James Marlon - John Crow's Devil

“Stop the damn bawlin! Stop it, Lucinda!”

Lucinda was a woman accustomed to commands. She stopped.

“Alright, alright, you can come inside.”

“Lawd a massy! No! Me step pon fi your lawn, the grass goin kill me for sure!”

“Then what the bloodclaat you think me goin do, carry you?”

“No baba, me nah walk pon that. Look what it do to—”

“Is where him deh? Is where Brother Vix—” The Widow looked around, then glared at Lucinda.

“Don’t look pon me, is your house! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!”

“Shut you damn trap, Lucinda!”

“Them goin kill weeee! Them goin kill weeee!”

“I goin kill you if you don’t shut up! We better go inside, all sort of foolishness seem to happen pon this street.”

“No sah! Me step pon fi you grass, me dead!”

“Nothing goin happen to you.”

“No! Is kill you want to kill me! Just like how them want to kill me! Lord have mercy pon me! What me fi do? What me fi d—”

The Widow slapped the hysterics out of Lucinda’s mouth. “Grab me hand. Nothing goin happen to you,” she said. Lucinda grabbed without hesitation, squeezing tightly. The Widow dragged her onto the grass. As the blades cut through the spaces between her toes, Lucinda let loose a tiny shriek. They stepped over dead John Crows and spots of blood-darkened grass. The lawn seemed bigger, longer. Maybe it was the tension of Lucinda pulling her back. Lucinda wrung so hard that she pulled her hand loose. The Widow grabbed her quickly, but not before Lucinda screamed. Dew got into the Widow’s slippers and made her toes sticky. She blamed Lucinda and hissed. They stepped between a mess of John Crow parts and were finally at the bottom of the steps.

“Lawks! In here so dark!”

“Yes. Night and darkness. One can’t happen without the other, but don’t tell nobody say me tell you.”

“Lawd a massy, ease up pon me, no? You know what me mean. In here daaaaark, boy.”

“I don’t feel like lighting no candle.”

“You don’t have no light switch? Me did think this was one of them modern house.”

The Widow was glad for statements such as those; Lucinda was always careless with her tongue. Cross-eyed bitch, Mary thought, remembering how much she hated her.

“I don’t feel like lighting no candle.”

“Alright, alright. Is just that is not my house and me can’t see nothing and next thing I goin—”

“Anything in this house belong to you? What you want to see in here?”

“Is just—”

“Is just that you want to poke you head into what goin on in me house. See the door deh, take you backside out!”

“No, Mary! Mary, no! Me can’t go out deh so me one! The grass goin kill me!”

“Grass can’t kill nobody. Is must—”

“The Devil!”

His name stopped her just as it would anyone in Gibbeah. The Widow had gotten used to not being like everybody else, to not being afflicted with their petty fears. But her enemy’s fright infected her.

“You is one damn mad woman. You say the Devil round me house but still you come here. You plan to drive the Apostle out with a pitchfork?”

“I–I—I don’t … Cho! You confusing me! I … Him goin kill me! You no see how him deal with you Pastor? Hector Bligh is here?”

“None of your business.”

“Me was just asking. Me know you have to protect you man.”

“Him is not me man.”

“Him is a man in your house.”

“Whatever that mean to you, don’t mean so to me.”

“Anyway, God know best. Him beat me, you know, Mary. Him beat me. Clarence do it.” She pulled down her blouse and her two breasts tumbled out, flapping over the bandages that were wrapped tight around her ribs. The Widow was more disturbed by Lucinda’s lack of shame. Her intimacy. This Lucinda whom she did not know well, liked even less, but felt sorry for. The wall between them was eroding, no matter how hard she tried to keep it up. This was a line the Widow could never cross, not even with her husband. She remembered how easy it was, offering him her vagina while holding back herself. Lucinda was making herself open. And honest. That is what disturbed her most about nakedness: the honesty of it.

“Pull down you blouse, Lucinda. Me don’t want to see—”

It was too late. There were welts and bruises all over her chest and her neck. Then Lucinda turned her back to the Widow. Bandages hid her skin, but showing through the white were two long streaks of red on the left and right sides of her back. She looked like an angel whose wings had been ripped out. The Widow tasted bile in her mouth and gulped.

“Pull down your blouse, Lucinda.”

“Me was the first to want Pastor Bligh gone. Me know. Me sing Hallelujah when the Apostle kick him out. The Bible say forgive seven time upon seven. Me forgive him more than forty-nine time. Me nah lie, me did glad when him get kick out. But Lord, if me did know! Lord, if me did know! Me catch them, you know. That’s why Clarence beat me up and me kick him in him seed and run away. Me catch them.”

“Catch who?”

“Them. Apostle and Clarence. Me never see nothing lacka that in me life.”

“Something evil that you never see? Me did think say God show you everything, like how you and him tight.”

“God never show me no man behind man a ram him batty like is girl him a sex.”

“What? What you just say?”

“You hear what me say. Clarence and the Apostle naked and him behind the Apostle and him hold on to the Apostle hip, and Clarence ramming the Apostle like him is the husband and the Apostle is the wife.”

“You is a lying gal, you know. That is nastiness, even for you.”

“How me to lie bout that? No you just say that is me did want the Apostle here? Why me would make up something nasty bout him?”

“You up to something. Me know you.”

“Me no understand how you no believe me. Like you no see how the two of them tight. Where you think Clarence sleep now?”

“Is lie you a tell. Preacher could a never do them things.”

“Like him act like any preacher you know. Me would think that if anybody believe me, it would be you.”

“Yeah, and me would believe it if anybody did tell me but you.”

“Eh-eh, who you think you is, that me have to prove anything to you? The only reason me come to you is cause you is the only one who eye no blind, not because all of a sudden you so nice and me looking friend.”

Lucinda pulled out one of the chairs under the dining table and sat down. She sighed, fingering her mother’s ring. The Widow thought to tell her of Mr. Garvey.

“Me never like you, you know, Lucinda. Not even when we was little,” she said instead.

“Me know. Me know. Me no take to you neither. But him goin kill me cause me know. And then him goin kill you cause me tell you. And even Pastor Bligh. You no see how the Apostle own the village? Everybody under him control now. Anything him want them to do, them do. Lawd, me no know how things get to this. One day we singing Amazing Grace, next minute we killing old man cause him sexing up cow. Like that is nothing new in country life. Them nearly kill the man who drive the rock-stone truck last week!”

“What you saying to me?”

“You don’t know what time clock a strike. Him don’t want nobody leaving and nobody coming. Him say sin come in and comtam — constanti— contami — me no remember what him say, but evil might come in the village and we have to keep it out.”

“You sound like him still working you.”

“No! Him mad! Mad mad mad! And now all o Gibbeah mad too!”

“But people don’t just turn crazy so. Me no believe you.”

“Eehi, like you no see some of it yourself. You no know people, Mary. Maybe him just giving people what them did always want. That thing in you mind that tickle you, but you would never do.”