Free Magic City by Jewell Parker Rhodes Page B

tight. “They hauled David to Martin’s field. Seems like everybody white was there. Women with picnic lunches. Children too.”
    He went on relentless: “They handcuffed David and chained his legs so he couldn’t escape. They broke every bone in his arms and legs. Steel-toed boots. Baseball bats. They took their time over his hands. One of the carpenters, non-union, mind you, used a hammer. Then they lynched him. Didn’t quite snap his neck though. They wanted him alive when he burned. Didn’t take long for David to die. Bursting into flame in the bright light of day. Everybody packed up. Singing songs. Swapping recipes. Talking about what work needed to get done tomorrow. They left his bones and ash for the dogs.”
    Lying Man paused. The men pitched forward, waiting for his final words.
    â€œIf they’d do that to a white man, think what they’d do to you.”
    â€œLawd, Lawd,” Ernie exhaled. “Lawd, Lawd.”
    Joe saw himself burning inside Lying Man’s irises . “Naw,” Joe breathed. He jerked his hands and turned to escape. The copper bell jangled.
    Joe saw his dead brother leaning against the lamppost outside, beckoning .
    Stunned, Joe stepped back into the shop, shutting the door. He would’ve slid to the floor if Lying Man hadn’t grabbed him.
    â€œIt’s all right. Gonna be all right,” Lying Man whispered, steadying him.
    Joe thought he was crazy. Clear as day he’d seen Henry, just like he’d never gone to war. Never died .
    â€œYou all right, Joe?” asked Gabe.
    â€œStand for me. You’ve got to stand,” said Lying Man.
    â€œI can stand.” Joe peered out the window, but Henry was nowhere to be seen. His brow touched the glass. Ernie cleared his throat, pounded his pipe on his checkerboard. “Joe and Gabe! Y’all some sorry looking folk.”
    â€œFell down in an outhouse, did you?” asked rheumy-eyed Herb.
    â€œI had a cousin did that once. Never found him since.”
    â€œErnie, if you was my cousin,” said Herb, “I’d choose the outhouse too.”
    The barbershop exploded in laughter. Lying Man went back to shaving Nate.
    Joe was caught off-guard by the change. The story was over. Men were playing cards again, reading magazines, trading jokes. Hair was being trimmed. Everything was normal. Like nothing had happened. He swallowed. “Me and Gabe, we were fighting.”
    â€œGabe? You mean to tell me this boy whipped you,” demanded Ernie.
    â€œAin’t a boy no more,” said Gabe. “Couple days, Joe be eighteen.”
    â€œGo on. You lie,” said Sandy, another old man.
    â€œHenry’s baby brother?”
    â€œIn that case, give this man a drink,” said Sandy. “Tater, get a red cherry pop. I’ll buy.” Tater, feeble-minded, quit sweeping loose hairs and shuffled back to the cooler.
    â€œBet he be wanting a different kind of cherry to celebrate,” said Chalmers, a veteran who clerked in the dry goods store. The men laughed uproariously.
    Joe turned back to the window.
    â€œI got black cherry,” hollered Tater from the back.
    â€œBest kind,” said Ernie. “Sure ’nough. You know what they say. The blacker the berry—”
    â€œThe sweeter the juice,” laughed Herb.
    Joe slid his palms across the bay window. During the war, he’d spent his Saturdays in the barbershop. Heat would spill from the window while he listened to the old men’s playful banter:
    â€œRemember when Charles’ cow thought it was a bull? Silly animal was humping everything.”
    â€œRemember when Wylie got the clap? His wife hit him with her frying pan. Knocked him cold for two days.”
    â€œRemember Henry sweet talking that gal with the big legs?”
    â€œRamona, was it?”
    â€œHeard she was waiting for Henry to come home from the war. Says she’s going to marry