The Prophets(89)

He envied Isaiah and Samuel. Willingness radiated off of them in heat. It caressed their words, even the harsh ones. It adorned their hands, especially when they touched. They looked into each other’s eyes and, despite all of Samuel’s efforts to the contrary, something opened. How blessed Adam felt to be a witness to pure intention! He could carry this with him everywhere, even to his grave when it was time. No matter where they buried him—if they buried him: chances were that he would probably die at the end of a noose and swung from a tree before being lit aflame and foraged for parts—he would be aglow with the possibility he was shown, not the residual embers of an unkind torch.

He had it there with him, Isaiah and Samuel’s gift, in front of the saloon, where he waited patiently for Paul. Watching the people come to and fro, through the swinging, creaking doors. They were laughing or stumbling. They were by themselves and they were in groups. Or they were arms-locked with lovers who were most likely only embraced for that solitary evening. All of this—the noise, the swinging, the high-stepping—was so different from Empty. Full, maybe.

Adam hoped that when Paul finally emerged from this lively place, he didn’t come out too drunk. Toubab were unpredictable by nature and even more so after they had spirits. Adam reckoned that was probably because the spirits had such a cavern to fill that they had to work extra hard inside of them, and that additional inner labor is what made toubab outwardly meaner.

He had to be especially careful now in the bustling center of Vicksburg. The town kept its energy into the wee morning hours thanks mostly to the saloon, which drew toubab from neighboring towns and even from as far as Alabama. Usually, Paul would be leaving, finishing up whatever business just as things began to become merry. Adam only knew of the town’s unrelenting character because he would, in the dead of night, drive James there, when James would pretend the coach was his, and he would spend his meager wages on liquor and women, which seemed to make him feel like a better man.

Things were most lively on Saturday evenings. That was strange given that these were the same people filling the churches the next morning. Then again, they said Jesus turned water into wine for just such frivolity and commanded the Sabbath for rest. So what were they doing in church anyway? Ah, yes: they were asleep.

A stranger approached. Adam quickly looked down.

“Excussse me. Can you point me in the direction of the nearessst outhoussse, pleasse?” the man slurred at Adam.

Lips safely tucked into the moisture of his mouth, Adam pointed toward the road, going back in the direction of Empty. It was a dark stretch of road that seemed, at a point, to be swallowed up by the woods. The man looked out at the path. He shivered and then smiled. He turned to Adam.

“Blacker than a nigger’s pussy down there. And where exactly you say the outhouse is? I don’t see it.”

Adam raised his head and glanced at the man. He had already wet his pants, so an outhouse wouldn’t be any good to him.

“Down the road and just ’round the bend on the right, suh.”

“‘Suh’?” the man said as he stumbled back a little. “What you call me?”

“I think you best head on now,” Adam said, his chin tucked into his chest. He made a movement toward his hip as though he were packing something that he didn’t have. He settled his shoulders, squared his chest, and lifted his face, finally, and looked the man in the eyes.

“Go on now.”

The man looked on with blurry eyes. He moved a step closer to the coach and squinted. His lips parted as though he were about to ask Adam a question, a question that Adam knew before it could be uttered. The man snarled a bit, then eventually waved Adam off. He turned and looked at the darkness, then walked wobbly toward it.

Adam exhaled deeply and wiped the sweat from above his lip with the back of his hand. The motion angered him. He held his moist hand up before his face. He gazed at it. It didn’t make any sense. Even at night, it was the same color as any toubab, and yet he wasn’t one. He was only what could be seen in the shape of his mouth. He covered his mouth with his hand. Now what was he? Well, what he looked like was a fool aghast or a fool with a secret. But either way, a fool.

He noticed how the noise worked here. It was localized, coming not from every direction, but only from the saloon. Meanwhile, they were surrounded by a circle of quiet. Not that the woods were devoid of sound, but simply that the sound wasn’t an intrusion. It moved with the pulse of everything, including Adam’s heartbeat. It was like all of creation was inhaling and exhaling. Even the darkness seemed to move, but he knew this to be a mere trick of the eyes. He saw them back on Empty, in the dark of his shack, which wasn’t filled with children, though he had them. They were elsewhere now, if they were still alive. He had only ever seen one of them. A girl. A color in between his and the mother’s, whose name was lost now to memory. And that didn’t matter because the name was chosen by Paul anyway and she likely never had her own name in the tongue of her mother, who was likely dead. A blessing.

In the dark of his shack, he had seen the movement of shadows that should have been still. The swaying imitating the dark rhythms of trees; that made sense. But why should the dark refrains of the door or the squares cut out of the wall for ventilation also be moving when what they were representing were stone-still? A game of the mind. That’s all it was. Loneliness could do that to you. In the solitary moments, reality became undone and the physical laws ceased to abide by their promises, especially in that time between woke and slumber, which is when the boundary between here and there was at its thinnest. It was sly the way owls seemed to speak human tongues and figures long gone appeared out of nowhere to visit for a spell. Yet by the time you blinked or wiped the crust from eyelashes, everything returned to boredom. Adam sighed and learned to ignore the temptation that would lead him to believe that this was anything more than cruel teasing.