The Pecan Man(17)

“You gonna call the po-lice, Miz Ora?”

“I’m not calling anyone until I hear the whole story, but first I have to know something.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Are you positive he’s dead? And I mean really positive, Marcus. I can’t sit here and do nothing if he's out there somewhere needing help."

“He‘s dead, Miz Ora. Graveyard dead. I know ‘cause I tried to wake him up when I got hol’ta myself, but he wasn’t breathin’ at all. I sat there for a long time prayin’ he’d wake up or breathe or something, but finally I knew it was done. I heard a noise off in the woods and I ran. I didn’t know where to go. I knew I couldn’t run down Main Street lookin’ like I did. So, I stayed in the woods as long as I could and came up in your back yard.”

Then he told the rest of his story. I never had a doubt that Marcus told me the truth. He never hesitated and he never blamed anyone but himself for doing what he did.

When Marcus left Eldred Mims, he was beside himself with grief and fear. He wanted justice for Grace and punishment for Skipper, but he was scared of what would happen to his entire family if he went to the authorities. There seemed to be no way to do the right thing. He needed time to think, so he walked through the woods and out around the Minute Maid plant at the other end of Main Street.

He was coming back through town when he saw Skipper and his friends coming out of the door of the local pool hall.

“I saw them boys and I got mad all over again. But there was four of them and only one of me. So, I ducked into the alley behind the drug store. My heart was beatin' so fast, I thought it was gonna jump out my chest."

He said he waited until the boys' laughter grew faint and then he waited ten minutes more.

“There was so much hate inside me, I was burnin' up with it. But still," he added softly, "I jus' couldn't put Grace through somethin' worse than what she already suffered, so I figured I'd best steer clear of him for now."

“Your mama said the same thing."

“I wish she hadn't lied to me. That hurt me the worst. I ain't never known her to lie straight out."

“She never meant to hurt you, Marcus."

“I know that. And I'd made my peace with it in those ten minutes. Army say it done made a man outta me, so I decided to go home a man. I was go’n tell Mama I knew she did what she had to do. But, the more I thought about my mama, the more I just wanted her to wrap her arms 'round me and tell me everything was go’n be all right, like she did when my daddy died."

I thought about my own mother then, and how much I would have loved to have her hold me that way.

Marcus stepped out of the alley just as Skipper Kornegay crossed the street and stepped onto the curb, less than ten feet from where Marcus now stood. He said they both jumped like they'd grabbed a cow fence.

“Shit!” Skipper bellowed. “Boy, you scared the piss outta me. What the hell are you doin’ sneakin’ outta there like that?”

“I ain’t sneakin’ nowhere.”

“Looked like you was sneakin’ to me. You got some business back there my daddy oughta know ‘bout?”

“They’s a lotta things your daddy oughta know ‘bout, but I don’t reckon you’d really want him to know everything ‘bout everything.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, boy?"

Marcus said he got really calm for a minute. He stood looking at Skipper Kornegay dead in the eye. Not blinking. Not wavering. Just staring. I remember thinking that was downright courageous of him, starin’ a white man down. But, then I remembered that we’d come a long way since those days and that shouldn’t really be anything notable.

Finally Marcus found his voice again. “Ain't nothin' wrong with me. Not a damn thing!”

“Boy, you what my daddy calls a’ uppity nigger, ain’tcha?”

If I hadn’t known before, I knew when I heard that. Blanche was right about Ralph Kornegay and I was a fool. I’d been in polite society so long that I took social graces for social conscience. We may not hear that word much in public anymore, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t said in private.

Marcus said he'd held his tongue all he could.

“If uppity means I don’t take any shit off a child molester, then yeah, Skipper, I’m the uppity-est nigger you ever go'n meet.”

“What the…?”

Marcus said Skipper had looked confused for a split second, until he made the connection with Grace. He laughed then.

I saw the anger rise up in Marcus when he recalled that part of the confrontation and I knew what he must have felt when he stood face to face with that monster.

“I wanted to smash his face into the sidewalk, Miz Ora,” Marcus said through clenched teeth. “I knew right then I had to get away or I would do it. So help me, God, I would stomp him into the ground. I turned around and I ran - like a coward.”

Marcus’s face contorted with rage and shame. Listening to him then and knowing all I know to this day, I am absolutely certain that running was the most courageous thing he could have done at that moment, but you couldn’t have told him that. He saw no honor at all in the act, only necessity. He wiped his face on his sleeve and went on with his story.

“I ran as fast as I could, Miz Ora, but it felt like my legs was made of cement. I could hear Skipper runnin’ behind me, laughin’ the whole way. I made it as far as the woods and ran far enough in that I thought I had lost him. I stopped to catch my breath and I listened for him to follow, but I didn’t hear nothin’ so I thought he’d gone on home.”