and I do hope pore ol' Miz Hauck ain't too disappointed.'
'Yeah,' I said. 'I sure hope she ain't either.'
But I had an idea she was going to be.
12
The way I'd met Myra was at the state fair a few years ago. I was all dressed up like I always am when I go someplace, and even a god-danged fool could see I was doing plenty all right. Anyway, I reckon Myra seen it. And she didn't look so bad herself then; she'd gone to some pains to pretty herself up. And I didn't fight too hard when she latched herself onto me.
It was at this place where you throw balls at a colored fella's head, and if you hit him you won a prize. I was just doin' it because the fella that ran the place kept asking me to. It had seemed unobliging not to, but I sure didn't want to hit this colored man and I didn't. But I heard someone clapping her hands, and here was Myra, carrying on like I was the world's greatest pitcher.
'Oooh, I just don't see how you do it!' she said, simpering up at me. 'Would you throw some balls for me, please, if I give you the money?'
'Well, I'd kind of rather not, ma'am,' I said. 'If you don't mind excusin' me, I was just quitting myself.'
'Oh,' she said, kind of letting her face sag, which didn't require much of an effort if you know what I mean. 'I understand. Your wife is with you.'
'Naw, that ain't it,' I said. 'I ain't married, ma'am; I just don't want to throw at that colored fella, because it don't seem right somehow. It ain't rightly decent, you might say.'
'You're just saying that,' she pouted and simpered. 'It's your way of rebuking me for being forward.'
I said, naw, that wasn't it at all; I really felt like I said I did. 'I guess it's his job to get throwed at, but it ain't mine to do the throwin',' I said. 'Anyways, a fella'd be better off without a job than one like this. If he's got to get hit to live, he ain't got nothing worth living for.'
Myra put on a solemn face, and said she could see I was a really deep thinker. I said, well, I didn't know about that, but I was sure a thirsty one.
'Maybe! could offer you a lemonade, ma'am, seem' as how I can't favor you by throwing balls.'
'Well… 'She twisted and twitched and twittered. 'You won't think I'm terribly forward if I say yes?'
'Why, you just said it, ma'am,' I said, leading her toward the pink lemonade stand. 'You just said yes, and I don't think nothing like that at all.'
And sure enough I didn't.
What I was thinking was that she must have buggers in her bloomers or a chigger on her figger, or however you say it. It looked to me like something had better be done about it pretty quick, or her pants would start blazing and maybe they'd set the fairgrounds on fire and there'd be a panic with thousands of people getting stomped to death, not to mention the property damage. And I couldn't think of but one way to prevent it.
Well, though, I didn't want to rush into things. There just wasn't any need to rush, as far as I was concerned, because I was getting married to Amy the next week and she'd taken good care to provide for me until then. So I stalled around, trying to decide whether I really ought to do the only thing I could think of to do. You might say it really wasn't my problem if Myra did set the fairgrounds on fire, with thousands of innocent women and children getting killed. Because! was from out of town, and I'm a great believer in local rights-you know, like State rights- and Myra lived here in the city. Could be I might get into all kinds of trouble by interfering in a local problem, even if it was something that even a goddanged fool would be familiar with, and the local folks weren't doing nothing about it.
I took Myra to a few side shows, standing close to her while I tried to make up my mind. I took her on the merry-go-round and some other rides, helping her on and off and looking at her when her dress slid up, and so on and so forth. And god-dang if it wasn't long before I came to my decision.
Myra looked shocked when I whispered to her, almost as shocked as if I'd bought her a sack of popcorn.
'Why-why, I just wouldn't think of it!' She twisted and twitched. 'The very idea, going to a hotel with a strange man!'
'But I ain't strange,' I said, giving her a pinch. 'I'm built just like the rest of 'em.'
'Oh, you awful thing, you!' she giggled. 'You're just terrible!'
'Why, I ain't neither terrible,' I said. 'Anyways, it ain't fair to say I am without more knowledge on the subject.'
She giggled and blushed, and said she just couldn't go to a hotel. 'I just couldn't! I really couldn't.'
'Well, if you can't you can't,' I said, getting a little tired of it all. 'Far be it from me to urge you.'
'But-but we could go to my rooming house. No one would think anything of it if you just came up to my room for a little visit.'
We took a streetcar over to the place where she lived, a big white house a few blocks from the river. It was a very respectable place, from all appearances, and the people were too. And no one lifted an eyebrow when Myra said we were just going upstairs to clean up before we went out for supper.
Well, sir, I hardly touched that woman. Or, anyway, if I did touch her, I didn't do much more than that. I was ready to and rarin' to, and, well, maybe I did do a
All of a sudden, though, she pushed me off to the floor, starting to bawl and sob so loud you could hear her in the next block. I picked myself up and tried to shush her. I asked her what the heck was the matter, and I tried to pat her and calm her down. She shoved me away again, setting up an even bigger racket.
I didn't know what the heck to do. Anyways, I didn't have time to do anything before a bunch of the other roomers came busting in.
The women hovered around Myra, trying to soothe her and talk to her. Myra kept bawling and shaking her head, not answering when they asked her what the matter was. The men looked at me, and kept asking me what I'd done to Myra. And it was just one of those situations where the truth won't do and a lie's no help. Which fortunately there ain't many of in this vale of tears.
The men grabbed ahold of me and began to bat me around. One of the women said she was going to call the police, but the men said no, they'd take care of me themselves. They'd give me what I deserved, they said, and there were plenty of men in the neighborhood to help 'em.
Well, I couldn't really blame 'em for thinking what they did. I'd've probably thought the same thing in their place, what with Myra bawling and her clothes being messed up, and me not being in very good shape neither. They figured I'd raped her, and when a fella rapes a gal in this part of the country, he hardly ever gets to the jail. Or, if he does, he don't stay there very long.
I figure sometimes that maybe that's why we don't make as much progress as other parts of the nation. People lose so much time from their jobs in lynching other people, and they spend so much money on rope and kerosene and getting likkered-up in advance and other essentials, that there ain't an awful lot of money or man-hours left for practical purposes.
Howsoever, it sure looked like I was about to be the guest of honor at a necktie party, when Myra decided to speak up.
'I'm s-sure Mr. Corey didn't mean to do wrong,' she said, looking around teary-eyed. 'He's really a fine man, I'm sure, and he didn't mean to do wrong, did you, Mr. Corey?'
'No, ma'am, I sure didn't,' I said, running my finger around my collar. 'I positively didn't mean nothing like that, and that's a fact.'
'Then why did you do it?' a man frowned at me. 'This is hardly something that a person does
