The Charleston
By Jimmie von Tungeln
The younger girl held the matchbox
steady as the older bored through one side and out the other an inch or so from
the front. Using a rusted ice pick, she carefully pierced the cardboard without
caving in the side. Her eyes narrowed from the concentration and her tongue
curled against her upper lip. Together, they repeated the process at the rear
and the girl held it up for inspection. “Now for the axles,” she said.
The younger picked up two slender
twigs whittled to a near cylindrical shape and handed them to her sister. She
stuck the twigs from side to side through the box. “Wheels,” she said. The
other reached into her dress pocket and handed her four large buttons retrieved
from a discarded coat. Taking them, she held them to the sky for inspection. There
were four holes in each button, pre-cut for accepting thread. In the center, the
girls had bored a single, larger hole. Through this hole, she pushed one of the
buttons, then the rest, onto the sticks protruding from the sides of the box.
“Won’t be long, now,” the girl
said. As she positioned each wheel, she stuck straight pins adjacent to the
sides of the buttons to hold them in place. Finished, she held the completed
apparatus up for inspection and then rolled it along the ground. The younger
girl watched in admiration.
“Works good Essie,” she said.
“Works real good.”
“We got us a wagon, Mabel,” the
other said. She rolled the toy along the ground twice more and then held it up.
“Now we’ll work on the tongue.”
“Let’s check on the team,” Mabel
said.
“Let’s,” said Essie as she rose
from her squatting position. She placed the toy wagon against a great oak tree
rising from the front yard. She took the younger girl’s hand and they ran to a
place under the porch of the house. There they had built a small lean-to a
foot-square in the shade.
A woman in her mid-forties sat on
the porch in an aged rocking chair watching the girls and moving in slow rhythm
as she fanned herself with a fan that proudly announced its source as The Buie
Funeral Home, Rison, Arkansas. The house was a modest structure
of maybe 20 feet in width. Like many others of its type, it had three rooms,
one behind the other with a back door leading to a well in the back yard for
drawing water. Other than the rocking chair, the only embellishments visible on
the front porch were a piece of broken mirror hanging from a string and a
calendar by the door outlining the year 1924.
The woman stopped her rocking and
fanning long enough to bend toward where the girls were crouched. “I’m
a’tellin’ you girls them baby rats ain’t gonna live the day out so you moughts
well bury them now.”
Neither girl replied. The had
removed a piece of filthy blanket covering a small nest of hay and twigs that
furnished the bed for four recently born rats. The tiny pink things were curled
into tight balls and quivered as the air hit them.
“How long afore they’s big enough
to pull the wagon?” asked Mabel.
“Couple of weeks, I reckon.”
“Hot damn.”
“I heard that,” the woman yelled
from the porch. “Now y’all quit tormentin’ them babies or I’m gonna whup somebody’s
ass.”
Essie giggled and covered the
babies. “When we get the axles and tongue finished, we’ll start on the
harnesses.”
“You still got them shoe laces?”
“All we’ll need.”
The girls withdrew from under the
porch and stretched in the morning sun. Both were thin. Essie was six inches
taller than the younger girl with jet-black hair that contrasted with the
auburn hair of her sister. Both had bobbed coiffures, apparently fashioned at
home. They each wore thin, simple dresses that draped over their bodies like
clothes hanging from a line. They were barefooted.
“Mama, you said Uncle Frank used to
make wagons out of match boxes and hook them up to rats. Why you fussin’ at
us?” Essie said.
“Them rats was growed. He didn’t
use no baby rats.”
“Ours gonna be growed in a couple
of weeks if you give us some milk to feed them.”
The woman rocked back. “Now you
girls shut up and come on around here. We got some washin’ to do.”
“Aw Mama. Can’t we play awhile?” Mabel
said.
“You can play when I tell you to,”
she said, but the girls didn’t hear. Their attention had centered on a distant
sound, one unusual but familiar. They both walked to the edge of the cleared
area that served as a front yard.
“Hear that?” Essie said nudging
Mabel. “It’s car, and it’s headed this way.”
Mabel didn’t answer. She turned to
look at her mother for confirmation. The woman had heard the sound as well. She
raised a hand to her mouth and Mabel could see concern on her face. “Mama,
somebody’s …,” she began but the woman motioned for her to be quiet.
“You girls come up here,” she said.
The girls obeyed and stood by their
mother as the automobile came closer. They heard a rattling sound that seemed
to echo from the large oaks that ringed the house. Had it not been for the fact
that only one road led by their home, Mabel thought that it would have been
hard to tell from which direction the sound came. It just came, that was all,
growing louder until they could hear, among the sounds of the engine, the
squeaking of the car’s body as it labored along the ruts and crevasse making up
the dirt road.
“Reckon who it is, Mama?” Essie
said.
“Hush now. You girls be quiet.”
Then there was a flash as sunlight
bounced off glass and the girls could see snatches of a dark form moving
through the woods like an animal on the prowl. The two moved closer to their
mother.
The form then burst from the
darkness of the woods and a complete automobile emerged. A faded black shape
marked with large rings of rust and dents bounced into view and headed straight
for the house.
Instinctively, the mother shooed
her daughters behind her, ready to absorb the first shock if the shape didn’t
stop before it reached them.
It swerved, though, just as it
reached the edge of the front yard and came to a sudden stop parallel to the
front porch. The front end dipped twice as if bowing in deference and then the
entire apparatus was still.
Essie peered from behind her
mother. “Look, Mama, it’s Carl and Fred.” She laughed at the thought of their
being frightened. “It’s just Carl and Fred. They done got themselves a car.”
Those on the porch couldn’t see
them well, but to the right of each of the men sat others who appeared to be
female.
“How you, Mama?” Fred yelled.
The woman didn’t answer. She looked
at the car and its occupants as if they had dropped into her yard from another
world.
“We come by to see you,” the man
said. “How you like my car?”
The woman looked the car over from
end to end. “What you boys up to?” she said.
“I done told you, Mama,” Fred said.
“We come by to see you.”
“Why ain’t you boys workin’?”
The man in the rear spoke to the
other who replied and then turned to face his mother again. “We off today.”
“Who’s that in the car with you?”
she said as if noticing them for the first time.
“They’s some friends Mama.” He
turned to the passengers and said, “You girls git out and meet our mama.”
He turned to this mother again and
opened the door of the car. “They comin’ around to meet you, Mama.”
With that, those in the car emerged
one by one, straightening their clothes and slapping away the dust that had
covered them. As the women came around the car, the girls stepped from behind
their mother and stared.
“Would you look at that?” Mabel
said.
“You girls hush,” their mother
said.
The women did present a spectacle
for two young girls in the backwoods. Both wore similar dresses that hung
straight from their shoulders and ended midways between their hips and knees
and were joined by a row of fringe that ended six inches above the knee. The
girls watched entranced as the fringe jiggled as the women walked toward the
front porch, each on the arms of one of the men.
Fred and his companion stopped halfway
across the yard. Carl took an extra step as he and his bumped the other two
from behind. Recovering, they all stood at attention as if on review before
those on the porch.
“Mama,” Fred began.
“Where’d you git that car?” His
mother interrupted him and glared.
“Hit’s mine,” Fred said. “I bought
it last week. Now Mama,” he began.
“Where’d you git the money?”
she said.
“I hauled some hogs for old man
Atkins,” he said. “Now Mama …”
“Hit must have been one big load of
hogs.”
“Mama, this here is Adele,” Fred
said, proud of his persistence. “And back ‘air is Bobbie June. They’s friends
of ours.”
“Why ain’t y’all haulin’ some more
hogs if’n it’s yore day off? Can’t you use some extra money? I know we could.”
“Now Mama,” Carl said from behind
Fred. “That’s what we need to talk to you about.”
“Shut up, Carl,” Fred said. “Mama,
can we come in and talk to you a minute?”
The woman deliberated, still
ignoring the two other women. Finally, she turned to the door, “Come on in,
then. You girls stay out here.” She didn’t specify which girls so the two
younger ones remained on the porch staring at the two women. They heard a door
slam in the back of the house and the Mabel knew they had gone all the way to
the kitchen to talk. It must be serious.
“What’s your name, sweetie?” the
one named Adele said to Essie.
“Esther Mae,” she replied.
“That’s a right pretty name,” Adele
said. “And what’s yours?” she said, turning to Mabel.
Mabel didn’t speak. She just turned
toward Essie who nodded. “Mabel,” she said, finally.
“Well I’ll swan. Ain’t you the
cutest two girls in Cleveland
County?”
Before they could respond, loud
voices roared from behind the closed door. The girls could only make out a word
or two but they could tell it had something to do with liquor. Before they
could hear more, the woman named Bobbie June spoke in a loud voice.
“Hey girls, come down here and let
us show you something.”
They looked at one another. Again,
Essie nodded and the two descended from the porch, one behind the other.
When they reached the two women, the
one named Adele placed her hand on Mabel’s shoulder. She started to speak but
sounds of loud voices from the back of the house attracted their attention.
Mabel only caught the phrase “comin’ in here drunk” in the mixed confusion.
Suddenly Adele spoke. “I bet you
girls don’t know how to do the Charleston,
do you?”
Essie and Mabel both looked at her.
“The what?” Essie said.
“The Charleston,” Adele said. “It’s the latest
dance. You do know how to dance don’t you?”
“No ma’am,” said Essie. “We ain’t
allowed to.”
“Not allowed to?” said Bobbie June,
moving to draw their attention away from the house. “Why, you should, and I bet
we can teach you in a sec.”
“You bet,” said Adele. “We been all
the way to Dallas, Texas to learn it. You know where Dallas is?”
“No ma’am,” said Essie.
“Well, it’s a long way from Cleveland County, I’ll tell you that. Come here
and look.”
She led the girls a few steps
farther from the house and then turned to Bobbie June. “Let’s teach these girls
a thing or two,” she said.
Bobbie June began to clap her hands
in rhythm and, much to the delight of the girls, sang in a husky voice.
“Five
foot two…
Eyes
of blue..
But
oh, what those five feet could do…”
They giggled when Adele began to
move forward and backward in pace with singing, placing one foot in front of
the other and then in back of it with arms swinging in perfect rhythm.
“Turned
up nose…
Turned
down hose…
Never
had no other beaus…”
“Now come on, you do it do,” said
Adele, grabbing Essie’s arm.
When Essie drew away, Adele said,
“Don’t be afraid. It’s easy. Give it a try.”
She continued to dance and motioned
for the other two to join her.
“See, just put one foot here, one
foot there.”
Bobby June was joining her now,
continuing to sing.
“Now
if you run into…”
Suddenly Adele cried. “Look at that
child.”
Three of them turned to watch Mabel
who was now beginning to move in perfect imitation of Adele. She stumbled once,
missed a beat, but soon was bouncing on her feet in complete harmony with the
music.
“Look at that bearcat go. Kick them
gams, you darb you,” said Adele. She stopped herself and joined Adele in
singing and clapping as Mabel began to move in frenzied ecstasy. He eyes grew
wide and her face contorted from concentration. Essie looked at her in
amazement.
“But
could she love…
Could
she woo…
Could
she, could she, could she coo?”
Bobbie June stopped singing then.
Mabel continued do pour every bit of energy into dancing though there was no
more music. The two women had turned toward the house when Carl came
quick-stepping through front door toward the steps. As Mabel raged forwards and
backwards, sounds of broken glass flew from the house and Fred came running
out, dodging blows from a broom wielded by his mother. He crashed into Carl,
who was halfway down the steps and the two went flying together into the four
standing in the yard.
It was then that Mabel stopped
dancing.
“And take them whores with you,” her
mother shouted.
She needn’t have worried. The two
women were already in car by then and before anyone else could move, Fred had
joined them. Carl was already in front of the car violently spinning a starting
crank. The engine stared immediately and he ran to the back door, crank in
hand, and dove in as the car began to move. In a moment, they were gone.
Mabel and Essie didn’t move. They
had seen storms before and knew that the best defense was no defense at all.
Essie simply looked a Mabel in amazement. Without changing expression, Mabel
winked at her.
“You girls start gettin’ ready,”
their mother said. “We got to go pick up Mizz Reed’s washin’.”
The girls walked back to the house
holding hands. Without speaking to one another, they walked to the spot under
the porch where they had left the baby rats. Essie squatted and removed the
cover. She watched the babies for a minute or so, it seemed to Mabel. The she
poked them with a finger.
“Mama, I think our babies died,”
she said.
“I done told you they would. Now
you girls git rid of them and git ready to go.” She turned and, broom in hand,
went back into the house.
“Bring me our wagon,” Essie said.
Mabel turned without a word and
went to the base of the tree where the matchbox wagon lay. She picked it up and
returned with it to where Essie still squatted quietly. She handed the box to
her sister.
“We ain’t got time to bury them
now,” Essie said. She folded the rag that covered the tiny creatures and placed
it in the box as a liner. Then she picked up the tiny objects one by one and
placed them in a row upon the cloth. She rose slowly and showed the box to
Mabel who simply nodded.
Holding the box in front of her,
Essie started walking to a copse of trees just beyond the edge of the front
yard, in the direction from which the car had appeared. As they moved from the clearing, the trees made shadows cross
their forms and then they were in the cool darkness out of sight from the
house.
Essie began to sing as they walked,
and after a few more steps, Mabel began to sway with the music. Now Essie did
the same, still holding the matchbox coffin before her as they walked farther
into the cool, dark woods.
“Five
foot two…
Eyes
of blue…”
