Sweet Whispers, Brother Rush Page 8

  If she had been slender, which she never was, she would have been a dream, Tree thought. As it was, she was a black beauty. She was the woman with the young girl in Brother Rush’s country. Tree didn’t recall that woman in Rush’s place being as big as M’Vy. The size and shape of that woman never entered into what was going on there. She knew the two women had to be one and the same. What she didn’t know was whether what she saw and what went on in Rush’s place had actually been.

  M’Vy’s face was tight under skin the color of raw honey. It looked like it had been shined and sprinkled with tiny chocolate chips high on the cheeks. She wore a lavender dress gathered at the shoulders. Old-timey, it fell softly in pale purple folds below her knees. Three-quarter sleeves, like Tree’s bathrobe; it was lightweight material, comfortable to wear. M’Vy would perspire from the exertion of going inside and out and climbing on and off buses. Waiting long times at bus stops, waiting at side doors for rain to stop, for snow to stop blowing. She never could stand a lot of clothing. Hardly nothing, maybe some sheer underwear next to her skin.

  Coming in silently, unobserved, Tree watched her. M’Vy’s chest moved up and down beneath the folds of the dress. She stood by the counter light, sideways and facing away from Tree. She had one hand raised on top of the refrigerator. Tree had often seen her stand that way. Looking around, judging neatness.

  Tree always did leave everything just as neat as a pin after each meal, in case Vy came home. M’Vy had to make sure no ragtag lack of discipline had crept into her house. She pronounced the word dis i pline and she told Tree often enough that dis i pline was what kept the three of them together.

  “You cain’t see it,” she had told Tree. “You cain’t touch it. But it what keep you safe in here. It hold me, working away and coming back to care for yo’w.”

  Tree’s eyes filled with tears. Her throat closed around a large lump of relief, of joy, at having M’Vy home. Yet she had a lost feeling, waiting so long until M’Vy was ready.

  Be over soon, Tree thought.

  And soon it was over. M’Vy took one last look around. Turning, she saw Tree. “Yes,” she sighed. “Tree.” Her voice was a singing bird’s to Tree. It was high and clear, full of country fresh air.

  She flung herself into M’Vy’s arms. Vy staggered under Tree’s force. Then Vy held her, lifting her off the floor. She swayed with Tree from side to side, smothering the child against her.

  What did it matter that Tree couldn’t breathe, planted as she was against M’Vy’s breast? She would have grown again inside M’Vy if she could have.

  Tree closed her eyes. She cried. And cried.

  “Poor honey—my baby!” Vy whispered. She didn’t loosen her arms around Tree but let Tree’s feet touch the floor. She wouldn’t let go until Tree was ready.

  “Dint call because knew I couldn’t get home until way late,” Vy said. “You forgive me? Nothin to it. Know I be here every minute if I just could.” Vy’s chest shook as, quietly, she began crying along with Tree. Vy made no sound when she cried. Tree looked up to see tears streaming down her face. She let go of Vy and smoothed her hand on the tears. Vy kissed her hand.

  “M’Vy,” Tree said, “I love you,” said haltingly. It was not easy for her to say. Saying it meant she let herself go, it was safe to let go now. Was it?

  “I love you, too,” Vy told her, clutching Tree’s face in her hands. “Okay now, don’t cry no more,” she said with finality.

  “You, either,” Tree said.

  “All right,” Vy said. They pulled apart. Wiped their eyes. Tree located some tissues in a drawer. The tissues made dust as she pulled them out, they were so old.

  They stood, wiping their eyes. After a minute, they were giggling. They sat at the table, a pile of tissues between them. They laughed softly at themselves.

  “You face all puffy,” Tree told Vy. “Lookin like some bee sting you.”

  Vy smiled, said nothing, sniffing. She had Tree’s hands in hers. She patted them; took the wrists and patty-caked Tree’s hands. Not saying any words, Vy went through the motions of the rhyme of infants.

  Tree giggled. “Makin me a baby!”

  They sat there, hand in hand. Vy studied Tree’s face as she got hold of herself. “Everything all right, Tree? You got some food left? Knew you’d be running low on food bout now.”

  “I got some food left,” Tree said. “M’Vy?”

  “Well, then, everything be all right,” Vy said. “Nobody try to break in—you still got the tear gas?”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Tree said.

  “You see nobody follow you home? No boys in here?”

  “No!” Tree said. “No.” She felt a growing alarm. They were close to dangerous ground. “Nobody botherin me.”

  “No boys!” Vy said emphatically.

  “No’m,” said Tree, holding her breath. If Vy would think to ask about Dab and his girls. She never did. Never would she believe that Dab had girls he brought home with him. The thought would never enter her mind.

  Think he retarded, Tree thought. But that ain’t most of it with Dab. But she sure quick to think I be doin something evil.

  Tree suddenly felt angry at M’Vy. It smoldered, then passed to the back of her mind as more pressing considerations came to the fore.

  “Dab … not feelin so well, you know?” Tree said.

  The mood of a few minutes ago had changed. M’Vy stared bleakly around the small kitchen. “Think I make some coffee.”

  “What time it is?” Tree asked. She glanced at the clock on the stove. “It ain’t but three o’clock A.M.,” she said.

  “Good enough time for coffee,” said Vy. She got up to make it.

  “It the one thang I cain’t do right,” Tree said, “makin coffee.”

  “They lots a thongs I cain’t do right,” Vy said. She eyed Tree. She didn’t always appreciate Tree’s way of speaking words, although she was guilty of the comfortable accent they shared herself. Somehow she felt the comfort of it was something they should get rid of.

  “I mean thing and can’t,” Tree said. “But M’Vy, no kiddin, Dab be so sick. He can’t keep his food down.”

  Vy stared at Tree. “How long? How long cain’t he keep it down?”

  “This evening.”

  “That’s nothin but a stomach upset,” Vy said.

  “No.” Tree felt the fear come over her when she thought of the mystery of her brother’s sickness. “He say he in pain. Cain’t stand even for me to touch the bed, it so bad.”

  Vy was silent. Her face seemed to struggle with some distant recollection. “He with some fever?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Tree said. “It come and it go with the pain.”

  “Aching all over?” Vy said.

  “Yeah,” Tree said.

  “He got just the flu.”

  Tree wouldn’t argue. But she didn’t think it was a cold or flu that caused such awful pain for Dab.

  Let her see for herself in the morning, Tree thought. Cain’t … can’t … tell her how it is.

  Vy went about making coffee while Tree got up her nerve. Now there was nothing else to talk about but the one thing that made no sense when she put it into words.

  Brother Rush, a ghost, Tree thought. How do you say it out loud?

  “You believe in ghosts, M’Vy?” she blurted out

  Vy was grinding coffee. She had the glass container of water on the burner. She heard Tree’s voice but not the words. “What?” she said.

  Tree took a deep breath, another, but it did no good. All at once, she was crying hard, hiding her face in her hands. Just sobbing.

  Vy was there, pulling the chair up to her. “Shhh. It’s all right, honey. I’m here. I’m goin stay awhile. Maybe two days. Things rough here for you. You too alone.”

  “No. No,” Tree managed to say.

  “Dab, being sick. You worryin youself to death,” Vy said.

  Crying, Tree shook her head, trying to wipe the tears away. She knew how she must look. She was a
lmost choking; her nose was running. “Stop the cryin, Tree,” Vy said. “Cryin don’t do nobody no good.”

  “Yeah, it do,” Tree said. Her voice was high and whining, out of control. “You not listenin to me!”

  “I’m listenin. I’m listenin, Tree,” Vy said. “How can I listen with you slobberin yourself?” She giggled nervously in her high, country sound. “What a matter, hon? Tell me, Sweet.”

  Tree heard her heart beating in her ears, blood rushing, and she took a few gulps of air to calm herself. “Okay. Okay,” she said at last. “You might not believe me. But you know I don’t lie. You know I’d never in my life lie to you or make up some tales. If you ask me anything, I’ll tell you true.”

  “I know that,” Vy said. “It what I don’t think to ask that worry me some,” she said.

  She smiled, and Tree knew she wasn’t serious. Vy had deep dimples when she smiled. She could look like a sexy lady with the dimples, the kind they sang songs about, Tree thought.

  “You have a man friend now?” Tree asked her easily, as though they’d just been talking that way. Curiosity came over Tree at any time. “You get a dude,” Tree said, “you won’t have to ride the bus.”

  Vy looked at her, appraising her. “What make you think the dude gone have a car? I got a friend.”

  “You do?” Tree said, astonished that she had accidentally hit upon something cool. “You see him all the time?”

  Vy saw the trap and paused a moment. “He don’t take me away from yo’w, you and you brother. He just able to see me where I am at most the time.”

  “I could come round, see you,” Tree said. She could not keep the envy from her voice.

  “No, you got to care for Dab.” Tree was silent. All resentment evaporated at the mention of her brother. Maybe some could feel evil to a brother they had to care for more than themselves, the way she did for Dab. But she never could. Dab was so much a part of her. She couldn’t feel evil about him without feeling the same way about herself inside.

  “So you got a friend,” Tree said. “He one of a few?” Spoken without malice.

  Vy understood. “No,” she said. “He the only he, named Sylvester Wiley D. Smith. I call him Silversmith.” She smiled a secret smile.

  “You like him?” Tree asked. “This … Silversmith?”

  “I do,” Vy said. “Nice and kind to me. Give me no trouble. He brang my car by when I need it.”

  Tree’s eyes grew wide. “You got yourself a car! Whyn’t you tell somebody! How long you have it?”

  “Nothin to it,” Vy said casually. “Had it awhile. I need a car for my errands. They have a car I could use where I be, but I rather have my own.”

  “Tell me how long you have it. What kind?” Tree said.

  “Nothin, three months. Just a Chivvy. Pretty gray and black, lookin like new but it used. You don’t have to get upset about it.”

  “Three months.” Tree’s face fell.

  “It’s nothin!” Vy exclaimed. “What you want me to do, tell you about it, and you not be able to ride in it? Cause I can’t be here yet. I got to work where I can and hope for somethin closer to home.”

  “Yeah. I know,” Tree said. “I know it, but he get the car and you and everything. And me and Dab, we got nothin.”

  “That ain’t true. It’s nothin to it, I tole you. Don’t be mouthin,” Vy said.

  “Yeah, why then when you here, we go grocery shoppin on the bus?”

  “Cause I don’t got it here,” Vy said. “I don’t trust leavin it on the street. I got too much tied up in it.”

  “So he got it for you,” Tree said. “He keepin it.”

  When Vy didn’t say a word, she knew it was so. “When I’m gettin to meet this secret Silversmith?” Tree asked.

  “Don’t go mouthin, Tree. Forget your manners.”

  “Yeah, I know. We got to have manners and dis i pline!” She gave Vy a wicked look. “I know lots of thangs … you wouldn’t think I know, too,” Tree said. Something absolutely hateful twisted her mouth. The idea of a car belonging to M’Vy and Tree not able to see it once made her sick inside. The car was something she had never known she needed badly.

  M’Vy shivered. She had the Pyrex of boiling water ready to pour into the filter full of ground coffee. She paused, eyeing Tree. “That a smart-ass smirk you got on your face, girl,” she said. “You gettin streetwise, is it?”

  “I know lots,” Tree shot back at her. She felt as evil as she’d ever dared. Something hard and sharp raced through her, bursting forth with a killing speed. “You beat my brother good when he little, dint you?” she said. “You whumped him and tied him up to the bedpost. Vy. Shi. You sure some mother.”

  Suddenly Vy’s hand holding the glass pot jerked. Hot water spilled, and Vy let go of it. It hit the floor in a burst of exploding glass and searing water. Vy leaped away. Glass flew. Tree jerked her arms, shielding her face. When Tree looked again, the tip of Vy’s index finger was a swell of blood dripping in fast beats to the floor.

  “Ohhh!” Vy moaned. Her ankles were wet. Places on her dress were soaked.

  It wasn’t cold wet, either, Tree realized. It had to be burning wet. “You hurt?” Tree asked her. She hurried for some dish towels in the cabinet.

  Vy cringed from Tree. She seemed unaware of hot water over everything; yet her expression registered the pain. She did not notice her finger bleeding steadily now, darkening the side of her dress.

  Tree pointed at the streaking stains. “You bleeding, M’Vy. Let me fix it for you.” Her anger had evaporated. “Here,” she said, taking Vy’s hand and pressing a towel to her finger.

  Vy pulled her hand away. Her eyes glinted at Tree. “How … how …” she said.

  “Oh. How I know about you tyin up Dab? And you never tell it?” said Tree. “Then it’s true? He tellin true?”

  “Who he? Dab?” Vy whispered. “Dab tell you that?” She backed against the wall.

  “M’Vy, I started to tell you before. We got talking about your boyfriend … and your car.”

  Vy stared at Tree, afraid, as though she were an impossible vision.

  “M’Vy, Dab is sick, you know? I mean, real sick. He got to have a doctor or something. You got to believe it. He say the light on him hurt his hands. You got to see his hands. Stuff on ’em, lookin like they been cut up.” Tree recalled the ugly scars she’d seen on Dab’s hands. She had had no time to even wonder about them until now. “M’Vy, listen,” Tree said. And very carefully, “There be a ghost in this house.”

  Vy’s legs quivered. She was sliding. Down the wall she went, sinking to the floor. A shuddering sound escaped her lips. She was on her knees, gazing at Tree.

  “You don’t have to be afraid,” Tree told her. “He won’t hurt you.” Speaking fast. “It be a male ghost through the table in my little room. See, I had Dab clean off that table so’s I could draw? Then he come, dressed so fine. I love him true! Brother Rush be him.”

  Vy’s eyes rolled back. She looked as if she were going to be sick to her stomach. Still, Tree went on.

  “I see him first in the street, Brother. Now he come through my round table all the time. Dab and me, we see him through the table, smack in the wood. And that’s how I know.”

  Tree turned her face away. “Know about you back then. Not all,” she said. “There’s a whole bunch ain’t so clear. M’Vy? You want to see him?” She didn’t know whether Rush was in the little room. She wouldn’t mind taking M’Vy there to see.

  “I ain’t afraid of it so much no more,” Tree said. “I mean him, the ghost. He don’t seem to mean no harm.” Speaking eagerly, “I’m not positive what he do mean. He young, a little older than me. I care for him.”

  Vy looked sunken, like a hulking fallen mass of flesh. All of a sudden, she appeared broken down.

  Like seein a stranger, Tree thought. She don’t look righteous no more.

  Tree waited, and finally Vy pulled herself together. She got up, wincing at the pain of cuts. Tree hurried out and back,
bringing Vaseline and Band-Aids, all she had. Vy took off her stockings. Wordlessly she rubbed Vaseline into the mean-looking red scratches and burns around her ankles. She winced again and again but said nothing. Then Tree gently spread Vaseline over the injured finger. “It ain’t all that bad,” she said. “The glass is out of it.” She wrapped two Band-Aids around the nail and the jagged line that still oozed blood. “There.” She patted M’Vy’s shoulder the way she sometimes patted Dab when he was down.

  Vy peered at her, hands folded in her lap. She searched Tree’s face. “You couldn’t possibly remember that. You were too young,” Vy said.

  “When I was little? Nothin back that far,” Tree said. “But how come you don’t talk about back then? How come I don’t know nobody kin to us anywhere?”

  Vy didn’t answer directly. “Maybe you did see a ghost.” Her voice was shaky, as if she might cry. “I know peoples who has, regularly. They talk to ghosts and confides in em. Maybe so.” She sounded fearful, yet resigned. “He my brother, Tree. And he was a grown man. You cain’t love him like a friend.”

  “It not your brother,” Tree said. “It a ghost.”

  “It a ghost of Brother Rush,” said Vy. “The youngest boy in the family. That my baby brother’s name, Brother.”

  “Maybe it was, but it not your brother no more,” Tree said. “It eighteen, nineteen—why is that? You think I’m crazy?”

  Vy looked quite exhausted. “No,” she said simply. “I don’t think you crazy, Tree. And we can argue bout what it is all night, and whether, and how come it is. So okay. I don’t disbelieve nothin. Let’s go see the little room.”

  Without another word, Tree led the way. She wouldn’t dare hope that Rush was there for fear he would not be.

  If he ain’t there, then am I crazy? But if he be there, then I’m crazy?

  Chapter 9

  THE COLD OF THE little room wrapped around Tree. No peculiar light announced the presence of Rush, the ghost. But there was something that was settling in.