Freddie Owens - Then Like the Blind Man - Orbie's Story

“Go away!” I shouted.

He didn’t move or anything, just sat up there on that mule, smiling.

“I don’t have to play with you!” I said.

He watched me a minute more, then turned the mule around and rode off.

The next day it happened again. I was out there drawing, and there he was by the well again, sitting on Chester. I hadn’t heard him come up or anything. It kind of spooked me, but then I remembered myself and pretended he wasn’t there. Without looking at him, I got up and went in the house. I sat in there in the front room on Granny’s couch, pretending to be busy with my drawing. When I went back outside, he was gone.

“You ain’t young no more,” Granny said.

“That’s a fine thing to say and us with Nealy to pay.” Granpaw sat in one of the cane chairs on the front porch, his forearms resting on his thighs.

I was looking at a Superman comic book, at a picture of Superman who was lying down, dying from being next to Kryptonite. Kryptonite was green rocks from the planet Krypton — the only thing that could kill Superman.

“If you was to drop dead he sure wouldn’t get paid,” Granny said. “Then where would I be?”

“Ain’t nobody dropped dead yet,” Granpaw said.

“You already had one stroke,” Granny said. “You was to ask me, you about to have another.”

Granpaw spat. “See now, that there’s the thing of it Mattie. Nobody asked you.”

Granny sat on the other side of the door away from Granpaw. She’d stretched a pillowcase over a silver hoop and was pushing a needle trailing pink thread up from the bottom. “It would be good if you was to rest a little.”

Right then a man with stick legs rode up in the yard on a skinny black bicycle. The front wheel bumped over a rock. The man had to jerk the handlebars this way and that to keep from falling.

“Morning Cecil!” Granny said.

“Mrs. Wood.” Cecil got off the bicycle, put down the kickstand and went around the front to a scuffed leather bag that made a belly over the handlebars. He wore a black ball cap, the bill turned backward so that the back of his neck was under shade. He fished around inside the leather bag and brought out a handful of letters.

“I plumb forgot you was coming,” Granny said.

Cecil made a face and walked over to the porch, nodded to Granpaw. His voice came out deep as a bullfrog’s. “Mr. Wood.”

“Cecil,” Granpaw said.

“It’s Friday Mrs. Wood. I always come on Friday.” Cecil handed the letters to Granny.

“You skinny as a rail Cecil,” Granny said. “Stay to lunch, and I’ll fatten you up.”

Cecil grinned a mouthful of crooked teeth. One had broken off slantwise. “I best be getting on. Thank you.” He stepped back away from the porch and looked up at the sky. His bullfrog voice could well have belonged to a man twice his size.

“You reckon there’s rain in them clouds Mr. Wood?”

“No. I don’t reckon there is,” Granpaw said.

Cecil took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. His adam’s apple had a way of going up the length of his throat, making a u-turn up there and dropping back down. “Shore is hot.”

“Shore is,” Granpaw said.

Granny looked up from the letters. “Orbie, go get Cecil a cold drink of water.”

“No, now Mrs. Wood,” Cecil said, “I got to get on with the mail. Much obliged though.”

“Well,” Granny said. “You welcome.”

Cecil wiped his face. He kicked the kickstand away and pushed off. “Ya’ll take care now.” The front wheel jerked side to side till he got it straight. Then he rode off.

Granpaw looked in the sky at the clouds; heaps of them piled everywhere. “No. I don’t reckon there’s any rain in them clouds.” He stood, took off his hat and slapped the brim against his pant leg. “Reckon I will lay down a spell, Mattie.”

Granny was looking through her letters. “Go on then. Rest.”

“What ya’ll reading there son?” Granpaw asked me.

“Superman,” I said.

“Superman? What’s that?”

“A man, Granpaw. He’s made out of steel. Nothing can kill him except Kryptonite.”

“Crib Night?”

“Kryptonite Granpaw. It makes Superman weak.”

“I never heard of such a thing.” Granpaw’s face looked tired. “Must be some of that Crib Night around here the way I feel. You reckon there is?”

“I don’t know Granpaw.”

Granpaw laughed. The laugh turned into a cough. Granpaw pulled the screen door open and went inside. I went back reading my comic book. Superman was almost dead. Big drops of sweat were popping out all over his forehead.

Granny knocked the letters and all her sewing off on the floor. “Looky here, Orbie! It’s a postcard from Ruby!”

I beat the rain barrel with a stick. Then I beat a place under the window. Pieces of paint flew off. I was mad. Mad at Momma. Mad at the postcard she sent. I went around the back of the house. Moses had scraped most of the old paint off there. I sat down on a rock and poked the ground with the pointy end of the stick. On the front of Momma’s card had been a picture of a pink flamingo-bird. It was dated June 18 th. That was Tuesday, almost a week ago. Now it was Monday.

The flamingo-bird stood single-legged on a long white beach. In back was the ocean. You could see people swimming in the ocean and boats. Granny said it was pretty. She thought Momma’s handwriting was pretty. They were all doing just fine in Florida, the card said. Momma and Missy and Victor all had gone on a speedboat ride. Missy got sunburned. Momma did too. They still had a lot to take care of down there. Victor did. It might take another week. Maybe two. They would be back though. Maybe not as soon as I’d like, but soon. They all loved me and wished I was there. I should give their love to Granny and Granpaw, the card said. I should mind Granny and Granpaw and go to bed when they told me to.

A hand suddenly lay heavy on my shoulder. I jumped away from the weight of it, dropping my stick. Moses stood across from me, his long blue-black hair coming down out of his cowboy hat. Willis stood next to him.

“Thing seem bad. Den GOOD COME!” Moses said, his voice going up from down like a seesaw.

Willis picked up my stick and handed it back to me, smiling his mouth full of teeth.

“Tree mash my roof,” Moses said. “Dat bad thing. Uh huh. BAD THING, sho ‘nuff. but you know WHAT?”

I remembered the tree. The roof. The chimney that’d been knocked sideways.

“Wouldn’t have learned ‘bout no trees and rooftops hadn’t it been to happen is WHAT!” Moses hooked his thumbs over his belt and frowned. “I about to learn to set a roof right too! Soon as old Foley finish Grinestaff’s.” Foley was a carpenterman that lived in Circle Stump. “You knows what to look for, you ALWAYS find da good.” He winked at Willis. “Ain’t dat right boy?”

Willis smiled at Moses but shook his head ‘no’.

“WHAT? You supposed to back me up on dat, RASCAL!” Moses quick reached down, grabbed Willis up in his arms and twirled him over his head. I was surprised at how fast he moved. Willis kicked out his potato foot and laughed. Moses laughed too — a big friendly laugh — his black face shining. I thought of Daddy, when he used to play like that with me.

Moses set Willis down and looked at me, egg white eyes, black diamonds in the middle. “I know ‘bout yo Daddy, don’t think I don’t. I know he DEAD. Dat a bad thing too, SHO is, but jus you WAIT. Dey be somepin good come bye and bye!” He put his hand on Willis’s head. “Dis boy mammy die. He got dat bad foot too. Dat sad, SHO ‘nuff. But LOOK HERE now! Dis boy. He sang like da angels. Uh huh. Nobody sang like he DO, not even up Kingdom way. Dey plenty folk SANG good up Kingdom way too!” Moses patted Willis on the head. “Nobody DRAW like he do NEITHER. Gone send DIS boy Louisville. Gone be a AH-tist! Gone BE! somebody.”