“Because you ripped us off! You are fuckin with our work!”
“You’re wrong. Dead wrong.”
“The ‘dead’ part is you.”
Milkman looked down at the cookie in his hand. It looked foolish and he started to throw it away, but changed his mind. “So my Day has come?”
“Your Day has come, but on
“Tell me something. When you saw me in the station, with the crate, why did you back off and hide? Why didn’t you just walk up to me? It could have been settled there.”
“I told you. I had this funny funny feeling.”
“That I was going to cut you out?”
“Cut us out. Yes.”
“And you believe I did?”
“Yes.”
“Back there in the woods you were angry.”
“Yes.”
“Now you’re going to wait till the gold comes.”
“Yes.”
“And I pick it up.”
“You won’t be able to pick it up.”
“Do me a favor. When it gets here. Check it first to see if there’s gold in it.”
“First?”
“Or last. But before you haul it all the way back home.”
“Don’t worry yourself about it.”
“One more thing. Why the message? Why’d you warn me with a message at the store?”
“You’re my friend. It’s the least I could do for a friend.”
“My man. I want to thank you.”
“You’re welcome, baby.”
Milkman slipped into Sweet’s bed and slept the night in her perfect arms. It was a warm dreamy sleep all about flying, about sailing high over the earth. But not with arms stretched out like airplane wings, nor shot forward like Superman in a horizontal dive, but floating, cruising, in the relaxed position of a man lying on a couch reading a newspaper. Part of his flight was over the dark sea, but it didn’t frighten him because he knew he could not fall. He was alone in the sky, but somebody was applauding him, watching him and applauding. He couldn’t see who it was.
When he awoke the next morning and set about seeing to the repair of his car, he couldn’t shake the dream, and didn’t really want to. In Solomon’s store he found Omar and Solomon shaking sacks of okra into peck baskets and he still felt the sense of lightness and power that flying had given him.
“Got a belt for your car,” said Omar. “Ain’t new, but it ought to fit.”
“Hey, that’s good. Thanks, Omar.”
“You leavin us right away?”
“Yeah, I have to get on back.”
“You see that Byrd woman all right?”
“Yeah, I saw her.”
“She help you any?” Omar wiped the okra fuzz from his hands onto his trousers.
“No. Not much.”
“Well, King Walker say he be down this morning and put the belt on. You probably ought to get a good checkup on that car once you get on the road.”
“I plan to.”
“Sweet give you any breakfast?” asked Solomon.
“She tried, but I wanted to get over here early to see about the car.”
“What about a cup a coffee; there’s a full pot in back.”
“No, thanks. I think I’ll walk around a little till he comes.”
It was six-thirty in the morning and the town was bustling as though it were high noon. Life and business began early in the South so the coolest part of the day could be taken advantage of. People had already eaten, women had already washed clothes and were spreading them on bushes, and in a few days, when the school in the next town opened, children at this hour would already be walking, running over the roads and fields to class. Now they were sauntering about, doing chores, teasing cats, throwing bread to stray chickens, and some of them were playing their endless round games. Milkman could hear them singing and wandered off toward them and the huge cedar
