Polishing Jade

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

    October turned into November and Daddy was laid off from the mill shortly after Thanksgiving. Winter was sneaking up on us and a chill blew all around us.  Construction is always slowed by the winter’s rainy weather.  Not much call for lumber meant less work at the mill.

     I had begun to notice Daddy couldn’t hurt Mama anymore, because Mama couldn’t feel anything.  She was as numb as a paraplegic.  Only it wasn’t on the outside.  It was the inside that she had lost sensation.  It seemed that last burst of hope on that night when she told the story about polishing the gem stones, was gone now, completely.  It almost seemed that not only could my mama feel no pain, but she couldn’t feel anything else either, not even love.  She became hollow, like a tree that termites had eaten away.  The empty shell walked around  portraying a bent trunk and crooked limbs.  Daily chores were done only to benefit Johnny and me and to keep the peace with Daddy.  Her eyes became lifeless, staring into space at nothing in particular.

    My daddy started making rocking chairs to sell that winter.  He’d finish three or four and haul them in the bed of his old pickup truck to Taylors General store.  Most the time they didn’t sell, but were used by the farmers to take a load off or play a quick game of checkers.  The men folk would sit in their bib overalls conversing on the weather and the best time for planting.  They discussed the economy and political issues.  Sometimes they’d eat pickled eggs, gnaw on beef jerky or chew tobacco.

    Mr. Thomas Taylor had owned the store for as long as I could remember.  He lived in a small apartment above the store with his wife Miss Rita, who never was able to bare children.  Miss Rita made quilts and homemade jams to sell in the store, which sold just about as well as Daddy’s chairs.  She was a talker, if you know what I mean, and if she hadn’t heard any gossip for the day, she’d create her own stories to tell.

     Miss Rita was a pear shaped woman with a tiny waist that blossomed into a large bottom.  This vast behind was attached to thunder thighs that made it hard for her to navigate the crowded aisles of the store.  Mr. Thomas was a slow talker who never got to finish a sentence if Miss Rita was around.

    “They had to shoot one of them Coyotes up on Pioneers Ridge last…”

    “Now, Taylor, you know good and well it was two Coyotes, and we ain’t seen the last of them.” Miss Rita had her hand on her tiny waist and her hip stuck out as she talked.  “Taylor, never mind the fact that Lois lost a calf last week to them coyotes.”

    As soon as Taylor threw back his hand to disagree, she started on something else.

     I had always loved going to the store when I was younger because Miss Rita would just dote over me.  “Well, if it isn’t lil Miss Jade!  Look at those sea green eyes!  Open your hands up and let your ole’ Aunt Rita give you treats!”  Then she would fill my pudgy hands with her homemade fudge.  I think she was good hearted, just empty from never having her own children to love.

    Now that I was sixteen boys were taking a notice, going to the store had become an adventure.  I first met Dillon on a Saturday morning when Mama had run out of flour for biscuits.  He worked there at the store on weekends, stocking shelves, sweeping and cleaning aisles.  One thing Dillon never could be found doing was running the register or handling the money.  Reasons behind that I guess, was his skin.  He was what Mama called colored.   Daddy on the other hand said ‘nigger’.  Mama had taught me that this was an ugly word and I should not say it because it hurt the colored people’s feelings.  I hated when my own daddy used the word.  I couldn’t understand why he did.  I loathed that word that seemed to be filled with hatred and intense ignorance.  When I looked at Dillon, I just saw Dillon.

     I felt some anger over Mr. Thomas and Miss Rita’s decision to keep him from the handling of their precious money and stereotyping him because of his skin color.  I guess the Taylors felt they were doing him a favor just by giving him a job, and the majority of folks in town seemed to think their status as “white” made them above Dillon and his family.  He was a soft brown, not near as dark as most.  There had been talk in the town of an affair between his mother and Judge Barrels.  Some folks said that this explained the lightness of Dillon’s skin and the reason behind his job at Taylor’s store.

     I didn’t care about any of the town gossip, but had secretly taken a liking to seeing him at any opportunity.  Dillon had eyes the color of caramel and when I looked into them, I could see clear down to his soul.  He had a warm smile that showed teeth so white and so straight they looked almost false.  I’d lay in bed at night thinking about his hand in mine; the warm chocolate hand and the pale cream colored hand entwined.  I thought about his full lips brushing my thin mouth.  I thought and I thought, but knew deep down Daddy and everyone else in town would never stand for it with their small minds.  I felt like there were too many mountains to cast down.  I had run to the top and spoken with all the faith I could muster, now I would just have to wait.