something was happening. “What’s going on?” I asked.
Aunt Greer didn’t answer. One thing about her is that she doesn’t like to be surprised or frightened. She gets tearful from it. That’s the reason she sleeps in my room. She says that she has to be close by a person or her heart feels like it’s about to burst.
Outside, King was barking and I heard faint voices. Curious, I got up from my bed and was about to head out the door when Aunt Greer hissed at me. “Darby! You can’t leave.”
I hung on my toes. “Come on with me, Aunt Greer,” I whispered.
“I can’t,” she said worriedly. “You gotta stay.”
On account of her, I was stuck, so I rushed into the bathroom, where I stood on the water closet’s seat and cracked the window.
Right away, I heard my daddy talking. He said, “. . . and some aspirin, some compresses, and a disinfectant of some sort.”
“What kind of disinfectant?” Mama asked.
“Rubbing alcohol or moonshine. Just something!”
Mama answered, “Okay,” and I could hear her race through the downstairs.
My daddy asked someone, “Where’s the boy?”
A black man answered, “He at my house, sir.”
“Which is where?”
Another black man said, “Mr. Carmichael, it’s up the roads a short ways.”
“We’re gonna take my car over,” Daddy said.
“But . . . but, sir, oh, Lawd, that boy, he needs hisself a doctor bad.”
“Then we’ll take him to Bennettsville.”
The black man sounded worried. “Who gonna see a black boy at this time a night? Who gonna?”
“Dr. McNeil,” my daddy answered.
When Mama came back, Daddy and the two black men raced through the darkness for the car barn. A moment later, the Buick was cranked and clacking wildly from the coldness. Its bright lights flicked on and it banged out from the barn and down our driveway toward the big road. Then, except for Aunt Greer’s crying, the house and yard went quiet.
It took a while for Mama to soothe Aunt Greer, who cried an awful lot. As upset as she was, though, she didn’t squeal on me for going into the bathroom, and I was glad for that. Even though it was only a few feet away, I would’ve gotten in trouble for leaving her alone.
McCall came in and sat himself at the end of my bed, and with all of us gathered that way, Mama told what happened. She said that there was a sick and infected black boy on Mr. Turpin Dunn’s farm, and that the sick boy’s daddy had come for Evette’s daddy, and Evette’s daddy had come for our daddy. It was real confusing.
“Why didn’t the sick boy’s daddy go fetch Mr. Dunn?” McCall asked.
Mama said, “He told us he was afraid to because of Mr. Dunn’s bad temper.”
McCall bounced on the bed. “I think it’s on account of Mr. Dunn being in the Ku Klux Klan. Everyone knows he’s —”
“McCall!” Mama scolded him.
I said, “Is he really?”
Mama shook her head. “You children mind your manners. How Mr. Dunn spends his time is his own private business.”
I asked, “You think the boy’s got the measles?” It was the only big disease I knew anything about.
“I don’t think,” Mama answered, swaying Aunt Greer back and forth like a little girl. “There’re a million diseases out there.”
McCall said, “He probably stepped on a nail. That’ll get a person real sick.”
“That’s more than likely,” Mama agreed.
Aunt Greer finally sat up. Sniffling and breathing so that her chest banged up and down, she whispered, “Those men gave me such a start.”
“They gave us all a fright,” Mama told her, patting at Aunt Greer’s hair.
“Didn’t scare me,” McCall declared. “I was just curious.”
Mama gave him her schoolteacher look. “I’ve had enough from you, McCall.”
“Sorry,” he said like he was innocent, then, secretly, he pushed his toes up under my covers and pinched my feet with them.
“McCall!” I yelped, and Mama grounded him for two days.
My daddy didn’t get back till breakfast time.
Aunt Greer didn’t answer. One thing about her is that she doesn’t like to be surprised or frightened. She gets tearful from it. That’s the reason she sleeps in my room. She says that she has to be close by a person or her heart feels like it’s about to burst.
Outside, King was barking and I heard faint voices. Curious, I got up from my bed and was about to head out the door when Aunt Greer hissed at me. “Darby! You can’t leave.”
I hung on my toes. “Come on with me, Aunt Greer,” I whispered.
“I can’t,” she said worriedly. “You gotta stay.”
On account of her, I was stuck, so I rushed into the bathroom, where I stood on the water closet’s seat and cracked the window.
Right away, I heard my daddy talking. He said, “. . . and some aspirin, some compresses, and a disinfectant of some sort.”
“What kind of disinfectant?” Mama asked.
“Rubbing alcohol or moonshine. Just something!”
Mama answered, “Okay,” and I could hear her race through the downstairs.
My daddy asked someone, “Where’s the boy?”
A black man answered, “He at my house, sir.”
“Which is where?”
Another black man said, “Mr. Carmichael, it’s up the roads a short ways.”
“We’re gonna take my car over,” Daddy said.
“But . . . but, sir, oh, Lawd, that boy, he needs hisself a doctor bad.”
“Then we’ll take him to Bennettsville.”
The black man sounded worried. “Who gonna see a black boy at this time a night? Who gonna?”
“Dr. McNeil,” my daddy answered.
When Mama came back, Daddy and the two black men raced through the darkness for the car barn. A moment later, the Buick was cranked and clacking wildly from the coldness. Its bright lights flicked on and it banged out from the barn and down our driveway toward the big road. Then, except for Aunt Greer’s crying, the house and yard went quiet.
It took a while for Mama to soothe Aunt Greer, who cried an awful lot. As upset as she was, though, she didn’t squeal on me for going into the bathroom, and I was glad for that. Even though it was only a few feet away, I would’ve gotten in trouble for leaving her alone.
McCall came in and sat himself at the end of my bed, and with all of us gathered that way, Mama told what happened. She said that there was a sick and infected black boy on Mr. Turpin Dunn’s farm, and that the sick boy’s daddy had come for Evette’s daddy, and Evette’s daddy had come for our daddy. It was real confusing.
“Why didn’t the sick boy’s daddy go fetch Mr. Dunn?” McCall asked.
Mama said, “He told us he was afraid to because of Mr. Dunn’s bad temper.”
McCall bounced on the bed. “I think it’s on account of Mr. Dunn being in the Ku Klux Klan. Everyone knows he’s —”
“McCall!” Mama scolded him.
I said, “Is he really?”
Mama shook her head. “You children mind your manners. How Mr. Dunn spends his time is his own private business.”
I asked, “You think the boy’s got the measles?” It was the only big disease I knew anything about.
“I don’t think,” Mama answered, swaying Aunt Greer back and forth like a little girl. “There’re a million diseases out there.”
McCall said, “He probably stepped on a nail. That’ll get a person real sick.”
“That’s more than likely,” Mama agreed.
Aunt Greer finally sat up. Sniffling and breathing so that her chest banged up and down, she whispered, “Those men gave me such a start.”
“They gave us all a fright,” Mama told her, patting at Aunt Greer’s hair.
“Didn’t scare me,” McCall declared. “I was just curious.”
Mama gave him her schoolteacher look. “I’ve had enough from you, McCall.”
“Sorry,” he said like he was innocent, then, secretly, he pushed his toes up under my covers and pinched my feet with them.
“McCall!” I yelped, and Mama grounded him for two days.
My daddy didn’t get back till breakfast time.
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