Percival Everett - Suder

“Mama, I will not wear that dress,” the girl says and the mother is silent. “You can buy all the dresses you want, but they won’t get wore. If they get wore, it’ll be because you put them on.” The child sniffs. “You always pick out my clothes. Why can’t I pick out my own damn clothes.”

Then there’s this loud pop, like flesh against flesh, and the little girl starts bawling something awful. So, her mother hits her again and the girl goes running out of the store. I don’t look back at the mother.

When I’m paying for my things the clerk chuckles and says, “What about a hat?” And he points to this enormous rack filled with cowboy hats and tractor caps. This clerk is very strange; he’s got food all in his mustache and beard and he’s smiling. “Why don’t you buy a hat?”

I’m about to say no when I see a beret. There’s one beret all by itself and I walk over and pick it up. I put it on and I check it out in the mirror and it looks real French. I buy it. I walk outside into the rain and trot to my truck. When I’m about two miles from Parkdale I hear this thumping noise. It’s a steady pounding coming from the back of the truck, so I pull over and stop the engine. After a second or so of quiet the noise starts up again. But the motor is off. I hop out of the truck and walk around back and pull the canvas away. It’s the little girl from the store.

We stare at each other for a few seconds. “What are you doing in here?” I ask and the rain is hitting me harder.

“Riding,” she says. Her eyes are wet.

I drop the canvas and walk back to the cab of the truck. The girl is out and behind me. “Get in the truck,” I says. “I’m taking you back.”

She sits on the ground. “No, you’re not.”

“Just get in the truck.”

She shakes her head and pushes rain off her face.

“Suit yourself.” I climb into the driver’s seat.

“You’re just going to leave me here?”

“Yep.”

“What kind of a monster are you? You’d leave a child sitting in the middle of a muddy road?” She looks up at the sky. “In the rain?”

I don’t say anything. I just start the engine.

She hops up on the running board and screams at me, “I’m pregnant!”

I stop the engine.

“I knew that would get your attention,” she says. “Take me home with you for right now. You can bring me back later. What do you say, sailor?”

I look at her standing there in the rain, her yellow hair starting to mat up. “Get in.” I lean over and open the passenger door and she gets in. I’m driving up the mountain and I look over at her. “How old are you? Seven? Eight?”

“I’m nine, almost nine and a quarter.”

“I see.”

“You been living here long?”

“No.”

“I never seen you is why I asked.” She looks out the window and sighs. “We moved here from John Day just last year.”

“I see.” I sigh.

“I hate it here. All my friends are in John Day.”

“You got a name?”

“Jincy Jessy Jackson.”

“What kind of name is that? Jincy? What’s that short for?”

She looks at me. “Just Jincy. It ain’t short for anything.”

“Jincy, huh?” I pause. “Jincy Jessy Jackson,” I says to myself. It sounds real musical.

“What’s your name?” Jincy asks.

“My name is Craig.” I’m looking straight ahead at the road and the rain is falling harder as we move along the dirt road to the cabin. “This is it.”

Jincy has her face pushed up against the windshield, looking through the rain at the cabin. I stop the truck and we’re out and walking to the door. Renoir is tied to a tree off to the side of the house and he steps forward when we’re close.

Jincy catches sight of Renoir and freezes and then she turns to me and just looks.

“That’s Renoir,” I says.

She looks back at the elephant. “That’s an elephant.”

“Yep.” I look up into the falling rain. “Let’s get inside.”

“You’ve got an elephant,” she says and she’s looking at me with wide eyes. “You got an elephant.”

I step forward and open the door. “Come on.”

She steps up and across the porch and past me into the cabin. She turns back to me. “You’ve got an elephant.”

“Yep.”

“What are you doing with an elephant?”

“Renoir is my pet.”

She’s looking around the cabin. “Not bad.” Jincy walks over and stands beneath a stuffed owl hanging from the ceiling in the corner. She points up. “Former pet?”

“Want something to eat?” I ask and I pull the bacon out of the ice chest. “After we eat, you go back. Okay?”

“No.” She shakes her head.

I stand up straight and look her in the eye and heave a sigh. She starts to pull off her tee-shirt. “What are you doing?” I ask. She pulls it off and turns around and puts her hands against the wall. There are red stripes across her back, welts from where she’s been beaten. I turn away and drop the skillet down on the woodstove. I’m frying bacon and Jincy is still leaning against the wall; she’s crying. She’s there against the wall for a long time and I pick up her shirt and drape it over her shoulder.

“You like eggs and bacon?” I ask.

“Yeah.” She wipes her eyes with her shirt and puts it back on. She’s staring at me. “Are you going to take me back?”

I look away from her for a second. “Eggs and bacon is all I’ve got.”

She sits and I finish cooking and we’re eating. The rain is letting up and the sun is trying to show through the windows. Jincy pushes her plate to the center of the table and gets up and walks to the window. She’s looking outside at Renoir.

“How come you got an elephant?” she asks.

“I won him.”

“How?” She looks back at me.

“It’s a long story.” I pick up the plates.

“You’re really going to let me stay?”

“We’ll see.” I pause. “Who beat you?”

“My mama. She’s crazy. She hits me all the time.” She walks back toward me and points at her mouth. “See that tooth?”

I nod.

“See that chipped place? My mama did that when she hit me with the Lava lamp.”

I push my tongue into my cheek and walk over to the sink and drop the dishes in.

“So, I can stay?” She’s right behind me.

I glance out the window and see that the sun is good and out. “Let’s go for a walk. Want to do that?” I turn and look at her.

She nods. “Can I ride the elephant?”

“I don’t know.” I walk out of the cabin and Jincy is right behind me. “I’m not sure if he’s a riding elephant.” I’m looking at Renoir. Jincy is standing close to me, slightly behind, and Renoir walks to me. I stroke his trunk. “Good boy.”

“Can I touch him?” asks Jincy.

“Go ahead.”

She reaches out and pets Renoir’s nose and she becomes bolder and steps out from behind me. “Oh, he’s so cute,” she says.

I untie Renoir and start off into the woods. Renoir is behind and Jincy trots out in front of me and turns around.

“What is it?” I ask.

“Will you help me get up there?” She’s pointing at Renoir’s back.

I don’t say anything. I just pick her up and place her on the animal’s back and she’s as thrilled as can be.

“What do I hold on to?” she wants to know.

I look at the elephant for a second. “Good question.” Then I push her forward toward Renoir’s head. “Now, lean forward and hold on to his ears.” She grabs the tops of his ears and I turn and walk on. Jincy is doing fine and Renoir doesn’t seem to mind. We walk on to the lake.

While we’re standing there I watch this osprey, a white-breasted fishing bird, pull his wings in and streak down into the water and come up with a fish. “Did you see that?” I ask Jincy.