Free All-Bright Court by Connie Rose Porter

not back.”
    â€œWell, I’ll take you on in and you can turn on the lights and wait for her.”
    â€œWe don’t got no electric. Mama say we going get it back on when she get her check.”
    Mr. Taylor let out a big blast of white steam through his nose. He did not know what to do, so he brought the boy back home with him.
    â€œYou just couldn’t leave him there,” Mrs. Taylor said. “He just a baby.”
    â€œI don’t know about all that. I don’t want to get in no trouble keeping him here, Mary Kate.”
    â€œMy mama don’t care,” Dennis said.
    Mr. Taylor let out a blow like he did outside. “I just didn’t know what to do. I guess he can stay. I’m tired now, Kate. I’m pulling that double tomorrow. Just put him to bed,” Mr. Taylor said, and he went upstairs.
    Mrs. Taylor ran a bath for Dennis and told him to get in the tub. When she returned to the bathroom a few minutes later, Dennis was playing in the water, and his pants, shirt, and socks were on the floor. They all smelled of urine.
    â€œWhere your underclothes?”
    â€œI don’t got none clean.”
    â€œHand me that rag, boy. I’m going to bathe you ’cause you not doing nothing but playing.”
    â€œMy mama let me wash myself.”
    â€œIt seem your mama let you do a lot of things,” Mrs. Taylor said, and she descended on Dennis with the rough white cloth. “Stand up.”
    Dennis stood while Mrs. Taylor scrubbed every inch of his body. “You a dirty boy,” she said. “Stand right there while I get some alcohol.”
    She went to the hall closet while Dennis stood shaking in the tub. Where was it Mrs. Taylor thought he would go?
    She returned and poured half the bottle over his body and the other half in the tub. She continued to wash the boy and talk to him. “Look at this. Look at this.” Dennis looked. It was dirt. He did not know if he was supposed to say something.
    After the bath, Mrs. Taylor rubbed Vaseline into his cold, raw skin. She dressed him in a pair of Mikey’s pajamas and put him to bed. In the morning she made fried eggs, grits with redeye gravy, and buttered toast with grape jelly. She dressed Dennis, Mikey, and Dorene, and they walked to Dennis’s house.
    On the way, she rehearsed her speech: What kind of mother is you? Leaving a boy alone. Your child hungry and dirty. You send him out with no drawers on. What if something happen to him? What people going to think? You should . . .
    Dennis led them to the front door. It was closed. “My mama home.”
    She was lying on the couch, sleeping. She opened her eyes. Mrs. Taylor thought she looked like a lizard in a dress. Her eyes were yellow, and the skin on her thin legs was dry and cracked. Her short, reddish hair was standing straight up on her head.
    â€œI’m home, Mama.”
    â€œWhere you was at?”
    â€œMike’s house. This here his mama,” Dennis said, gently pushing Mrs. Taylor closer to the couch.
    â€œHey,” the woman said. “Dennis, go get me some water. You want some water, some water . . . What your name?”
    â€œMary Kate.”
    â€œI’m Cynthia. Want some water?”
    â€œNo, I got to be going. I got some wash to do,” Mary Kate said, and began backing toward the door, Dorene on her hip. “Let’s go, children.”
    She saved her speech for Samuel. He was so tired that he only half listened.
    â€œYou can’t save the world, Kate,” he said.
    Dennis continued to come around. Sometimes he would show up three or four days in a row, and sometimes a week or more would pass without his coming by. The last time he had come, the Taylors were on their way to the circus in Buffalo.
    â€œGo home,” Mr. Taylor had told him. “You ain’t going to the circus with us.”
    Mikey’s father did not understand. He and Dennis were going to be bareback riders.