Village Life - Part 1 (Milk with Suresh)
.by Phillip Edward Alexander on Friday, December 17, 2010 at 10:26pm.TAP TAP TAP
"Miss Jean!" "Miss Jean!"
She could not believe someone was knocking on her back window now, not when she 'now' get in the bed, and Lord knows getting in the bed and getting out the bed nowadays was a production by itself, old bones and old muscles not being what they used to be, dont like to climb about too much.
TAP TAP TAP (harder now, more urgent)
"Miss Jean!" "Miss Jean, iz me..."
Yes she knew it was him from the first tap because nobody else would be tapping her window at this hour, nobody else didnt feel they had a right to, but children have a way when they know you they does think everybody is part of their family, so she knew he didn't mean anything by it, this waking her up when she just gone and lie down in de bed, she knew he couldn't understand how old bones does creak and groan, the only bones he know was young bones, bones that make for climbing and running and jumping.
With her feet on the rough wood floor she felt around for her 'house' slippers, which was the same kind and color as her 'yard' slippers, but she knew which was which because she came from a time when yard things was for yard and only house thing was for house.
"Ah comin' ah comin..." She said to the direction of the window as she fastened on her old faithful dressing gown, the one her mother gave her when she was getting married all those years ago, before the children, before the grandchildren, before the funeral....
TAP TAP TAP
"Ah say ah comin boy!" "What wrong with you tonight?"
She reach the wooden window window and pull the chain that opened it from on top and felt it release and swing open, bringing the full moon and a little crying boy into her view, and the cold night air into her kitchen.
"what you doing walking about so late?"
Most nights he would come and 'visit' with her, drink some of her milk and just sit on the bench by the kitchen table and wait like he just waiting for time to pass, or he would lie down on the rough wood floor underneath the same window and sleep a little and wait some more.
"You ent fraid something eat you outside dey?"
He never asked to come inside, he never said why he was there, and truth is he didn't need to; she knew, the whole village from the stand pipe to the chicken farm knew this boy family story, a common enough story, but still not a nice one.
His name was Suresh, but everybody from his mother go back used to call him Surie and as that's the only name she knew to call him, so to her that was his name.
She watched him standing in her yard staring up at her, face wet from crying, tears dripping on the white vest that barely covered his small, thin frame; for some reason (and God alone knew what), this little twig of a child used to run away from his mother house down a half mile of dirt road in the darkness to reach her house when the mother man reach home drunk and bacchanal start.
She opened the back door and told him "well come inside then, you didn't come down here to stand up in the yard did you?"
He walked up the three twisted wooden back door steps and squeezed between her and the door she was holding half way open in a manner that said they were both accustomed.
"You want milk?"
He looked at her and didn't say a word and she would have been surprised if he did because he never really spoke. She didn't know if it was shame he felt or if it was scared he was scared to talk, but either way she didn't mind, she didn't really take too much to all that talking herself.
She opened the icebox and took out the jug of milk and poured it full into two metal drinking 'glasses', one for him and one for her. She didn't really like drinking milk this hour because it gave her gas, but she was thirsty and she felt like sometimes all you had to do was sit with a person to let them know everything was going to be all right, and as children were people too in her mind, so she sat with him on that kitchen bench most nights.
"Here"
She rested the cup in front of him, then eased her tired bones onto the opposite bench and began to drink her milk.
She was thinking that she was going an put one cuss on the cow farmer who sell her the milk, becaue she feel he watering down the milk now. Either that or the cow sick, because this milk not thick like she know milk to be.
She was picturing him now, pulling up by her back door on his big old black bicycle with the big weave basket on the front full with all sizes of bottles, each one full of fresh milk; she would normally by a medium sized bottle everyday except Saturday.
Saturday she had to buy two because Sunday was Church and he didn't sell milk on Sunday.
She was now thinking to herself the size of the cuss she was going to cuss because is donkey years now she buying milk from he, when Surie spoke and she nearly spill her own 'glass' of milk all over the plastic table cloth on her kitchen table.
"They not goin' an' come for me tomorrow."
She looked at him, surprised that he spoke and even more surprised at what he said.
"Why you say that, ent your mother does always come and find you in the morning when you come here?"
"She know is here to find you, where else you go be?"
That was the truth. Of all the houses in the village, it was only her house he used to go to when rum turn talk into action.
"Yeah but she cyah come tomorrow, they cover her dong with a sheet from de bed, head to foot, on de floor."
She felt her knees go weak and she was glad she wasn't standing. She knew Surie was not like other children, if he tell you it so, it so. Is either he doh know how to make up stories or he doh like telling stories, either way, if he say so she knew it had to be so.
Who cover she down?" She asked him, amazed at how calm she sounded and even more amazed at how calm he looked, sitting there on her bench in her kitchen drinking his milk and telling her this incredible story this late in the night with the moonlight coming through the window.
"Police."
She felt her heart move.
"Boy what stupidness you playin' up with here this hour, what you tellin' me?"
Surie looked up from the cup at his lips and said "I think he kill she, he take de big knife from in de drawer and stab she like how yuh does stab pig, only he do it over and over and over, an by de time police reach, she wasn't moving an' he was done gone a'ready."
Sitting on her bench in her kitchen with a little boy from 'dong de track,' Miss Jean drank her milk with her heart pounding in her chest.
For some strange reason she realized right there and then that she preferred it when this child didn't use to speak. At least then she could just go back in her bed and sleep till morning come.
Now she was going to be awake whole night, trouble come in de village, an' like it go be stayin' for a while.
When is the violencegoing o stop? When are the polie and th courts going to stat actually implmenting the existing laws?
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