{"id":111,"date":"2016-08-13T19:24:09","date_gmt":"2016-08-13T19:24:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.altonfletcher.com\/?p=111"},"modified":"2016-08-15T14:07:52","modified_gmt":"2016-08-15T14:07:52","slug":"the-white-eye","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.altonfletcher.com\/index.php\/2016\/08\/13\/the-white-eye\/","title":{"rendered":"The White Eye"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"maxresdefault\"<\/a>A ride in his grandfather\u2019s car always proved to be an adventure. He never knew quite where they might end up. Maybe just an errand. Sometimes a stop, or two, along the way to talk with friends or clients. A trip to the levee just to see how the river flowed. An ice-cold Coke or an ice-cream cone somewhere along the way.<\/p>\n

He sat in the front seat of the Oldsmobile, the latest model, plush seats, electric windows, and fully equipped, including air-conditioning, perhaps the greatest luxury of all, especially on this hot, humid summer afternoon in late August. Away up north, where he lived, far from this small delta town along the Mississippi River, most cars had no air-conditioners. The only relief from summer heat back home would have been to roll down the rear window of the station wagon, the seat facing backwards, his usual place when his family traveled.<\/p>\n

Today was different, somehow. His grandfather had not said where they were going. The boy glanced at his face and tried to guess, but could read nothing in the calm, deliberate features. His grandfather\u2019s slight smile gave away little, since it usually graced his lips, except when he spoke of injustice or unrest in the world. Then it would become a thin, weary frown, and the corners of his mouth would draw in a sharp tisk of disapproval.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere are we going, Grandad?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll see. We\u2019re almost there.\u201d<\/p>\n

The town spanned only about ten or twelve\u00a0blocks from one end to the other, at least in their part of it. But, the car had driven beyond the street where they often would have turned to drive to the lake or the country club for a swim on unbearably hot afternoons, like this one. Instead, they turned at the next corner to go in the opposite direction, down a street lined with ramshackle houses and unpainted shanties with bowed roofs.<\/p>\n

He peered out the car window, his eyes just barely above the door. After a few blocks, they passed a corner market, where a few men stood out front, glaring at the large, blue car as they drove by, warily trying to see inside.<\/p>\n

His grandfather turned the car at the next corner, and soon pulled up in front of a long, low, one-story building. Much of the white paint on the siding had peeled away. Out front, a sign swinging from the porch overhang above the steps read, \u201cStill Waters Home for the Aged.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at his grandfather, who shut off the engine.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re here. Let\u2019s go on in.\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy opened the passenger door, stepped onto the street, and heaved the door shut. The heat bore down on his shoulders. His grandfather strode around the front of the car, and they walked together up the wooden stairs to the open porch. A few men, as old as any the boy had ever seen, sat in rocking chairs on the porch, and they rocked to a standstill, as he and his grandfather opened the screen door and walked inside.<\/p>\n

The door opened into a wide hallway, which stretched through the middle of the building to the open back door. A reception desk occupied most of the center of the hallway, with room to pass through on the left. On either side of the hall, a set of large doors mirrored each other. Above the door on the right hung a sign labeled \u201cWOMEN,\u201d and on the left, \u201cMEN.\u201d Beyond the reception desk, another set of doors exactly matched the others.<\/p>\n

His grandfather approached the desk. A caged fan oscillated with an occasional rattle on a shelf above the desk. A small, turquoise transistor radio, its cover taped together, played blues quietly to one side. The singer\u2019s raw, plaintive voice desired a paradise with nothing to do.<\/p>\n

The receptionist, a broad-shouldered woman in a blue flower print dress, her glossed hair flipped up at the ends, looked up and greeted them with a smile. A young boy with close-cropped hair, dressed in shorts and an open-collar green checkered shirt, stood beside her behind the desk. The two boys eyed each other, the way foreigners do, but neither spoke.<\/p>\n

\u201cAfternoon, Mr. Walter. It\u2019s a hot one, ain\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt certainly is, Miz Annabelle. This, too, will pass.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo right. So right. Can I help y\u2019all?\u201d she asked, with an expression nearing gratitude.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe came to see Melvin Brown.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYessir, Mr. Walter. You\u2019ll find him as usual, all the way to the far wall on the right side.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank-you, Miz Annabelle.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd, who is this young man you bringed with you today, may I ask?<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is my grandson, Will.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, hello, Will.\u201d She turned to the boy standing at her side. \u201cSammy Lee, say hey to Will,\u201d she prodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey,\u201d the boy replied.<\/p>\n

His grandfather placed a hand on his shoulder, and turned him toward the door to the men\u2019s ward. The boy turned the knob and opened the door, and they entered a large, open room with canvas partitions, which separated the beds lining the walls on either side and across the back. Two ceiling fans whirred overhead, stirring the air, but providing little relief from the heat and humidity. The windows on either side of the room were propped open, but not a whisper of a breeze came through them.<\/p>\n

They walked toward the back of the room, and approached one of the cots at the far right corner. An old man, withered and frail, watched them come nearer, as he lay in the bed, his head resting on a pillow, its blue striped cotton ticking stained with sweat. His dark eyes glistened, and he raised himself to his left elbow.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, hey, Mr. Walter. So good to see you, sir,\u201d his voice rasped.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you, Melvin.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cY\u2019all is too kind to stop by on such a day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot at all. Came to see how you\u2019ve been coming along.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m doin\u2019 all right. All right, I guess.\u201d He brushed a fly from his face. \u201cThe doc said he had to take my foot, \u2018count of my sugar.\u201d He pointed toward the foot of the bed. The form of his remaining\u00a0foot raised beneath the cotton sheet.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m so sorry to hear it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMatter of time. Just so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI want you to meet my grandson, Will.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMos\u2019 pleased to meet you, young man.\u201d He stretched out his bony right hand.<\/p>\n

Will shook his hand. It felt like leather. He had never before shaken a black man\u2019s hand. Ever.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood to meet you, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour grandpappy and I go way back. \u2018Bout thirty, forty year, I reckon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMelvin and I picked cotton together, once upon a time, back when we were both young.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYour grandpappy could pick nigh two hund\u2019ed pounds a day, once he got ta goin\u2019.\u201d Melvin winked.<\/p>\n

\u201cHard times. Had to eat somehow.\u201d His grandfather smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, Mr. Tip, he had his eye on you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing much Mr. Tip Misner didn\u2019t see.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSome things he noticed more\u2019n others, I\u2019d say. People, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ll never have to pick no cotton, mos\u2019 like.\u201d Melvin eyed Will.<\/p>\n

\u201cProb\u2019ly not.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHard work. But, nothin\u2019 wrong with that. Everbody ought to know what hard work is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell \u2026 I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n

Melvin glanced sidelong at Will. \u201cYou know what the white-eye is, Will?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUh-uhn.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhite-eye is when a man is played out, after workin\u2019 a long day in the field. His eyes sets back in his haid, and his eyelids sag down, an\u2019 all you can see is the whites.\u201d His weary eyes mimicked his words. \u201cYou ever been that tired?\u201d<\/p>\n

Will smiled and shrugged. \u201cGuess not.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMos\u2019 folks hadn\u2019t. Not today. Everthang\u2019s done for \u2018em. You grandpappy knows. He never took nothin\u2019 from nobody that he didn\u2019t earn. He done made somethin\u2019 of hisself. You can learn a lot from a man like him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe didn\u2019t come here to talk about me, now, Melvin,\u201d said Walter. \u201cWe came to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you seen me. Such as I am. No good to nobody. I \u2018spect that they be takin\u2019 other parts of me sooner or later. Little by little. Like an ol\u2019 gingerbread man. Jus\u2019 gobbled up. You know that story, Will?\u201d<\/p>\n

The boy nodded. He eyed the place where the missing foot should have been, and looked away.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs there anything you need? Anything we can get you?\u201d asked Walter.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe good Lawd takes care of all my needs. Yessir. I don\u2019t lack a single thing. Thank you, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you sure?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYessir. Won\u2019t be long now, I \u2018spect. I won\u2019t have no needs at all.\u201d He smiled wearily, and laid his head back on the pillow. \u201cBut, don\u2019t y\u2019all worry none \u2018bout me. Dyin\u2019 is the last thing I\u2019ll ever do.\u201d<\/p>\n

Will peered up at his grandfather, who stood nearly half again as tall. A slow, wry smile spread across his face, as he shook his head. Will noticed, not for the first time, the deep sun-weathered creases on the back of his neck.<\/p>\n

\u201cBout got the white-eye now,\u201d said Melvin, quietly.<\/p>\n

They rode away in silence. Instead of going home, his grandfather took Highway 65\u00a0out of town, driving north along the lake. After a few miles, he turned left onto\u00a0a gravel side road, flat and straight, and drove through the fields, white with cotton. A cloud of dust followed the car.<\/p>\n

\u201cHard work is good. Work like that can come nigh to break a man. Especially when he has no choice,\u201d was all he said. His smile had turned to a thin, weary frown.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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