Jeffery Allen - Rails Under My Back

Damn, where you get that bag? Abu’s yellow eyes looked with high interest at Mr. Pulliam’s green army bag.

From my grandmother’s house. Ain’t it the hype?

The bomb.

Hatch held the heavy green canvas bag to his chest and patted it like a burping baby. I brought some joints I want you to hear.

Cool …

They continued down the hall.

Your folks here?

No.

They at work?

No. Darnell here.

Darnell?

Abu nodded.

In all the years Hatch had known him, Abu hadn’t spoke more than ten words about his father. Darnell traveled the country selling sports gear from his car trunk at rock-bottom prices; he came to the city once every two years or so, bringing Abu a pile of jerseys, T-shirts, caps, warm-up suits, gym shoes, you name it, bringing the old, scarred broken words of his life.

The long hall opened into the living room, where Darnell lounged on the couch with his woman (a girl really, Hatch’s age or a little older), a baby snug in her lap. Darnell was just as Hatch remembered him. Youthful face. Thick arms and a tree-trunk neck protruding from a Cubs T-shirt. A tight Bulls baseball cap trying to contain his thickly wrinkled, near-bald head.

Hatch, what’s up? Darnell rose from the couch.

Hey, what’s up.

Don’t I get a hug?

Sure. Hatch leaned in for the hug. Darnell squeezed him powerful and tight.

Darnell pulled back and opened the circle of his arms. Son, how bout another hug?

Abu gave him one, like a sigh, no force behind it. Darnell slapped him heartily on the back with his big-ass hands.

Hatch, it’s so good to see you. You look good too.

Thanks.

Giving the women hell, I bet.

Hatch smiled. So when you make it in?

We arrived in town last night. Stayed at the Zanzibar.

Oh yeah? How you like it?

It did the trick, cause we went there for only one thang.

Darnell, stop, the woman said.

Damn. How was it?

Well, round one went quick. That first nut always quick. Niggas lyin talkin bout they went two hours. Yeah right, two minutes.

How many rounds yall go?

Well, round two, she had me on the ropes—

Darnell, you so nasty.

— but I came back, wit one of these and one of these. Motioning and twisting his hips. Now, round three—

The woman held up the baby to shield her embarrassed face.

— she got the better of me. I tried to run, but she wouldn’t let me out of bed. She said, Come back here.

You got any children? Hatch asked, changing the subject, immediately realizing that he’d asked a stupid question.

I got more than Moses.

Hatch forced a laugh.

Let’s see, I got six by my first wife, five by my second, three by my—

Damn, Hatch said. Darnell glowed like a mythical being in his eyes.

— third. And Junior. Darnell nodded at Abu.

Abu, Abu said with clear malice.

Abu there.

Thanks, Abu said, his fat lips forming a sarcastic pout.

Least those the ones I take care of. See, my first wife had two from another—

Okay.

Well, and this other one I don’t even count.

Why not?

Cause he got a stupid mother. I go over there to visit him and she talkin bout, I ain’t gon let you see him cause all you gon do is have him sittin up round yo other woman. I say, So goddamn what? Then she call me at work, Darnell, I jus got outa jail.

Jail?

Yeah, jail. Police arrest me cause Jim ain’t been in school. He didn’t have no shoes to wear to school. I tell her, What good that nigga you messin wit? She talkin bout, Bring me some money or you never see Jim. So I told her, Fuck you, fuck Jim, fuck yo mamma, fuck yo daddy and yo whole fucking family.

Hatch, Darnell, and the girl all started cracking up with laughter. Abu remained quiet.

Whose baby is that? Hatch said, settled now, directing the question to both Darnell and his woman.

The woman grinned.

His father dead, Darnell said. He’s a bastard.

The woman cocked her eyes. Don’t call my baby no bastard. You no good rotten—

Girl, keep yo panties on. Don’t you know the meaning of the word?

She sat there, eyes smoking.

See, I’m honest wit her. Darnell nodded at his woman. She know I ain’t gon leave my wife for her.

The woman smiled.

My oldest daughter called me the other day. Seventeen. She been going wit this boy for a while. So I tell her, You jus finished school. You doing well. I be glad to have him as a son-in-law. She say, Daddy, I don’t know about him.

Why not?

He ask me for some.

What?

He ask me for some.

So I say, Damn, baby. Give him some. Yall been going together now for—

She live here? Hatch said.

No. In Yazoo.

Yazoo, ‘Sippi?

Yeah.

My folks out of Houston.

I know where that is.

I jus came back from there.

Well, I hope you had a good time.

Microphone check one two

represent

Microphone check

represent represent

Microphone check one two

represent

Microphone check

represent represent

Three four

Open up the door

Kid Attack is back and black so open up for more

I say I’m all that

Smooth and phat,

Lyrically developed, I’m like John Henry droppin the funky tracks

You can’t sweat me

but you might catch me

See me perspirin

No I ain’t cryin

See me flyin high like my man Flight Lesson

Don’t mean to brag but you should see me confessin to all

these bytches I be stressin

Ah um

Listen to this lesson:

honeys be scheezin, honeys be weavin, honeys be schemin

The honeys who be abstract be givin up the ave

That’s pretty good, Abu said.

It’s a little something I been workin on.

What about your guitar? You got some new phat licks? I bet you ready to tear—

Not really. Man, I ain’t played in days. Hatch wiggled his mute fingers. Don’t feel like it either.

Abu thought about the words with a disbelieving look. You’ll be back. You’ll play again.

Hatch said nothing.

The whir of wing in sudden flight. Birds lifted to the sky to join an eternal black stain that circled the horizon.

I been thinking, Abu said. Thinking. We should change the name of the band.

Oh yeah?

Yeah. How bout—

That’s good.

The yellow day opened before them. They walked, their unlaced athletic shoes flapping about their ankles. Defeated, Abu took a while before speaking again. So what’s up with Elsa? You talked to her since you got back?

Here, Hatch said. He shoved Mr. Pulliam’s green army bag into Abu’s chest. Carry this for a while.

Damn!

Yeah, I know. It’s heavy.

They descended into the breathing subway. Enclosed behind a lengthy picture window, a subway map glowed like a great magical web. Steel rivers, red, yellow, blue, black, green. Sticky magnetism, spinning above, below, and through the city. Fast train wind blew loose flyers down the platform like racing horses.

DO YOU WANT TO DIE OVERSEAS?

GIVE PEACE A CHANCE

END U.S. IMPERIALISM!

HELL NO! LET YOUR MAMMA GO!

MOTHERFUCK THE WAR!

Hatch hummed a melody and swayed, fire-blue depths.

You’ll get it back, Abu said.

A mouse scuttled into a crack of the tiled wall.

Ever notice something? Hatch said.

What?

How a mouse look like a Tampax.

Nigga, sometimes you think of some weird shit.

Seriously, his tail look jus like the string. And his body—

Okay, I get the picture.