The Trees by Percival Everett

Author:Percival Everett [Everett, Percival]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Graywolf Press
Published: 2021-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

52

Mama Z was painting her front porch when Gertrude arrived with Damon. “Hello, great-granddaughter,” she said.

“Mama Z, this is my friend, Damon.”

“Very pleased to make your acquaintance,” Damon said.

Mama Z laughed. “Make your acquaintance? What century are you from, young brother? I’m happy to meet you too.”

“What do I call you?” Damon asked.

“You call me Mama Z, just like everybody else.”

“Damon writes books,” Gertrude said.

“He does, does he? Maybe we can find you something to write about.”

“I don’t understand,” Damon said.

“What do you know about lynching?” Mama Z asked.

“Some. I wrote a book about racial violence.”

“I know,” the old woman said. “I have a copy in the house. It’s very …”—she searched for the word—“scholastic.”

“I think you’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

Mama Z shrugged.

Damon looked at Gertrude, as if for clarification, only to see her shrug as well. “Scholastic,” he repeated.

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” Gertrude said.

“Your book is very interesting,” Mama Z said, “because you were able to construct three hundred and seven pages on such a topic without an ounce of outrage.”

Damon was visibly bothered by this. “One hopes that dispassionate, scientific work will generate proper outrage.”

“Nicely said, nicely said,” Mama Z said. “Wouldn’t you say that was nicely said, great-granddaughter?”

“I would,” Gertrude agreed.

“There are a lot of strange things happening in Leflore County, Damon,” Mama Z said. “Other places too. Not only Mississippi. Supernatural things.”

“Really now?” Damon smiled at Gertrude.

Gertrude nodded.

“Do you like the color?” Mama Z asked. She stepped away from the railing of her porch.

“It’s black,” Damon said.

“I know what color it is,” the old woman said. “I asked you if you like it.”

“It will be difficult to see in the dark,” Damon said.

“That’s very true, my boy, very true. I want you to remember that.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“Gertrude, take Damon inside to the library and show him the records.”

“Come on,” Gertrude said. “There’s something inside that you have to see. Do you want some tea?”

“No tea. I just want to catch up here and understand. Supernatural? What’s supernatural? What kind of bullshit is that? What are the records? Why is she acting so creepy? Who paints a porch black?” Damon followed Gertrude through the front room. He looked at the shelves. “She has a lot of books.”

Gertrude led him into the library and gestured for him to regard the array of filing cabinets.

“What am I looking at?” Damon asked.

“These are the records,” she said. “There is a file here for nearly every person lynched in this country since 1913.”

Damon was gobsmacked. He looked from wall to wall. “That old woman compiled all of this?” He stepped forward and ran a hand along a cabinet.

“Open it. Read.”

“Why 1913?”

“Mama Z was born in 1913. Shortly after her birth her father was lynched. He was a voting rights activist. His is the first dossier.”

“How many are there?” Damon asked.

“I don’t know.”

“How did she do all of this?”

“She’s not like the rest of us,” Gertrude said.

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