Family Ties. Ernest Hill

They’re talking about Curtis.”

      “What are they saying?”

      “They’re just trying to figure out where he is.”

      “Do they have any ideas?”

      “No,” she said, shaking her head again. “I’m afraid not.” She paused, and I looked at her and then toward the kitchen.

      “Well, I need to talk to them.”

      “Come on,” she said. “Follow me.”

      We moved deeper into the house, walking down a short hallway before turning into the kitchen. I paused in the doorway and looked. Mama was sitting at the table. Miss Irene was sitting next to her. Grandpa Boot was leaning against the stove. I looked at Mama. I could tell she had been crying.

      “Look who’s here,” Aunt Peggy said, announcing my presence. Instantly, all heads turned toward me. Grandpa frowned, then leaped to his feet.

      “Well, I’ll just be,” he exclaimed. He hurried across the room and gave me a big hug. “If you ain’t a sight for sore eyes.”

      When he released me, I looked at Mama. Her mouth hung open, and she stared at me but did not speak.

      “Mama,” I said softly.

      She didn’t answer.

      “Mama,” I called to her a second time, and when I did, I saw a tear roll down her face. Then I saw Miss Irene put her arms around her. And I saw Grandpa look at her for a moment and then back at me.

      “Where have you been all this time?” he asked me.

      “College,” I mumbled.

      “College!”

      “Yes, sir,” I said.

      “You mean to tell me you went to college.”

      “Yes, sir,” I said, looking past him. “I graduated a few days ago.”

      “Graduated!”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “You fooling!”

      “No, sir,” I said.

      He grabbed me again, lifting me from the floor.

      “You hear that, Mira?” he said, smiling. “This child done made something of hisself. Did you hear that?”

      Mama didn’t answer.

      “You’re a college man?” Grandpa said.

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Boy, I’m so proud of you that I don’t know what to do,” he said.

      “Me too,” Aunt Peggy said.

      “That’s what you come to tell us?” Mama said, speaking for the first time. Her voice was dry—no, cold.

      “No, ma’am,” I said.

      “Then what is it?”

      “Mira!” Aunt Peggy said.

      “I just heard about Curtis,” I said, offering an explanation. “I was hoping you could tell me what’s going on.”

      “Why?” Mama asked. “What can you do about it?”

      “Mira, please,” Aunt Peggy pleaded.

      “He was in the parish jail,” Grandpa said. “And he broke out sometime last night. That’s all we know.”

      “You have any idea where he might be headed?” I asked.

      “We don’t have a clue,” Grandpa said. “Just know that he run off.”

      “And I’m glad he did,” Mama said defiantly.

      Grandpa whirled and looked at her.

      “Well, I am,” she said.

      “He’s just making matters worse,” Grandpa said. “That’s all he doing—just making matters worse.”

      “He didn’t do what they said,” Mama said. “They lied on him.”

      “It doesn’t matter.”

      “It matters to me.”

      “Well, it doesn’t matter to the law,” Grandpa said.

      “I don’t care about the law,” she said. “Just care about my child.”

      “You better care,” Grandpa said.

      “They ain’t had no business locking him up in the first place,” Mama said. “He ain’t did nothing.”

      “How do you know that?” Grandpa asked her.

      “’Cause he wouldn’t do nothing like that.”

      “Was he still doing drugs?”

      “Nah,” Mama said. “And anybody who say he was is lying.”

      “Then what was he doing in that white gal’s house?”

      “He wasn’t.”

      “She say he was.”

      “She lying.”

      “She said he hit her upside her head. And she said if the other one hadn’t stopped him, she was sure he would have raped her.”

      “She lying.”

      “Was the nigger who pulled the job lying too?” Grandpa asked. “When they caught him, he said that Little Man was with him too. He even testified against Little Man. Said that Little Man was the one who hit the girl. Didn’t he?”

      “I don’t care what he said,” Mama said. “I know my child.”

      “Well, somebody hit her,” Grandpa said. “She had a big ole gash on the side of her head.”

      “I don’t care,” Mama said for the third time.

      “You better care,” Grandpa said again.

      “Lord, I wonder where he is right now?” Aunt Peggy asked. She had turned her back toward Mama and was looking at the window.

      “Only God knows,” Grandpa said.

      “I just hope he’s safe,” she said. And then I saw her look toward the window again. “Maybe he got away.”

      “On foot?” Grandpa exclaimed.

      “Maybe he wasn’t on foot,” Aunt Peggy said. “Maybe somebody helped him.”

      “Somebody like who?” Grandpa asked.

      “I don’t know,” she said.

      Suddenly, everyone turned and looked at me.

      “Was it you?” Mama asked me. “Did you help him?”

      “Me!”

      “Yes,” she shouted. “You!”

      “No, ma’am!” I said, stunned.

      “Mighty strange you showing up here now,” she said, staring at me with suspicious eyes.

      “I haven’t seen anybody,” I said. “I swear.”

      “If you know something,” Grandpa said, “you need to tell us.”

      “I don’t know a thing,” I said. “I just got here.”

      “What are we going to do, Papa?” Aunt Peggy asked.

      “I don’t know,” he said.

      “Pray,” Mama said. “Pray that he gets away.”

      “You think you can find him?” Grandpa asked me.

      “Stay out of it,” Mama said to me.

      “Mira!”