Eva's Man Page 3

  My father worked in a restaurant and didn’t get home till real late in the evening. Around eight or nine some nights, and on Friday nights about eleven or twelve. He did different things. Sometimes he bartended, sometimes he’d work in the kitchen. The first time I saw Tyrone I didn’t know who he was. I came home from school and there was this strange man sitting there. Mama wasn’t in there. He was sitting in the kitchen by himself. I just stood there. He looked like he was a little afraid of me too. “Cat got your tongue?” Mama had come in. “Where’s your

  manners?” she asked. “This is Tyrone.”

  I said hello and then took my books back in the living room. That was the first time I’d seen Mama with a man other than my father.

  “I better leave,” I heard Tyrone say. “No, it’s okay.”

  Then I heard her getting out pans.

  I lay on the couch on my belly. I kept waiting for them to say something, but they didn’t. I was thinking maybe they didn’t want to say anything because I was there.

  Finally he said, “When you came in there with your girlfriends, I didn’t think you were married.”

  “I had my ring on.”

  “I never notice rings.”

  “Then it’s your fault.”

  “That’s all right, Marie. I’m going,” he said. “When am I going to see you again?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  There was silence. He was going to the door and she was going with him.

  “I didn’t mean to find you either, you know,” she said, and then he went out the door.

  Mama came back there where I was. I looked around at her. She just looked at me. She didn’t even have to tell me that she would be the one to say anything to Daddy if anything was to be said.

  “Why don’t you come peel the potatoes?” she asked.

  I got up off my belly and followed her in the kitchen.

  When we were in the kitchen and I was standing at the table peeling the potatoes on old newspapers and she was cutting up the chicken, I kept thinking that she would start explaining things, but she didn’t. She just stood there cutting up the chicken. The only thing she said was “You can peel them closer than that. look at all those potatoes you’re wasting.”

  I said, “Yes ma’am.”

  And then she would just see him. The musician was in this band that would play different places around. They played at the dance-hall for about two weeks and then they would play somewhere else. After they’d been going together a little over a month, the man that owned the place where Daddy worked wanted them to play out there. It wasn’t a big place, but they had a little dance floor. Daddy took me out there one Sunday when he was cleaning up, that’s how I knew how it looked inside. And then I could come around to the back through the kitchen. By the time they wanted Tyrone and his group to come out there, Daddy already knew Mama was seeing somebody, and he already knew who it was she was seeing. I never did know how he found out. Sometimes I think Mr. Logan told him, sitting outside his door all the time the way he did, seeing everything. I wasn’t afraid of him like I used to be when I was little, but I still hated to pass by him. He would always find something to say to me. Most of the time he would ask me how school was, and say, “Yeah, you got to get your education. You doing right to stay in school. If I’da stayed in school, I’d be a son of thunder right now. Couldn’t nobody touch me.” I used to think to myself, Wouldn’t nobody wont to touch you. I didn’t mind so much what he was saying as the way he was saying it, and the way he was looking at me. He never did try to show me anything, though. I thought Daddy might’ve been passing by one day, and Mr. Logan stopped him and said, “Your wife had a visitor this morning.” That would sound just like him.

  Tyrone’s band went out to play where Daddy worked. They only played out there for one night, though. Tyrone played saxophone.

  At first Tyrone was a little nervous about playing out there, because that afternoon I heard him tell Mama, “it ain’t no way I can back out.”

  “You don’t need to back out. Just go there and do your job.

  John’s an intelligent man.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. The way he acts. You can trust a man that gets angry. But you can’t trust a man that takes things calm.”

  Mama said nothing.

  “I don’t even understand the situation I’m in,” Tyrone said. “I’m in it, but I don’t understand it. You and your husband’s some strange people. Any other man . . .” He didn’t finish. I was just hearing it, so I didn’t know if Mama put her hand up or what.

  Mama was thirty-two then, and Tyrone, he was twenty-two. I looked on him like he was a man, though, even though he was as close to my age as he was to hers.

  When Tyrone got through playing out where Daddy worked, nothing happened. Maybe something did happen. Daddy came home and he said something about him for the first time. He didn’t mention his name or anything. He said, “I seen your buddy tonight.”

  “What?”

  “I seen your buddy.”

  Mama was silent. Then she said, “Oh.”

  What was really strange, though, was they still slept together. They’d close the door that separated their room from where I was sleeping, but like I said, the way the house was made, I could hear when they were making love. I’d always heard them making love, and it seemed strange to me when later I’d run across people who’d never heard their parents making love. But I suppose it seemed strange to them that I had. But they made love as if Tyrone wasn’t happening. I used to wonder what was going through her mind. Not his, but hers. It wasn’t until later I started wondering what would be going through his.

  After that night, though, whenever Daddy saw Tyrone, he would say, “I seen your buddy today.” That was all he would say. He would always see him outside the house somewhere, on the street or at the store or something, but never at home. The only thing he would see at home was that package of cigarettes opened upside down.

  I don’t know what I thought of Tyrone. He was just a man there. I never would say anything to him, and he never said anything to me. Whenever I came home from school and saw him sitting there, I’d say Hi, and then I’d go back in the living room. And then Mama would be in the kitchen fixing supper. Daddy had supper where he worked and then he’d come home in the late evening. So Tyrone would eat supper with us, and shortly after that he would leave.

  When we sat at the table him and Mama would be talking but I never would say anything, I would be listening to them. He would mainly be talking about funny things that would happen when him and the band went different places to play. He was talking about this one woman who was drunk and dancing and then suddenly lost her bloomers. She was still dancing up a breeze and her bloomers were down around her ankles. I didn’t think it was funny, but Mama laughed.

  Sometimes Tyrone would wear this little round straw hat and dark glasses. He said that was his working outfit.

  The first time Tyrone really said anything to me was one day I came in the house, and he was sitting there like he always was. We said Hi to each other, and Mama hollered at me from the kitchen. I went back in the living room. After a while he followed me in there.

  “Do you play jacks?” he asked.

  I nodded, but I thought I was too old for jacks, even though I was just twelve.

  He took some jacks out of his pants pocket and sat down on the floor. I sat down on the floor.

  “I haven’t done this in a long time,” he said, laughing. “Most the boys I know don’t play jacks,” I said.

  He said nothing and handed the jacks to me to flip first. I missed after the first two throws. When it got his turn he got up to his fours without missing.

  He won the game. We just sat there.

  “Do you want to play another game?” he asked. “I don’t care. If you do.”

  He said nothing. He was just sitting there with his legs folded, moving the jacks around. I
don’t know what made me look where I was looking. When I first started looking there, I didn’t realize that’s where I was looking, and then when I realized, I kept watching down between his legs. I don’t know how long he saw me watching there, but all of a sudden he took my hand and put it on him. I was scared to look up at him. That was when Mama called and said supper was ready. He pushed my hand away and jumped up, and went in the kitchen. I kept sitting there until Mama said, “Eva, come on.”

  I didn’t know what made him put my hand there because after that he acted like he was embarrassed. He wouldn’t hardly look at me. He had the kind of look people get on their face when they’re worried about something. I’d come home from school and say Hi. He’d say Hi but he wouldn’t look at me.

  Then after that he started bringing me things—things like popcorn and potato chips, doughnuts, cookies, candy, stuff like that. He never would give them to me himself. But Mama would say, “There’s some candy in there on the table Tyrone left for you.” I could still feel my hand down there. Sometimes when I would think about it, I would go and wash my hand. I don’t know why I did that, though. Either I would do something to keep from being alone with him, or he would do something to keep himself from being alone with me. like once Mama had to go to the store. He offered to go, but she said Naw, she would go. He sat in there for a while. I was back in the living room, but I knew he was sitting in there. And then he got up and went outside. I could hear him out there talking to Mr. Logan. I visualized him standing out there, smoking and nervous, talking to Mr. Logan, and Mr. Logan looking at him hard.

  He didn’t come back in the house till Mama came. She lowered her voice when they got inside, but Mr. Logan still ought’ve heard.

  “What you doing out there talking to him?”

  “He’s all right.”

  “All he does is mind everybody’s business but his own.”

  “He probably don’t have his own business to mind. You can’t blame him.”

  Mama said, “Well, he ain’t nothing but a old shit.”

  Then he stayed in the house while Mama was getting supper ready.

  She asked me to come and grease the pan for the biscuits.

  When I passed Tyrone, he was looking down at my feet. “What’s wrong with you?” Mama asked when I got in the kitchen.

  “What?”

  “You can grease ten pans with all that grease.”

  Mama always used to make fun of Tyrone’s name. I remember close to when he first started coming, we were sitting at the table.

  “Your mama name you after a movie star too?” Mama asked. Tyrone looked embarrassed. He didn’t say anything. He was kind of shy of her at first, even though they were going together. At least that’s what I used to think, or maybe it’s just he felt uncomfortable with me there, me being her daughter and all.

  “When I was coming up,” Mama said, sounding as if she was more than just ten years older than him, “people was naming their children Tyrone and Clark Gable. If they didn’t name em Clark, they would name em Gable. Who else? Ronald Colman and names like that. You know what Mr. Logan’s first name is? Valentino. He don’t hardly use it, though, except when he has to sign something legal, cause he don’t wont people to call him Val, you know. So most people just think his name is Logan and just call him Logan. That’s funny, though.”

  “I was named after my grandfather, I wasn’t named after no movie star,” Tyrone said. He sounded like he was angry.

  “I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  “I’m not mad.” He still sounded mad.

  “Well, it is easy to think you was named after him. My mother almost named me Claudette, but my father raised such hell, she didn’t. He said she bed not name no daughter of his Claudette.”

  Tyrone laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just I hate for people to think I was named after him, when I wasn’t.”

  Mama nodded, then she kind of laughed again. He looked hurt, like she was laughing at him, but she said, “I don’t think Mr. Logan’s granddaddy was named no Valentino, though.”

  Tyrone laughed. I laughed too. If Mr. Logan heard, I don’t think he laughed.

  “You remember how it feel, don’t you?”

  I said nothing. He said it real soft, almost in a whisper. Mama was in the kitchen and had the radio on.

  “You remember how it feel your hand down there, don’t you?

  I know you remember it, cause I remember it.”

  He’d gotten close to me. I was sitting on the couch, but he didn’t sit down beside me. He just stood close to me, and if I looked across at him I’d have to look at the part of his pants where his private was. I looked up once, and it looked like it had that day, and I looked down at my book.

  “I know you remember, cause I remember.”

  I sat real stiff. I remember thinking he was crazy. Then I kind of scooted over and then darted into the kitchen where Mama was. I didn’t go into the kitchen right quick. I slowed down before I got there, and then when I got there I asked her if I could help with anything. She said, “Naw, honey.” When I turned he was standing in the door. I would have had to squeeze by him if I wanted to get by, so I sat down at the kitchen table.

  “You finished your homework?” Mama asked. “Naw ma’am.”

  “Well, you go in there and finish it then.”

  “I just got a little bit more to do. I thought I’d do it after supper. My eyes are tired.”

  “Well, okay,” she said. “Why don’t you go and look at those beans and see if they need any more water.”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  I went and looked at the beans. I put half a cup of water in them and then came back and sat at the table. Mama looked at me and then went on slicing cheese for the macaroni. I could see Tyrone still standing in the door, but I wouldn’t look at him directly. I didn’t want to know what kind of expression he had on his face.

  After that I would always sit in the room closer to the kitchen and do my homework. I’d always ask Mama if she wanted me to help her, and then I’d help her. Even though he was sitting in that room too, I was closer to her, and if he said anything, she would hear him. I guess she thought it was funny me sitting in there when I used to sit back in the living room. Maybe she thought I had a crush on Tyrone or something and was sitting in there where he was. I didn’t even like his eyes on me. like when I was writing my math problems or reading, I could feel his eyes on me. I didn’t dare look up at him.

  Tyrone was standing down below the stairs when I got home from school. I wasn’t going to say nothing to him, I was just going on up the stairs.

  “You see me, you can speak,” he said.

  I stopped at the bottom of the stairs, but still didn’t say anything.

  “You felt me and you can still feel me,” he said. “You still know how it feel.”

  “I didn’t feel nothing.”

  “Yes you did. I felt it, so I know you did.”

  “You crazy, man.”

  “Don’t you call me crazy, you little evil devil bitch. Don’t you call me crazy.”

  He reached his hand out like he was going to grab at me and pull me down there beside him. That was when the noise came. It came real soft at first, but it made Tyrone jump back. “Hoot.” Then it came again louder, like somebody was calling. “Hoot.” like when somebody is out in the street calling. Tyrone stayed under the stairs. I stood there for a second and then I cut out and ran. When I got to the top of the stairs, Mr. Logan was looking at me. He was looking like he hadn’t heard anything. I didn’t know whether I should tell him thanks or not. I kind of smiled at him and then I darted inside.

  When Tyrone was late coming back from the market, he told Mama he had stopped to talk to an old buddy.

  It was as if Daddy was waiting till he saw them together. He knew about it but it was like it wasn’t happening until he saw it. It was the same day he quit his job and came home. He said he wasn’t going to work and take shit too. He said if he was going
to work, he wouldn’t take shit. And he said he wasn’t going to take shit. He never did tell us what had happened at work. He didn’t tell us that was the reason he came home early until about a week later. He’d go out every day, looking for another job, and we’d think he’d be working. He had come home early, and yet he knew what he’d find, knew they’d be there. And at the same time he was waiting to see it. He could have come home early at any time. Mama thought he had come home early just to see them. What I’m trying to say is he wouldn’t come home until there was a real reason for him to, and yet he knew what he would find when he got there. He didn’t find them doing anything, because if they ever did anything, it was before I got home from school. Because I was there. I was back in the living room. And anyway, when he came home they were sitting in the kitchen talking. I knew who it was when I heard that other door, and I knew they knew who it was. They’d stopped talking. I heard one chair moving. I kept waiting for Daddy to say something. They must’ve been looking and waiting. I don’t know what kind of look Daddy must’ve had on his face, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be Mama and seen it. That’s what’s still so strange to me, though. He knew it, and yet he had to see them sitting in there in his home, before he’d do anything, react, before he let his feelings out. I kept listening for him to say something.

  “I left the door standin’ open, buddy.”

  I remembered I had only heard the door open but not close. Tyrone didn’t talk back to my father or nothing. He just got up and on his way out, Daddy said, “Close that door behind you, will you, buddy?” He closed the door. I was waiting to hear if he’d slam it or close it, but he closed it quietly like he was afraid of making any noise.

  Then there was this other silence, waiting. I heard Mama’s chair scoot a little like she was going to get up. Neither one of them was saying anything. I don’t know how long it was. It seemed like ten minutes to me, but it couldn’t have been that long. It must’ve seemed longer to her, having to see his eyes. Because she would’ve been looking right at him. She would’ve been looking right at him.