“This was taken at the 1895 Atlanta cotton exposition.” Uncle Root tapped each figure in the picture. “That’s my father. That’s my mother. And that’s my big brother.”
Big Thom was a portly man dressed in a light-colored three-piece and a straw hat. He towered over Lil’ May, a petite, dark girl in a striped dress; her hair was braided in a coronet, and she stood very erect and serious. Tommy Jr. stood between them, holding the hands of both, but his head leaned into Lil’ May’s side. The boy smiled, revealing missing front teeth. A happy blond child in his sailor suit.
“My sister and I hadn’t yet been born. Mama was thirteen here, so my father must have been, oh, thirty-five or thirty-six? Something like that, and way too old for my mother. After she died, Big Thom used to tell me, he’d been a complete gentleman. He didn’t start courting Mama until she turned eighteen, but I’ve always wondered if he said that to seem a better man than what he truly was. He built the house for her after Pearl was born. Cordelia let us live in the house after Tommy Jr. died, and that’s where your granny lives now. I was supposed to move in and take it over after Pearl passed away, but I already had my own home. And even if I’d been homeless, I wouldn’t have lived in that house for anything in the world. My mother was ostracized by our entire Negro community for living there. They shamed her for being my father’s mistress. And then they shamed me because I carried his skin color. And if I moved into that house, it would be like I was all right with that. And I wasn’t all right! So goddamn that stupid-ass house!” He caught his breath. “Goodness. Excuse my language, sugarfoot.”
“You’re fine, Uncle Root. But you only have one more curse left for the week!”
I nudged him, and he laughed.
*
One day, when we returned from visiting Miss Cordelia, David was waiting for us on the porch. Uncle Root and he greeted like grown men, giving each other the latest soul shake. In the house, the old man asked, did David want to play a game of chess?
“I can’t play too well.”
“Neither can Ailey, but I’m doing my best to teach her.”
I stuck my tongue out at the old man, and then he went to get slices of pound cake and coffee. He told us he’d put plenty cream in the latter. He didn’t want to stunt our growth. We sat there an hour, chatting, and he told his Du Bois story, which David never had heard. Then Uncle Root asked us, did we want to go on a trip? But all he did was drive out to the family farm. We turned off and drove on the road out to the creek, and he stopped at a boarded building, where a chubby gray cat appeared through the weeds. When we climbed out of the car, David gave me his hand to hold.
“That animal’s nearly old as I am,” the old man said. “I guess eating rodents keeps her spry.”
“You mean like rats?” I asked.
“Don’t be afraid, sugarfoot. Brother David will protect you.”
I looked at my boyfriend, and he gave me a quick wink. We followed the old man through overgrown grass. He stopped and told us this was it. This was the place he wanted to show us. David made an admiring, polite sound, but I wasn’t having it.
“You drove us out here to show us a patch of grass?”
“Ailey, there’s a tree, too. A very special tree. This spot is where I was almost lynched!”
“Like, killed?”
“Would I lie to you, sugarfoot? It was 1934, and my wife and I decided to move back south. Olivia and I both had finished our doctorates at Mecca University. I hadn’t been home for a while, and she decided we should drive on down. I wasn’t too keen, but she was the boss of me, so I gave in.
“It took us a week. We made sure to travel during the daylight because a lot of roads went through the woods. We had some gallons of gas in a can, but only sandwiches to eat. Some jugs of water, too. Olivia was a brilliant scholar, but she wasn’t much of a cook. Neither was I. When we arrived here on the farm, she was napping, and I didn’t want to stop at the house just yet. We had all sorts of presents for my sister’s children, but I wanted to bring a sack of candy.
“It was a Saturday here at the store. Lots of folks, but during those times, Negroes couldn’t be waited on until all the white customers were served. That was one of the many things I didn’t miss about this place. Why I didn’t want to come back.
“My white half brother was the owner of the store, and when I raised my hand in greeting, Tommy Jr. waved back. I didn’t want to stand in line with the other Negroes. So I decided to pass, and I got in line with the whites. When I got to the front, Tommy Jr. winked, filled my sack with candy, and wouldn’t take my money. But when I left the store, Jinx Franklin recognized me.