Jazz threaded her way through the late afternoon pedestrian
traffic. She wasn't running, running would attract attention,
but she was shedding layers of clothing as she went. The faded
beige knitted hat was first into a garbage can, she dumped a
deliberately baggy dark green sweater into a Goodwill box,
and got rid of her equally large long print skirt two blocks
away. This left her in an oversized Henley worn over dark
leggings, socks and fourth hand Doc Martens, patched with
electrician's tape over the toes. She wrapped Cha Cha's yards
of lavender babushka style scarf around her waist, letting the
fringe hang almost to her knees, and fluffed her bright cap of
hair. In a storefront window, Jazz could tell that she was passing
again, a really eccentric college student from the U, or a starving
artist. Then she set off at a trot for home. Blair had to know, she
couldn't call his friend again.
"What if Jazz hadn't been prepared, man? Your buddy would
have caged her and tried to muscle your whereabouts out of
her!" Retro was furious, pacing Blair's small room.
Sandburg struggled to sit up. "Look, Jim's a cop but he's
a good guy. He wouldn't have hurt her, you, Jazz. You
gotta believe me."
She was sitting on the edge of his pallet, one leg curled under
her, and now the red-haired girl leaned over, put a comforting
hand on his shoulder. Charlie sat on his other side and pushed
the pillows up behind him so he could sit more comfortably.
"No one is blaming you, Blair." and she turned a steel gray
glare at her posturing friend. "I'm sure your partner's a good
person. But I can't afford to get arrested. None of us can. We
don't have good ID, some of us have records for petty stuff, but
that's the sort of things that cops use against us.
Retro saw how pale their guest was, and came over, crouched
beside the others in a reconciliatory way. "No, man, I ain't blaming
you. But, the truth of the matter is, he set her up. He's going to have
to hold for a couple of days until Sonata says you can move. Then
we'll get you back home or wherever and trust you not to rat us
out."
Cha Cha moved restlessly on the three legged stool she
perched on, pushing her black hair off her face, tying it
back with a bit of red cloth. Her expression was unusually
serious. "You understand what we are trusting you with,
don't you? Our freedom, our lives. Our family. This is no
game to us." And the dark eyes in the tanned face were
fierce.
Before Blair could reassure her, Sonata walked in and
scattered them, asking just how they thought her patient
was ever going to get well enough to leave if they kept him
from sleeping? She carried two mugs, one of willowbark
tea and another of soup, substantial soup, that sent the rest
of the crowd scrambling for the other room. Handing him
the willowbark first, the older woman took his pulse again,
and smiled down at him.
"You don't mind them, child. They can see the goodness in
you as clearly as I can. What happened today just scared
them, scared Jazz. We've gotten used to each other, used
to our world. Used to this place, I reckon. If we have to
move on, it won't hurt us any in the long run. We'll have each
other, and family is all that counts at day's end."
A sudden impulse moved him. "What happened to your family,
Sonata?"
She closed her eyes a moment, her large expressive face
going blank and impassive. When she spoke, it was from
far away. "My husband was a doctor, one of the best
colored doctors in the city we lived in, too. Our boys, I
had three boys, and a little girl too. My husband and
our oldest boy died in Korea. My youngest two went to
Vietnam..and came home in plastic. My baby girl..she picked
the wrong man to fall in love with. One Christmas, he
beat her to death before killing his sorry self with his service
revolver." The dark eyes were suddenly very bright in the dim
light, and Blair groped for her work hardened hand.
"That was a long time ago, child." Sonata told him. "My
parents wanted me to have opportunities and I did. I met
my husband in medical school, and when he died, I went
back. So I could always support my children, and now, I
can take care of my new family. Life isn't easy, Blair,
but it's always precious, at least to me. You eat that
soup now, and you get some sleep." And, like before,
she brushed the soft hair back from his forehead and
left him alone with his meal, and his thoughts.
So much pain, and no bitterness. How many people
have that kind of heart? His mind was racing as he
slowly ate, imagining Naomi in those circumstances,
thankful that her losses had never been that great.
end part nine
traffic. She wasn't running, running would attract attention,
but she was shedding layers of clothing as she went. The faded
beige knitted hat was first into a garbage can, she dumped a
deliberately baggy dark green sweater into a Goodwill box,
and got rid of her equally large long print skirt two blocks
away. This left her in an oversized Henley worn over dark
leggings, socks and fourth hand Doc Martens, patched with
electrician's tape over the toes. She wrapped Cha Cha's yards
of lavender babushka style scarf around her waist, letting the
fringe hang almost to her knees, and fluffed her bright cap of
hair. In a storefront window, Jazz could tell that she was passing
again, a really eccentric college student from the U, or a starving
artist. Then she set off at a trot for home. Blair had to know, she
couldn't call his friend again.
"What if Jazz hadn't been prepared, man? Your buddy would
have caged her and tried to muscle your whereabouts out of
her!" Retro was furious, pacing Blair's small room.
Sandburg struggled to sit up. "Look, Jim's a cop but he's
a good guy. He wouldn't have hurt her, you, Jazz. You
gotta believe me."
She was sitting on the edge of his pallet, one leg curled under
her, and now the red-haired girl leaned over, put a comforting
hand on his shoulder. Charlie sat on his other side and pushed
the pillows up behind him so he could sit more comfortably.
"No one is blaming you, Blair." and she turned a steel gray
glare at her posturing friend. "I'm sure your partner's a good
person. But I can't afford to get arrested. None of us can. We
don't have good ID, some of us have records for petty stuff, but
that's the sort of things that cops use against us.
Retro saw how pale their guest was, and came over, crouched
beside the others in a reconciliatory way. "No, man, I ain't blaming
you. But, the truth of the matter is, he set her up. He's going to have
to hold for a couple of days until Sonata says you can move. Then
we'll get you back home or wherever and trust you not to rat us
out."
Cha Cha moved restlessly on the three legged stool she
perched on, pushing her black hair off her face, tying it
back with a bit of red cloth. Her expression was unusually
serious. "You understand what we are trusting you with,
don't you? Our freedom, our lives. Our family. This is no
game to us." And the dark eyes in the tanned face were
fierce.
Before Blair could reassure her, Sonata walked in and
scattered them, asking just how they thought her patient
was ever going to get well enough to leave if they kept him
from sleeping? She carried two mugs, one of willowbark
tea and another of soup, substantial soup, that sent the rest
of the crowd scrambling for the other room. Handing him
the willowbark first, the older woman took his pulse again,
and smiled down at him.
"You don't mind them, child. They can see the goodness in
you as clearly as I can. What happened today just scared
them, scared Jazz. We've gotten used to each other, used
to our world. Used to this place, I reckon. If we have to
move on, it won't hurt us any in the long run. We'll have each
other, and family is all that counts at day's end."
A sudden impulse moved him. "What happened to your family,
Sonata?"
She closed her eyes a moment, her large expressive face
going blank and impassive. When she spoke, it was from
far away. "My husband was a doctor, one of the best
colored doctors in the city we lived in, too. Our boys, I
had three boys, and a little girl too. My husband and
our oldest boy died in Korea. My youngest two went to
Vietnam..and came home in plastic. My baby girl..she picked
the wrong man to fall in love with. One Christmas, he
beat her to death before killing his sorry self with his service
revolver." The dark eyes were suddenly very bright in the dim
light, and Blair groped for her work hardened hand.
"That was a long time ago, child." Sonata told him. "My
parents wanted me to have opportunities and I did. I met
my husband in medical school, and when he died, I went
back. So I could always support my children, and now, I
can take care of my new family. Life isn't easy, Blair,
but it's always precious, at least to me. You eat that
soup now, and you get some sleep." And, like before,
she brushed the soft hair back from his forehead and
left him alone with his meal, and his thoughts.
So much pain, and no bitterness. How many people
have that kind of heart? His mind was racing as he
slowly ate, imagining Naomi in those circumstances,
thankful that her losses had never been that great.
end part nine