Natalie Baszile - Queen Sugar

“Does Ralph Angel know what you did?”

“No.”

“Do Violet and Uncle Brother know?”

Miss Honey shook her head. “You’re the only person I’ve ever told. Back then, they were all too young to understand, and when they got older, well — I was too ashamed.” She paused for a long moment, struggling to fight off the tears. “Besides, after Ernest and Lorna sent Ralph Angel back from California he came to live with us. All the reasons why and how didn’t matter.” Miss Honey looked at Charley, almost pleadingly, then reached for her hand. “So, you see, Ralph Angel is my responsibility. Whatever happened to him all those years he was with Emily, happened because of me. Whatever troubles he has now, he comes by them honest.”

Charley looked at her grandmother, then she rose and stood by the window.

“I only wanted Ernest to have a chance,” Miss Honey said.

Charley nodded, because part of her understood exactly why Miss Honey did what she did. If Micah fell in love with someone too frail or weak to help her stand against the world, would she interfere? She probably would. And yet, and yet. How many lives had Miss Honey ruined, and if not ruined, altered in a way that couldn’t be fixed? Charley felt a small burst of fury, like a match being struck within her. Sometimes there was no fixing a life once it was broken; love, devotion, shortsightedness, ignorance —none of it mattered. Sometimes it was too late.

• • •

Charley woke early the next morning with a sick feeling. Her first instinct last night after hearing Miss Honey’s confession had been to call Violet, but Violet wasn’t home, and Charley had only said, in the message she left on Violet’s voice mail, that she needed to talk.

The sun had barely risen as Charley climbed behind the wheel. She’d just turned out of the Quarters when she spotted Hollywood ambling along the road’s shoulder, pushing his mower in her direction. The sight of him in his fatigues and baseball cap instantly lifted her spirits. She honked and pulled over.

“You think your regular customers would mind if I hired you for a couple hours?” Three days since the hurricane and Miss Honey’s yard was still a mess. The sunroom wasn’t flooded anymore — what water hadn’t evaporated, she’d mopped up or pushed out last night before she went to bed — but underneath the half inch of sludge, the floor had buckled. “I have to get to the farm, but I’ll drop you off so you can get started. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Before she could ask how much he’d charge, Hollywood had lifted the Volvo’s back hatch, tossed in his mower, and slid into the passenger seat.

• • •

Now it was later that evening and Charley, back home after a full day with Denton and Alison, leaned the push broom against the doorjamb, wiped her face on a strip of old bedsheet. Miss Honey’s sunroom opened onto the side yard where just weeks before all the family had gathered for the reunion. It felt like ages ago. Charley stepped out into the warm evening. “Maybe Walmart sells linoleum squares,” she called.

Hollywood had spent the entire day at Miss Honey’s and Charley couldn’t believe the progress he’d made. By the time she got home, he’d hauled all sunroom furniture into the yard so it could air out, pulled up all the waterlogged linoleum flooring — an enormous task — so the sunroom’s pine plank floors could dry. Now he tossed another tree limb on the burn pile — a smoldering heap of trash and leaves and splintered branches — he’d made in the yard’s far corner. “I reckon,” Hollywood said. “They sell everything else.”

Only now was Miss Honey’s yard beginning to look normal. Charley glanced at her watch. Almost seven o’clock.

“If you’re tired, I can finish up here,” Hollywood said, walking over. “Walmart’s open till midnight. I’ll go over there later to see what kind of flooring they got.”

Charley pictured Hollywood struggling to push a basket of linoleum squares all the way back to Miss Honey’s. “Tell you what,” she said. “We’ll drive together, then I’ll buy you dinner. It’s the least I can do after all you’ve done today.” She looked at Hollywood standing there in fatigues now stained with sludge and ash. “Where would you like to go?”

“We could go to Sonic?”

“I’d rather take you someplace you’ve never been. You’ve gone above and beyond.”

Hollywood looked at Charley then back at the burn pile. “Well,” he said after a moment, “I’ve always wanted to go to Shoney’s in Morgan City. I’ve heard folks talk about the all-you-can-eat buffet. They say it’s real nice. I’ve seen the commercials on TV.”

“You got it,” Charley said, and imagined the family restaurant just off the four-lane. There were at least three restaurants between here and there that served better food, but oh well. “We can take the highway or the back roads. You pick.”

“I don’t know.” Hollywood’s face darkened. “I’ve never been to Morgan City.”

“Never been to Morgan City?” Charley laughed. “But that’s just down the road; couldn’t be more than twenty miles.”

Hollywood slid his hands into his pockets and Charley knew he was reaching for the comfort of his movie magazine. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not making fun of you. I guess I’m just surprised.”

Her apology was enough to set Hollywood at ease again. His face blossomed. “That’s okay. I know you’d never do that.”

• • •

At Shoney’s, Hollywood spent fifteen minutes surveying the buffet choices, then joined Charley at the booth by the window. He tucked his napkin into his shirt collar and bowed his head to say grace. Charley put her fork down and bowed her head too, and when she opened her eyes, she watched with quiet amusement as Hollywood stared in wonder at the mashed potatoes, meat loaf, fried chicken, string beans, pasta salad, and fried catfish he’d piled on his plate.

“I think something’s wrong with Miss Honey,” Hollywood said, and took a sip of his Mello Yello. “She usually comes out to talk to me when I’m working. Today she hardly said a word.”

And because Hollywood sounded genuinely worried, and because Violet still hadn’t called her back, and she needed someone to talk to, Charley confided in Hollywood. She knew she was betraying Miss Honey’s confidence, but she repeated Miss Honey’s story anyway, including the part about paying Emily’s family. “I know she loved my dad, but I can’t believe what she did.”

“I remember Miss Emily,” Hollywood said. “She lived in a little house on Saint Bernard, right before you get to the boat ramp. Liked to sit on her front porch and smoke cigarettes.”

Charley sat forward. All these years and she’d never really thought about Ralph Angel’s mother. “Ralph Angel never talks about her. Maybe one day you could take me to meet her. Or if you don’t feel comfortable, just tell me where she lives and I’ll go. She’s part of the family. Miss Honey should have invited her to the reunion.”

Hollywood set his fork on the table. “Miss Emily’s dead.”

Charley gasped.

“She killed herself,” Hollywood said. “Jumped off the bridge. I remember ’cause she did it the same summer Ralph Angel went to live with his daddy in California. It was in the paper.”

• • •

Half a dozen small children, snaggle-toothed and barefoot, ran up to the gate and stared at Charley’s car as she pulled up to Hollywood’s family compound.

“I had a fine time,” Hollywood said. “Thank you. It’s gonna be a long time before I have that much fun again.”

“I’m glad we went,” Charley said.

“Shoney’s is even better than it looks on TV. Maman’s gonna be jealous.”