The Planet of Junior Brown (3 page)

They saw a rat move boldly. It was big and hungry, with hair almost black. Swiftly Buddy aimed and threw a stone all in one sure motion. The stone grazed the rat.

“He ain't going to move. He thinking about fightin' back,” Junior said.

Buddy hurled three stones in succession; one whucked sickeningly against the rat's side. The rat's hindquarters quivered; then it moved off under rocks.

Once at 79th and Broadway, Junior would have to go one block down to 78th Street and one block east to Amsterdam Avenue. Behind his eyes, those streets were blown clean by cold wind. Apartment-house lobbies on 78th would be free of the usual scarred tables in anticipation of holiday decoration.

He could take a subway at 96th and Broadway and be down at 79th Street in less than fifteen minutes. Even though he was slow, he knew he could make that block from 79th to 78th Street and the one block over to Amsterdam in five, seven minutes.

Be there thirty minutes early, Junior thought. I don't know what I'll do if she won't let me play. I should of told Mama about it. Shuh, Mama wouldn't of believed me—how you going to tell her something like what's been happening? She'd think I was just trying to get out of the lessons.

Buddy sat hunched over, freezing. He imagined his face turning ashen with cold. His toes were numb and his nose had started running. The moisture in his nostrils crystallized, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. Buddy made himself sit silently so he could watch Junior with the least amount of physical pain to himself.

All sorts of moods played over Junior's face and all of them upset Buddy. Buddy could tell that Junior was still carrying on to himself. There had been a time when all of Junior's thoughts had been open to Buddy.

“We might take us a bus,” Buddy said, in a bursting loud rush right in Junior's ear. “We early for your lesson.”

“You can't come in with me!” Junior was shouting. “You know you can't so why you keep on following me?”

“One of these times I'm going to leave you by yourself and see how you like it,” Buddy told him.

“Like it fine,” Junior said. “Maybe then I can have some peace in my brains.”

They both fell silent. There were two rats at the water line off to their left but neither of them bothered to stone them. Buddy was ashamed at feeling hurt that Junior didn't want him around. He knew he was getting on Junior's nerves. Lately he had stuck with Junior from the time Junior came out of his apartment house in the morning to the time he went back in at night. Buddy let Junior go into his house alone because Junior's mother didn't want her fat son to associate with him. And Buddy let Junior go alone from 78th Street and on into Miss Peebs' house on Amsterdam to take his piano lesson each and every Friday.

Buddy Clark had known Junior's mother long enough and well enough to understand that she wasn't the cause of the change in Junior. Junior Brown's mother was as out of her head anxious as all the other women in the neighborhood whose husbands had gone away. Only, Junior's father had a good job over in Jersey. But just like the other women, Junior's mother had all the time she needed to get her insides confused and to make the life of her favorite child over to suit herself. In Junella Brown's case, it was her only child.

Maybe she is sickly, the way she likes to say, thought Buddy. She still uses that asthma of hers to keep Junior as close to home as she can.

He got himself a piano in his very own room, Buddy went on to himself. He got books and a raincoat. He even gets rolls of canvas and paints to draw with. And still he says he'd just as soon have nothing if he could have his daddy come home every night and be there every morning. He lucky he got a “daddy” at all, but he don't know
nothing
.

Mrs. Junella Brown bothered Junior into going out to restaurants and to uplifting plays.

Buddy shot a quick glance to the center of the river. A few chunks of ice floated easily along. They seemed rounded, perhaps melting. Buddy hunched his shoulders and clenched his frozen fists, hoping for a thaw.

“I saw you and your maw going out last night,” he said. Upriver there was more ice.

“Trying to be some kind of detective,” Junior told him. “Join up with the Force and they'll get you a badge with Captain Oink written over it.”

“I happened to be coming down the street,” Buddy said. “When I see you all coming out, I ducked myself into the building across the way.”

“Duck yourself, nothing,” Junior said. “You standing there hiding and waiting.”

Buddy decided he'd better get on with it. He had been waiting across the street from Junior's house. He didn't know why, or what he hoped to see. His nights were always too long. He could go to what he called home, but he only went there to leave something or to pick something up. Usually he ended up somewhere near the building where Junior lived.

His story was that here in the city his mama was actually his aunt. Buddy's real mama was still in East Texas with the rest of the kids. She was trying to save to get the rest of the kids and herself up here. Buddy kept on telling her to stay where she was. There wasn't nothing up here but trash and terror, he wrote her. And his aunt, who was his mother's sister, kept hounding him to quit school. Grow up, she told him. Go work in the garment district and do something for your helpless mother.

Buddy smiled. In his head, he had this long conversation with this person who was his aunt, all about how he loved school and how he was going to go on to college.

Maybe I will go to college, he thought. Maybe some billionaire will give me ten dollars a minute and a gold pot to keep it in too.

This was his story known to Junior and to Mr. Pool. The truth was, Buddy was by himself.

“You and your maw go to some kind of Broadway play last night?” Buddy said.

Junior took his time about answering. He finally said, “We went us to Weight Watchers. I bet you haven't ever heard of the Weight Watchers.”

“I heard,” Buddy said, evenly, although the idea surprised him. “What did they make you do?”

“Make me do nothing,” Junior told him. “They stared at me a lot and I didn't like that one bit.”

“What kind of else did they do?” Buddy asked him.

“They talked a lot about celery and raw mushrooms.”

“Gawd,” Buddy said.

“They seem to think pretty highly of broiled fish.”

“Nobody eat that stuff,” Buddy said.

“Then one lady, she say maybe how I abuse my body because I didn't much care for my black skin.” Junior laughed softly to himself, his fat shaking and rolling under his shirt. “Ole white lady,” he added. “She had on this red coat and this red fur hat. She had real orange hair and she was wearing a shiny brown dress. She wasn't bad, but she was pretty plump herself.”

“Might be some truth in what she saying,” Buddy said. “I mean, eating so much because you so black.”

“Shuh,” Junior said. “You're black but you don't eat the way I do. I seen some white folks just as fat as me. And anyway, black is beautiful.” He had to laugh.

“Did they put you on some diet?” Buddy said.

“Say Mama have to cook me a little bitty this without no oil,” Junior told him, “and a little bitty that without no butter or no flour or no nothing.”

“She'll do it, too,” Buddy said.

“Hush off my mother,” Junior said. “She sickly.”

Sickly like a night tripper, like a fox. Buddy didn't say what he had been thinking. Right then he decided it wasn't Junior's mother or the Weight Watchers or the black of Junior's skin that was causing him to be so nervous and full of secrets. There was only one change in Junior's life and that was Miss Peebs.

Buddy had a sudden memory of a nicer time. Junior had taken piano lessons from the age of five. He had known Miss Peebs for six months. Over the summer, somebody Miss Peebs knew managed to get Junior on the stage in a concert at Central Park. Buddy had been thrilled to see his friend up there at the piano in the bandshell, with all the people from all over stopping their strolls to sit and listen. It was the most exciting thing Buddy had ever seen. Big, fat and black Junior Brown playing classical music—even Buddy had to admit the music sounded fine—and then getting all that applause when he was finished. And then Junior coming down off that stage to sit right next to Buddy. That had been the best part of all. Buddy recalled he had met that Miss Peebs but she had been just some lady. She hadn't seemed important and he didn't remember much about her. But now Junior had something worrying him, something he couldn't tell Buddy.

Junior sat there by the water worrying about Buddy asking him so many questions. He was afraid he might talk too much. He wanted to talk now. If he only could talk, but how could he say anything?

Junior got up, moving in a crouch. Holding onto boulders when he could, he made his way up the rocks toward the iron fence.

“You leaving now?” Buddy called after him. The sky had changed, shading into gray before it would turn into night. Buddy followed Junior, holding back his strength and easy movement to give the fat boy room.

He had all kinds of ideas about Junior and that Miss Peebs, whom he'd only once seen. He was a champ. He knew everything the street could teach him.

Buddy stared after the grunting form of Junior Brown. No matter how completely Junior had changed into someone nervous and frustrated, he was still the shyest, most innocent boy Buddy had ever known.

“
Junior, you're trying to give up on one more thing
.” Junior's mother reached into Junior's mind and tried to take it over. Her sudden presence caused Junior to slip on the rocks and fall to his knees.

Junior groaned and sat down, rubbing his shinbone.

“
Do you want me to believe you haven't the courage to face your talent?
”

“
Mama, why you always have to bust in on me?
” Junior's head throbbed as he realized the mama of his mind believed he was afraid to take his lesson.

Buddy scrambled over the rocks and tried to get Junior to his feet. “Are you hurt?” he said. “Looky, you gone and tore your pants at the knee.” Buddy tried to lift Junior under the arms. Big and strong, he still couldn't budge Junior. “Come on, get up,” Buddy said. “We can take us a bus right on Riverside Drive and you won't have to walk so far.”

“
Don't you dare to get on a bus!
” Junior's mother let loose her fear. “
You'll never get there if you get on a bus!
”

Junior's shoulders were wrenched once in a sob and then were still. He bowed his head, trying to think. The voice bursting in on him at any time had weakened his nerve. He was on the verge of blurting something about Miss Peebs, so he started talking as fast as he could.

Buddy sat down in front of Junior, stunned by Junior's stream of words.

“Seven-thirty,” Junior said. “We were all finished with the Weight Watchers. I promised Mama I would come back again. I had to do that. They were all waiting for me to say how I would lose ten pounds by next week and come back to lose some more. You know how I can't stop eating once I get started. I just can't keep from it. I get out of bed and I don't even know it. I'm at the refrigerator and I don't even realize. I eat it all up, everything. I cook the eggs, bacon—and it's like I'm thinking about something miles away and I don't know. I never remember I shouldn't be eating until it's too late.

“We left the Weight Watchers and Mama kept on saying how nice everybody had been. She still think they gonna lynch you if you go downtown too far.”

“She halfway right, too,” Buddy couldn't help saying.

“Anyway,” Junior said, “she got started on how we ought to get out of our black world more. With Daddy gone all week, we are getting to be like hermits, was what she told me. I didn't say nothing because I was hungry and I just wanted us to get on home. And then Mama took this envelope out of her pocketbook. She say to me, ‘Junior, look here what I have for us. We are going out tonight.' Right then I began to sweat because in the envelope she had two tickets for a concert at the big Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts. Mama say to me, ‘Junior, it is a modern dance concert we are going to see.'

“And I say to her, ‘Mama, please, just let me go on home. I got to get me some rest. Please, these Weight Watchers have got me all upset.'

“Mama, she say, ‘Junior, you are not going to hide out in your room. You have nothing to be ashamed of. A little overgrown you may well be but, Junior, you are
talented
and you will not hide!'

“I was wearing my gray suit and my raincoat. Mama, she had on a black dress and that black coat she has with the fur at the collar. She even had her medicine with her. We both looked all right but once we were practically there,” said Junior, “I got to thinking that everybody would stare at us. By the time we were in the lobby, it looked to me like everybody was shrinking away from me. You know, like they were trying to keep from looking at my fat. And Mama, she looked like she wasn't sure of what she was doing. Even she started to shrink away.

“And then I had a hard time fitting into my seat,” Junior said. “I started wheezing, the way Mama does when she's sick. It took all I had just to sit still in my suit and that raincoat, with Mama whispering at me to control my breath.

“The curtain went up and we saw this program of dance groups. Or maybe it was just one group—how can you tell when they melt away and come back again? All I could see was a lot of thin people jumping and falling. I thought I couldn't breathe and there was this white lady next to me all full of awful-sweet powder. By the end of the show, I was soaking wet and I got to shaking like some wino.”

The whole time Junior talked, Buddy sat before him. His eyes never left Junior's face. One moment, Buddy wrung his hands and the next, he stuffed them deep in his pockets. All his own tough coolness slipped away as he came to understand the awful ugliness Junior felt about himself. Sitting there listening and watching, Buddy could be, for a few seconds at a time, Junior Brown wanting to hide himself from the whole world.