Suder by Percival Everett

Author:Percival Everett [Everett, Percival]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Literary, Suder
ISBN: 9781497651920
Google: hFleAwAAQBAJ
Amazon: B00JPU61QS
Barnesnoble: B00JPU61QS
Publisher: Dzanc Books
Published: 1983-05-15T04:00:00+00:00

It was dark and quiet. Daddy, Bud, and I were sitting on the front porch, sweating. The only sounds were crickets and the clinking of ice against the sides of our glasses of tea. Ma had sneaked away earlier. I was flooded with odd and painful concerns. I worried that I was insane like my mother. I was bothered by a smell that I imagined on my fingers from Naomi Watkins. Daddy yawned and looked at his watch.

“What are you thinking about so hard?” Daddy asked me.

“Ma.”

Daddy looked away from me and out over the yard. “Don’t worry about her.”

Bud winked at me.

“Maybe Ma could go to one of those doctors for crazy people.”

Daddy shook his head. “White people’s foolishness. Causes more problems that it cures.”

“Well, maybe she should be in a place,” I said.

“Maybe,” Daddy said, slapping a mosquito. “That would get her away from that McCoy.” Daddy looked over at Bud. “How you doing?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Bud paused. “Doc, you sure I’m not in the way?”

“Positive.” Daddy rubbed his glasses across his forehead. “I’m sorry about my wife.”

Bud waved his hand. “Nothing to be sorry about. I mean, she is pretty interesting.”

“She’s that, all right,” Daddy said.

“What is it with this McCoy character?” Bud asked.

Daddy answered, “McCoy’s got this religious group that Kathy, for some reason, is interested in. McCoy makes me nervous. He’s crazy and I wonder how my colored wife fits in with a peckerwood like that.”

“You don’t think he’s dangerous or anything like that, do you?” Bud asked.

“I don’t know,” Daddy replied. “I guess not.”

I began to think of McCoy.

Bud broke the silence. “Seriously, Doc, you think your wife is okay?”

Daddy didn’t say anything. He just looked at the night sky. I didn’t like the pain I saw in his face. He was wearing the same concerned look he wore when I was really sick with the flu. I was seven and they thought I might die and Daddy sat by my bed all night with that look on his face. If I couldn’t hate Ma before, I was closer now.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about France,” Bud said.

“France, huh?” Daddy said.

“Yeah, I’d like to go there. You know, get away from this country. I hear things are different there, real different. People are free.”

I listened carefully to Bud’s words.

“Free. Can you imagine that?” Bud added.

Daddy chuckled and shook his head.

“Yeah, France.” Bud finished his tea and looked at his empty glass. “Think I could make a long boat trip like that, Doc?”

“After a little rest, yeah,” Daddy said.

“After a little rest,” Bud repeated. He got up and he walked into the house and he soon was playing the piano.

I looked at Daddy. “What’s wrong with Mr. Powell?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure is hot, huh, Daddy?”

“Yep.” Daddy paused. “Shit.”

Martin came home and went straight up to our room. When I finally went upstairs, I found him clipping things out of the backs of magazines.

“Sending off for stuff?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“What? Soldiers? A kite?”

“None of your business.”

I was trying to make things okay, even though I was upset with him about Naomi and all.

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