Malachi moon, p.5
Malachi Moon, page 5
“George Lewis!” Maybelle snapped. Her eyes were opened wide in shock. She glanced at Malachi and Rose Ann. “You children don’t pay that old fool any mind, for old people tend to do and say silly things when they start aging.”
George Lewis reached in the bowl and removed a chicken breast. “Pass me those collard greens, boy,” he said.
Malachi quickly looked at Maybelle for confirmation. She nodded. He reached over and picked up the bowl of collard greens and gave them to George Lewis.
“Thank you,” George Lewis said.
Everyone watched George Lewis pile food on his plate.
George Lewis stopped. He looked up from his plate and stared at them. “Ain’t ya’ll gonna eat?” he asked.
Maybelle looked at Malachi and Rose Ann. She nodded, as she reached for a bowl of candy yams. Malachi looked at Rose Ann and shrugged his massive shoulders. He reached for a piece of chicken. Rose Ann smiled as she reached for the bowl of collar greens.
No one said a word for a full ten minutes. All that could be heard was the sound of smacking lips, and utensils falling to the side with the sounds of pleasurable grunts.
“Boy, you ever play a guitar?” George Lewis asked.
“Nope,” Malachi said, as he bit into a chicken leg. He didn’t look up.
“George Lewis used to sing in the vaudeville. That’s how I met and married him,” Maybelle said. She dapped the corner of her mouth with a napkin as she looked at Malachi.
“What kind of songs do you sing?” Rose Ann asked.
“You ever hear of the Blues?” George Lewis asked. His mouth was filled with food as he chewed. He looked from Malachi to Rose Ann. They shook their heads. “The Blues ain’t about feeling sad or happy, girl. It’s about a feeling you can’t let go of.”
“How can you know if someone is singing the Blues?” Rose Ann asked.
George Lewis reached for the pitcher of lemonade on the table. He poured him a glass, and gulped it down fast. “The Blues is words you’ll feel from the bottom of your feet to the top of your head. Every word is meant to make a person feel like they experienced what is being said. A good blues singer will have the audience eating out of their hands when the song is finished. Tossing silver dollars on the stage to show their appreciation of a good song,” George Lewis said.
“Could you teach me how to play the guitar?” Malachi asked.
“What you want to learn the guitar for, boy?” George Lewis asked. “It takes time to fiddle with them their strings. Anyway, you and your sister didn’t say how long ya’ll was staying on.”
Malachi glanced at Rose Ann. “We ain’t in no rush. So I figure since you feeding us and we can’t pay you. I can continue to help you around here, and Rose Ann can help Maybelle do women chores for a while. And, Well, being that I’m here you can teach me to play the guitar,” he said.
“How you know I need you around here, boy? I been doing all right by myself all these years,” George Lewis said, as he glanced at Maybelle. “Anyway, you complain too much when it comes to doing chores.”
“You don’t need me? I complain at anything,” Malachi answered.
George Lewis looked at Malachi. “You sassing me, boy?” he asked.
“Huh?” Malachi asked. He changed his expression. His eyes became innocent and non-condescending. He displayed a smile that made Rose Ann and Maybelle laugh. “I’ll never sass you, George Lewis.”
George looked at him. “You better not. Anyway, it depends on how you work around here. Sure you been doing all right over the past year, but how I know you won’t get shiftless on me when I need you?” he asked. He took a quick glance at Malachi. “We’ll see, boy. If you continue to work right, maybe I’ll teach you how to play.”
“All right!” Malachi said. He looked at George Lewis. “I’ll do right around here.”
“You better,” George Lewis said.
The passing of the days turned to weeks as Malachi and Rose Ann lived with Maybelle and George Lewis. Rose Ann learned how to bake cake and pies; to sew, as well as how to make big dinners for the times they had special evenings, and Malachi learned how to play the guitar.
One night Malachi and George Lewis were sitting on the porch. George Lewis had the guitar on his lap playing it while Malachi sat across from him watching.
“Look, Malachi, each string on the guitar has its own sound. You want to play those strings as if you were caressing a woman’s...Well, you too young for that now, but you want to play the strings as if they were your friends. Each string gives off a different tune. One octave is different than the last. You as the player have to find which tune you want the people to hear. You can tell by the reaction on their face. Now watch my fingers as I play,” he said.
Malachi, sitting attentively in his chair, placed his elbows on his knees as he cupped his face with his hands and leaned forward. He gave George Lewis his undivided attention.
“...I have been working them fiiieeelllddds like a demon was on my taaaailll. The heat on my baaaaccckkkk, the thiiinnggss my mind. I don’t care about no sleep, I got to get that field done, fo the slower I wooorrkkrk, the more I gonna be in them there fields. My minds on fiiiirrreeee, and my feet burning something terrible. Whoooee! I got to get me some waaattteeerrr. It’s hot as hell in them there fields. Hellllll is hot! But them fields I working iiinnn, is hotter!”
Malachi was amazed at George Lewis’s voice. It sounded so smooth. And he had to admit the man could play the strings on the guitar with dexterity. He was impressed. The sound of clapping from the doorway made Malachi looked up and George Lewis stop playing the guitar.
“You still got it!” Maybelle said gleefully. “Husband, you wooed me when I first heard you sing, and you can still woo me. Can’t he sing, Rose Ann?” she glanced at Rose Ann standing beside her. Rose Ann nodded.
“Shucks, woman. My voice had so many cracks in it I thought I was going start croaking like a rooster. How long you two been standing there?” George Lewis asked.
“From beginning to end,” Maybelle said. She was still clapping.
“That was nice, George Lewis, but Malachi can sing better than that,” Rose Ann said. She smiled.
Malachi shook his head as if to stop Rose Ann from finishing her sentence, but she ignored his gesture.
“Can he now? Well, boy I’ll play a tune, and you come in when you feel it’s right,” George Lewis said. He looked at Malachi and displayed an evil smirk.
Malachi swallowed. He had never sung in front of anyone before. He looked from Maybelle to Rose Ann. Rose Ann smile grew as she winked at Malachi. The pride beaming from Rose Ann’s smile made Malachi blush. When he looked at George Lewis, the man was grinning like a banshee.
“I—“
“Go on and sing, boy,” George Lewis snapped.
“He will do it. He’s a little nervous,” Rose Ann said. She nodded. “Show them you can do it, Malachi.”
Malachi cleared his throat. He took in three quick breaths, and then he glanced at his sister. She had put him in a corner.
“Sing them to sleep, Malachi,” Rose Ann said with laughter.
“I been walking on a road filled with a sight of fools gold. Bright gold that makes my eyes blind from its brighhhhtttttht glittering sight. It don’t make me no mind that I can’t hold it in my haaaannnnddddnd, fo I don’t need gold to love that woman in reeeeddd. Her fine, short dress, and her candy apple red shoooeeeesss, is enough to make me want to beg for her looovvveeove. I’ll skip, and I’ll run. I’ll bump my head on the ground...just so she could keep me around. I don’t mind if you won’t love me like I love you... All I need is for you to do is hold me...to scold me, but don’t you loath me...because I’m yours for life...I’m yours and one day you’ll be my wife. I’m a heartbroken fool...I’m a heartbroken fooooolllll. But you know something, woman...I’m your heartbroken fool, and I ain’t never, never, never ever gonna let you go.”
George Lewis played the strings on the guitar with the expertise of a man who’d been playing it for most of his life. The C chord he’d chosen to play was done to see if Malachi could sing at the octave he’d chosen, and, by the end of his song, George Lewis had found that he could sing. He strung the last note and stared at Malachi.
Malachi mouth had become dry. The nervousness and the singing had made his mouth feel as if he hadn’t had any water in days. He looked from one face to the other.
He smiled when he saw Rose Ann offering him a glass of water. He grabbed for it as if he thought she was going to pull it away. He brought the glass to his mouth, and began drinking it very fast. His wide eyes looking over the glass at George Lewis.
Maybelle began to shake her head.
George Lewis placed the guitar against the house. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Malachi.
“Um...that’s,” Maybelle began. “Uh, real —“
“Sonofabitch!” George Lewis snapped, as he slapped his hand down on his thigh.
“George Lewis, watch your mouth!” Maybelle shouted. “There are children present.”
George Lewis slapped both his hands down on his thighs. He stood up and pointed a finger at Malachi. “I ain’t heard no blues singing like that in all my life! Hell, boy, if I’d heard that on a recording, I’d never thought you to be no dang fifteen year old. You sound like you been through the wretched of the earth during. Boy, you made my toes curl, and that ain’t easy to do with George Lewis Bottom. No, sir. It ain’t at all. How long you been singing the blues, son?”
“The blues?” Malachi said.
“Yeah. That’s what you were singing,” George Lewis said.
“I been singing Rose Ann to sleep like that since she was a baby,” Malachi said.
George Lewis looked at Rose Ann. “How long?” he asked.
“I can remember him singing to me as far back as I can remember. That had to be about when I was five or six years old,” Rose Ann said.
“Five or six, huh? So that would make Malachi about eight or nine years old,” George Lewis said. He looked at Malachi. “Son, I know men that’s been singing most of their adult lives. And their voices don’t sound nothing like yours. You have the gift, Malachi.”
“What gift?” Rose Ann asked. Her voice had cracked with fear that Malachi had gotten some kind of roots spell cast on him. “Is it something bad?”
George Lewis stood up and began walking back and forth. “We can go on the road. Like in the old days. Set us up a tent at the edge of town, and charge ten cent at the gate. No...No, twenty-five cents,” George Lewis said. He words were like a rapid machine gun. “Never you mind that now, son. I’ll handle the gate purse. We’ll get you some clothes. Something flashy to keep audience eyes on you.”
“George?” Maybelle said.
“Son, at your age, and in the coming years, you’ll get better with time. That voice of yours and life experiences will make you a man not to be reckon with, as you get older. I’ve been around a lot of blues singers in my younger days. Men like Son House. Arthur Blake. Fulton Allen. I played with some great men in my time. Great men who could sing the underwear off some fine—“
“George Lewis!” Maybelle snapped. She looked at her husband with her head cocked to the side.
“This could happen, son,” George Lewis continued. “This could make you an important man. I’ll be there with you, Malachi. They won’t beat you like they beat me. No, sir. I’ll watch them like a hawk.”
“Goddamn it, George Lewis, stop it!” Maybelle voice was so loud that everything around them stopped moving. “You working yourself up to nothing. Now you stop it this instant,” she said, stamping her foot.
George Lewis stopped. He looked around, as if he finally realized where he was. He sat down in his seat dejected by the reality of what he’d lived.
Malachi had been smiling. He’d seen something he hadn’t seen in George Lewis before. He saw...joy. Now as he watched the man sit down, a dark cloud appeared to take hold of him.
“During George’s vaudeville days, he was billed as a new star of Blues singers,” Maybelle said. She walked over to George Lewis, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It didn’t last long though. Three years later, George was no different than any other Negro singing blues songs. When I met him, he was drinking heavily and near death. He’d been walking around sick with some kind of chest pain. If I hadn’t made him go see a doctor, he might’ve died from a heart attack. I followed his career during those years. Wherever he went I followed him from town to town. He didn’t know I was attending all of his shows. It would be some time before he realized that my face was always in the crowd urging him on. Always in the front row clapping the hardest. A real musician will play their hardest to please an audience, and George Lewis could do that. Over the years, though, it starts to wear you down. After seeing a doctor, I asked George to get away from it all. To let it go. We decided to buy this farm from the money my folks had left me when they died and the little money George had saved. I asked George Lewis to marry me, he did and we been living here ever since.”
“The boy has something I never had,” George Lewis said with pride. “He has the gift, Maybelle.”
“Come on now. It’s getting late and we need to be in bed,” Maybelle said softly.
George Lewis stood up. He reached for the guitar. As he turned around to go into the house, he stopped. Turning back around to look at Malachi, he offered him the guitar.
“The two cords that I showed you will help you get comfortable with playing,” he said. “Don’t rush it. Let your fingers strum it like you caressing a woman’s,” George Lewis stopped. He smiled. “Just be gentle with the strings, and everything will be fine.”
Rose Ann stepped out of the doorway as George Lewis and Maybelle neared. She walked over to her brother.
“He looked like he wanted to jump in the car and take you away, Malachi,” Rose Ann said.
Malachi nodded. “He’s a strange one, but he seems to me to have a good heart,” he commented.
“Well, I’m heading to bed,” Rose Ann said. She leaned over and kissed Malachi on the right cheek. “You made me feel proud tonight, big brother.”
Malachi watched her walked away. She was growing up, he thought. “You made me feel like a fool,” he said, and then chuckled.
Rose Ann laughed as she went into the house.
Malachi extended the guitar outward. He stared at its worn base and discolored neck. He could tell that George Lewis had been playing it for years by the fading of the lines that used to be on it. It was probably brown at one time, he surmised. Tossing the base of the guitar over his shoulder as he held it by the neck, he stepped off the porch whistling. Tomorrow, he knew, would be just another workday, and George Lewis would forget about tonight as he handed out his chores. He smiled at the thought.
Chapter Four
Soon, the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. The months eventually turned into years. Before Malachi and Rose Ann knew it they’d been living with George Lewis and Maybelle for three years. Rose Ann learned all there was in regard to taking care of a house. She’d also learned the ways of a woman. The first year she’d received her menstrual. Rose Ann had awoken one morning to find her bed covered in blood. She’d leaped out of bed screaming that she’d been stabbed while sleeping. As she ran through the house with blood running down her legs and her nightdress drenched in blood, her screams grew louder. Maybelle, her eyes partially closed from sleep, exited her room at the moment Rose Ann ran by. She grabbed her, and slapped her a few times before pulling her into one of the rooms and explaining to her what she was going through while stripping her of the nightdress, and washing her. She had given Rose Ann some cloth to placed in her to stop the bleeding. Maybelle had told her what to expect concerning her body and how to keep herself clean.
Malachi sat behind the wheel of the steering wheel of a 1928 Dodge Victory Six Sedan with anxiety as he glanced at George Lewis calmly sitting in the passenger seat.
“Listen, Malachi, driving ain’t easy when you first learn. You have to have faith in your skills and be comfortable while sitting behind the wheel,” George Lewis said.
Malachi nodded as he nervously gripped the steering wheel.
“Don’t be trying to learn everything in one day, boy. Hell, it took me weeks to learn how to drive my father’s old jalopy, and that piece of junk used to smoke as soon as you stuck the key in the ignition. Mind you, not when the key was stuck in the ignition and the car started, but when the key actually touched the ignition and nothing else,” George Lewis said, as he glanced over at Malachi. “What you sweating for, Malachi?”
“I’m a little...scared,” Malachi said.
“Scared? What are you scared for? I’m the one sitting in the passenger seat. Hell, if anybody ought to be scared, it ought to be me. Put your left foot on the clutch while placing your right foot on the brake. Put the gearshift in the first gear by shifting the stick upward and to the left. You’ll get the feel of the gear shift as you continue to learn,” George Lewis said.
Malachi did what he’d been instructed to do.
“You feel that power under there, Malachi? Sure, this baby is old, but that eight-horsepower cylinder can still hold its own. Now, I want you to slowly ease up off the clutch while lightly pressing on the gas, and then placing that foot from the clutch onto the break. Don’t rush it, boy. Take your time. Give the car a little bit of gas. When you do, the car will lurch forward a little,” Malachi said.
Malachi licked his parched lips as sweat began to form on his forehead.
Maybelle and Rose Ann were sitting on the porch watching George Lewis and Malachi. Maybelle was showing Rose Ann how to knit.
“Malachi ain’t never drove before, Maybelle,” Rose Ann said, as she unwinds the yard for Maybelle wearing a look of despair and concern.
“No one has ever learned to drive when they first get behind a steering wheel, Rose Ann. You learn by practicing,” Maybelle said. “George Lewis is a good driver. He will teach Malachi good habits when driving.”
