Daddy Blue sure liked to be the center of attention.

     Today was no different.  He was wearing his only Sunday suit.  It was a faded blue with skinny silver lines that started at his large shoulders and went all the way down to the bottom of his pants.  (I could not see his lower half, but I guess he had his pants on.)  The white shirt he had on was boiled clean and neatly pressed. Grand Em sure laid her good arm in that starch!  Daddy’s best tie was wrapped around his neck, making him look important.  I’m betting he had his fancy black shoes on his feet.  He wore them on his night out with the misters.  He would spread that shoe past real thick on the toes.  Then he would rub and buff them until he could see his face in each.  I knew that when he did that, I would not see him again until the next day.  Grand Em could not go with him, and my aunties could not go out with the misters. 

     “A good colored woman would not be up on Sin Street anyway” she would snap at his retreating back.

     Daddy laid there with a small green bible in his rigid hands.  I shivered.  God was sure going to be mad!  He knew Daddy did not read the good book.  What was He going to say when Daddy got to Glory?  Wasn’t that a lie, sending Daddy up there like that?  I was always told not to lie!  God might knock the church down.

      His bear-like paws was shiny with Vaseline.  It sure took the ash off of them, but it did not cover his bruised knuckles.  I wondered how he hurt himself, but I didn’t know who I would ask about it.   His hands would catch my legs when I talked back to him. 

      The cloying stench of gardenias made me sick to the stomach.  Spit pooled in the back of my throat, and it stuck there as I tried to swallow.  It tasted nasty.  The flowers were clustered around Daddy Blue like miniature angels, but those angels were up to no good.  Blackjacks were His face looked chalky and powdery.  It wasn’t him.  I couldn’t be.   I was frightened and I did not want to be there.

     We were in the Good News Baptist church.  Everyone from Julian Street and up the Hill was squeezed shoulder to shoulder on hard benches.  Rowan County family came, too, but I did not know them.  We were under and on top of each other, and everyone was wearing their Sunday best.  In a Saturday afternoon during the summer, it was hot as hell in there!   Ouch!  Grand Em (My grandma’s real name is Emily, but everyone called her Grand Em!) pinched me.   Did she hear my thoughts?

      “Sit still, gal!” she hissed.   I could not help squirming around.  It was so humid, the back of my legs stuck to the pew.    Damn!  Someone forgot to use Ivory Soap!  Grand’s doughy arm kept hitting my head as she furiously waved her Hargett Funeral Home fan.  She was delicately scented with bacon and collard greens.  In spite of her hard elbow, I snuggled closer to Grand Em.  Maybe I would catch a breeze.  Her face was impassive.  I could not tell if she was sad or not.  I wanted to ask her, but I didn’t.  Sweat ran down the side of her face.  I wanted to wipe it off her face, but I didn’t. 

      The congregation swayed to a mournful rendition of “Near the Cross”.  Sister Lewis, a floppy, blood red hat atop her head, hurt that organ so bad.  Uncle Claude stared woodenly at his only brother.  He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else in the world but here.  Aunt Minnie wailed in sorrow.  She never liked Daddy Blue, but she cried anyway.  It was the Baptist thing to do!  She must’ve lost her breath because she fainted on the floor!  Some ushers rushed forward to help poor Uncle Claude drag her outside.      Pastor Lewis delivered a fire and brimstone sermon at the pool pit above my granddaddy.  He sprayed spit from his mouth when he shouted.  Pastor mopped sweat off his bald head.  He sang and hummed and everyone tried to shout “amen” louder than anyone else.  Miss Lucille broke out in tongues, a strange, guttural chant only the most sanctified was privy to.  Grand Em glared at her, but cut her eyes back so fast so fast, I thought I just imagined it.  Chilly fingers caressed my spine.  Even though it was sweltering hot, I felt cold.  I just knew God was going to snatch me for being bad!

Revised © March 2008 by CC Gill.  All rights reserved.

N2MahC

When I was younger,

Intimacy was stolen moments in a car,

And running afar

Snubbing my roots that did not rhyme

With my frame of mind

At the time. 

I did not want to be old and cold!

I needed to be wild and bold,

And courageous!  I needed to unfold

All the things I wanted to be.

Rebellion was a jagged smear

Of all the things I didn’t want to hear.

According to Cosmo,

Sex was the treat,

Pure abandonment in the sheets,

That should make my dreams complete.

The physical refused to remain fun,

It I tried to outrun,

When all is said and done,

Being me truly has not begun.

In me,

For me.

N2MahC,

I am more than a sister with delicious curves,

Or a mama lioness,

I need no envy or rivalry,

I am a chant his lips,

And a whisper to his soul,

I am delicate word,

A loving chant to his ears,

I am hugs too many,

And desire aplenty

I am a Whisper

And a Silence,

And a passing Glance,

I have perfected loving me

So I can love unselfishly,

And openly,

And completely. 

My heart is what it has

Always was.

Is.

N2MahC.

                      Copyright © December, 2007 by CCGill