Tar Baby

Author:Toni Morrison
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Fiction, Literary, Caribbean Area, Social Science, Domestic fiction, Married people, African American Studies, Crime, Afro-Americans, Family Life, Interpersonal Relations, Fugitives from justice, Ethnic Studies, African American, General, African Americans, Retirees
ISBN: 9781400033447
Publisher: Vintage International
Published: 2004-03-15T02:43:22+00:00

“TARZAN mind if I use his piano?”

It was incredible what Hickey Freeman and a little Paco Rabanne could do. He held the jacket by his forefinger over his shoulder. With the other hand he struck the keys. Jadine was startled. In a white shirt unbuttoned at the cuffs and throat, and with a gentle homemade haircut, he was gorgeous. He had preserved his mustache but the kinky beard was gone along with the chain-gang hair.

“If I were wearing Tarzan’s suit,” she said, “I’d show a little respect.”

“That’s why I asked. I’m showing respect.”

“Then ask him yourself,” she answered, and turned to leave. She had been sitting in the living room after lunch waiting for Margaret when he entered and stood at the piano. She was impressed and relieved by his looks, but his behavior in her bedroom was uppermost in her mind.

“Wait,” he said. “I want to talk to you—apologize. I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“Good,” she said, and kept walking.

“You can’t forgive me?” he asked.

Jadine stopped and turned around. “Uh-uh.”

“Why not?” He stayed near the piano but looked directly at her, the question apparently important to him.

Jadine took a few steps toward him. “I don’t have to explain anything to you.”

“But I said I’m sorry. You can figure out why I did it, can’t you? You were so clean standing in that pretty room, and I was so dirty. I was ashamed kinda so I got mad and tried to dirty you. That’s all, and I’m sorry.”

“Okay. You’re sorry you did it; I’m sorry you did it. Let’s just drop it.” She turned around once more.

“Wait.”

“What for?”

“I want to play you something.” He tossed his jacket on the piano lid and sat down on the stool. “Would you believe this is one of the things I used to do for a living?” He played a chord, then another and tried a whole phrase, but his fingers would not go where he directed them. Slowly he took his hands away from the keys and stared at them.

“Couldn’t have been much of a living,” she said.

“It wasn’t. I could barely keep up with the drums when I was cookin my best. Now—” He turned his hands over and looked up at her with a very small smile. “Maybe I’ll just do the melody.” He tapped out a line.

“I don’t like what you did, hear? So don’t play any songs for me.”

“Hard,” he said without looking up. “Hard, hard lady.”

“Right.”

“Okay. I quit. I just wanted to tell you I was sorry, and that you don’t have to be nervous anymore.”

“I’m not nervous,” she answered. “I was never nervous. I was mad.”

“Or mad either.”

She walked toward him now and leaned an elbow on the piano, her thumbnail pressed into her bottom teeth. “I suppose Valerian invited you to stay for Christmas?”

“Did he?”

“Didn’t he?”

“I don’t know. I just got back this minute.”

Jadine stepped away from the piano and looked out the sliding glass doors. “He was carrying on this morning about some flower you made bloom.”

“Oh, that.

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