stepped closer to me. Her eyes warmed, but seemed undecided. "Dinner, huh?" She stood in front of me. She gestured toward my shirt pocket. "Mind if I have one o' them?"

"Sure. Sorry." I took out the pack and shook out a butt and gave it to her. "Didn't know you smoked."

"Just sometime." She took it, and she held it, watching me. Thinking? Looking?

I struck a match and she lowered her face and pulled on the cigarette. She lifted her head, her eyes looking up, and she blew the smoke up. Almost straight up. She held the cigarette in the air and she looked into my eyes again, and there was that coy smile, her eyes skeptical. She was definitely different.

She said, "Well, yer right. I did change. I did change some things. 'Bout me."

I said, "Yeah, I saw that. Bet you thought I wasn't paying attention."

Her smile turned a little dry. Her eyes looked right into mine. "So. Dinner."

I folded my arms and said, "Yeah. Just a simple place. Nothing fancy. Quiet. You can wear what you have now. Good Italian food, though. Not crowded, usually. We can have a little ravioli. They make real Italian ravioli over there in their kitchen, hand made."

"Yeah? Ravioli, huh?"

I made a small square with my fingers. "Yeah, you know, little squares of pasta? Fill 'em with meat, or cheese, or other stuff." I took another drag. I wondered why she hesitated. "And we can talk. You know... Or you can just listen. Or whatever you want to do. Go to a movie later."

She blew out smoke. Her dry smile got a little dryer. "Well, I don't go out much, with school an' work an' whotnot." She said goodhumoredly, "I seem to recall yew sayin' once that yew didn't talk much. What yew plan on talkin' about fer a whole dinner?"

I looked around. "Oh... the mysteries of the universe."

Her smile curled up on one side. "Myst'ries of the universe?"

I said, raising my eyes skyward, "The ancient heavenly connection into the starry dynamo."

She grinned. "Yew sher like to take on a lot when yew talk, don't ya?"

I grinned back. "That ought to keep us busy, anyway."

"Well..." She took a drag, looking at me from the corners of her eyes and blowing smoke away from us. She tilted her head, and her eyes talked to mine. She said amiably, "Might be okay."

Ah, I thought, that good old, working-class, Deep South accent. Where "might" sounds like "matt", and "alright" sounds like "awlratt."

"Now, don't say okay," I said gently, "If you don't mean okay."

She gave me the dry version of her smile again. "I usually say what I mean." She looked down. "I do now, anyway. Not that I say it so well. Yew'd prob'ly get bored with me directly."

Smiling, I shook my head no.

She said, "Y'know, I'm still a little surprised, seein' you 'round here."

"Until a few months ago I was around a few hours on weekends. I worked inside, though, with my dad and my aunt at the cash register. But I won't be coming this way much. Won't be working here at all." I grinned at her. "I was a little surprised, too."

"Yeah?"

"So I thought I'd ask you to dinner before you got away again."

"I see..." She took a drag and blew away from us. She still smiled, still looked skeptical, "Yew think we could solve any of them myst'ries of the universe?"

"We could work on it."

"Awful lot of 'em out there."

"We'll just take one at a time."

She tapped her cigarette with her finger. She said wryly, "That's gonna take a whole lotta them ravioli's."

I laughed. She watched me laugh. Her smile narrowed. "Yer really serious about this, huh? Yer really gonna do this."

"Sure, why? Care to do something else?"

Her voice dropped, mildly scornful. "Well, then. I guess yew really ain't been 'round much fer a while. So yew don't know."

"Know what?" I peered at her. "You get married?"

She closed her eyes, shaking her head, "Lord, No." She took a puff and blew out quickly. She said frankly, "Then, I really oughtta tell ya somethin'. Serious."

"Oh. All right. Okay, go ahead."

"Y'know, uh..." She glanced back at the grocery store, and she folded one arm across her chest and propped the other on it, her cigarette in the air. She looked at me. "That's yer daddy in there, ain't it, that owns this store?"

"Mm-hm. My step-dad."

"Step-dad."

"Mm-hm."

"What happened t' yer real daddy?"

"He died. World War Two."

"Oh. Mm." She took a drag, looking at me. She flicked her cigarette again and looked around, slowly blowing smoke, thinking. "My daddy died in Korea. Then we moved around a couple times. I come to the Courts from Itta Bena, Mississippi when I was fourteen. We lived so far in the swamps, the education department didn't know we existed. I ain't never been to school down there. See, I didn't never learn to read er spell. Mama taught me out o' the Bible, 'n some old books. So, uh, I come to the Courts, 'n my mama she just didn't know what t' do t' get me through Humes High. An', uh, I didn't know what I was doin' there, either, and didn't get through. An' my mama just gives up, and' then I give up..." She took a drag. She said with a ho-hum sigh, "So... Juvenile Court takes over, 'n they gimme all these tests and whatnot at Shelby Tech, and they said my readin's so bad, I'd never get in. So they sent me to this program, this gov'ment money, 'cause my daddy was in Korea, and they fin'lly got me some kinda schoolin' certificate 'n whotnot." She took a drag and grumbled sarcastically, "I mean, they tested me like I's somethin' from outer space. Guess they figgered Itta Bena's another planet." She flicked her ashes and blew smoke. "So I'm takin' these special courses at the Art Academy, to --"

She stopped. She took another drag, and then looked at me again, her face set a little hard.

I leaned toward her. "Yeah?"

"Well..."

I said innocently, leaning back against the car, "Go ahead, I'm just listening."

"Well, I was just thinkin'."

I scratched my neck, frowning. "Care to let me in on it?"

She gave an ironic, crooked smile. "See, I was just thinkin' 'bout how yer gonna be so entertained, sittin' in a rest'rant, tryin' to listen to me talk. I didn't think yew was serious."

"You're talking now, aren't you? Sounds okay to me."

"Naw, I -- " She tugged on the cigarette, watching me from the corners of her eyes again. I waited, and she watched me wait. She said, "See, I can draw. But I cain't hardly read. It's gonna take years. Gonna take me two extra years to get through the Art Academy 'cause I got to take special tutorin' so's I can read the textbooks." She paused again, looking at me, her eyes brooding.

I tilted my head, questioning. "Okay..."

She pulled her lips inward a little, eyeing me nervously. She took another drag. "Well... yer folks own this grocery store, 'n a rest'rant, 'n -- So they got some smarts in 'em somewhere. An' yew can talk, y'know? I mean, yew sound educated, like yew got some sense. I'm way down here in the eighth grade. An' I'm --" She sighed and looked off, brushing away the long lock of soft hair that the wind blew across her face. Another wry smile. "Oh, it don't matter. Beside the point, anyway."

I said, joking, "You know, asking somebody out for a little dinner around here can get verrry complicated."

She shrugged. "I ain't complainin'."

Still leaning against my car, I shifted my weight on my feet. "How 'bout if we try something else? Want to just go to a movie?"

She frowned, pretending to be shocked. "Well, that's the quickest dinner *I* ever had!"

I shrugged. "Looked as if you were having a problem with that."

She grinned, looking away. "Naw, I'm goin', I'm goin'. I said I was goin'." She pulled on her cigarette. She lowered her voice. A middle-aged, lady customer exited the store. Karen glanced at her from the corner of her eye, then she narrowed her eyes at me. "But, see, guys 're always askin' me out. But it ain't fer dinner."

"Oh... I see." I took a drag and exhaled. I said, with a gently resolute smile, "Well, I'm asking you out for dinner."

She looked down uneasily. "See, yew ain't lived in the Courts for a while, so yew don't know, but... I built up quite a reputation 'round here. Before things changed. I mean, I give yew one-half guess what that reputation is. And, uh..." She swallowed, looking away.