No, ma’am, Nelson said again. No thank you.
He’s taken to playing checkers on the back porch after supper, she explained to Hilda and Steven. Ronnie used to play with him, but he got tired of it I guess, so wouldn’t you know it, now poor Nelson just plays himself, just sits out there and plays checkers against himself, so I guess it’s good he has company today. I just really don’t know how he does it, with that heat, must be something about where he’s from, you know, must remind him of where he came from—and Nelson shut the back door to mute her.
At the far corner of the screened porch was a low table with a checkerboard on it. Beside it were a few cushions he’d taken from the chairs and we sat on them, on the floor. From under the table, Nelson pulled out a large plastic cup with a straw in it and took a long gulp, wincing, then passed it to me.
Whiskey, he said, and a little Coke.
I took a long sip, thought of the woman at the gas station from some time ago. Even the haziness was hazy. I took another sip and felt my shoulders fall, felt my body settle lower into the floor. I smiled at Nelson. He smiled back, took the cup, and drank from it again.
I don’t really play checkers, he said quietly, barely moving his mouth, glancing back toward the door. I have my cup back here. They leave me alone and I have my cup. Two more years, then I’m gone. I’ll go somewhere, and I’ll never come back. He took another sip, then spread the black and the red pieces around on the board, the numb action of something he’d done hundreds of times. Never, he said. He turned one of the black pieces on its side and pushed it forward and backward like a wheel that couldn’t go anywhere.
How old are you? He waited a long while for me to reply. I shook my head. I won’t tell them you said anything.
I looked out at the yard; brick pathways lit by tiny lamps wound between fountains and planes of grass and flower beds resting for the night. In the far corner of the yard a massive tree was spotlit from below, casting agonized shadows.
I don’t know.
He nodded. Where did you come from?
I shrugged.
They really found you in a church?
I was sleeping, I said.
Yeah, not much else you can do there but sleep. They take me every week. My whole family was killed in the name of God and now these people want me to sing a hymn like it was all some kind of misunderstanding. Must have been some other guy.
He used a red piece to jump diagonally over a black piece, then used that black piece to jump diagonally over the red, a game against himself.
I’m not as stupid as they think. I’ve read the history books, their Bible. It’s all in there. He stopped the game abruptly, leaned back, his head seeming loose on his neck. You’re right not to say anything. They hear what they want. The more you say, the more they’ll use it against you. Maybe they’d leave me alone more if they thought I was a mute.
He took another sip, offered me another, and I took it. He put the cup back beneath the table just as we heard the door open and Butch calling out at us.
How y’all doing out there? A cigar mumbled his voice.
Good, Nelson said.
Who’s winning?
Pew, Nelson said.
Very good. Butch shut the door.
Nelson leaned over his knees, an elbow on each, and looked at the floor awhile.
You’re all right—I haven’t met many people that were all right, not here, but … you’re OK.
He kept looking at the floor, and when he spoke again, his voice went lower and looser, as if it were falling apart in water.
I’m just sorry you came here or got left here or whatever. And maybe when I’m eighteen, I can help you leave, too, but right now I have to go. I have to go do something, all right? And you should just stay here. Butch probably won’t check on us for a least a few minutes. You don’t have to go back inside or anything, but I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes or something. OK?
I nodded.
You can have the rest of my cup, he said as he went out into the yard. I listened to his steps quicken through the garden until I couldn’t hear them at all. The spotlighted tree was still out there, and without making a choice I was already walking out toward it, pulled by its wooden ache. Why couldn’t they turn the lights out for him? Why couldn’t they let him sleep in the dark? I stood in front of one of the spotlights on the ground and tried to cover it with my hands, but it was no use.
Nelson, is that—
Kitty was there, a cigarette in her hand.
Oh, little Pew darlin’. I thought you were Nelson. He’s often running around out here at night. I usually don’t—you know this stuff will kill you, it will, but it—well, it has some good qualities … does some other things before it does you in.
She laughed a little, a lonely laugh that ended quickly.
This time of year—it just makes me nervous, so I let myself have one in the morning and one after dinner just for the week before the festival. She was looking past me, back toward the house where the windows glowed yellow. It’s a good time of year, a beautiful time of year, but I don’t know—it just makes me a little jittery. Her eyes looked different out here. It seemed she couldn’t bury herself in them quite as well.
She looked up at the tree and took a long drag. Doesn’t it look like it’s about to grab something? I just love these oaks, live oaks I believe is what they call it. I wish I knew all the plant names out here, and I’ve tried, but I forget them all the time … I do know that’s a dogwood over there. She pointed with her cigarette, then took a long drag. And that’s a magnolia, both of them over there, magnolias, smaller ones. The magnolia seemed somehow exhausted, weighted and weary under all those dark green leaves.
I do wish they bloomed this time of year. It would give me some relief. But you can tell a tree whatever you like—it won’t ever listen!
We stood there quietly for a while, listening to her smoky breath and the faint crickets all around us.
Strange you showed up this week of all the times you could have. Now, I don’t know what anyone has told you yet about this weekend, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’m sure Nelson would be happy to share with you what he’s learned about it—he really has come to enjoy the festival, I think, and things are much easier at school for him after it’s over. You’ll see. The time right after, everyone’s more peaceful. Of course right now it’s a little more dangerous for everyone … the week before especially. People get a little anxious I suppose. Start acting out. It’s just human nature.
But it really does wonders for the community. I remember when we first started the festival, some years ago, and all the reverends at all the churches had to convince us it was a good thing to do, then the day after it was over I turned to Butch and said—Butch, for as much as people like to talk around here, there sure are a lot of things they don’t say!
I watched the smoke fray in Kitty’s laughter.
Kitty put her cigarette out on the ground, then stored it in a tiny glass jar she pulled from her purse. She looked up at me as she screwed the jar lid on tight—You know I would just about die to have skin like yours—what is that, just genetics? Does it run in the family or something? Must be. It’s like baby skin, but you aren’t so young that you’d still have your baby skin. We began walking back toward the house.