The Drawing of the Three

'Old enough to vote and not old enough for Social Security.'

'Well, I guess that puts me in my place.'

'But gently, I hope,' she said, and smiled that radiant smile which made his arms prickle.

'I'm twenty-three,' he said, 'but I was born in 1964?the year you were living in when Roland took you.'

'That's rubbish.'

'No. I was living in 1987 when he took me.'

'Well,' she said after a moment. 'That certainly adds a great deal to your argument for this as reality, Eddie.'

'The Jim Crow car … was it where the black people had to stay?'

'The Negros,' she said. 'Calling a Negro a black is a trifle rude, don't you think?'

'You'll all be calling yourselves that by 1980 or so,' Eddie said. 'When I was a kid, calling a black kid a Negro was apt to get you in a fight. It was almost like calling him a nigger.'

She looked at him uncertainly for a moment, then shook her head again.

'Tell me about the brick, then.'

'My mother's youngest sister was going to be married,' Odetta said. 'Her name was Sophia, but my mother always called her Sister Blue because it was the color she always fancied. 'Or at least she fancied to fancy it,' was how my mother put it. So I always called her Aunt Blue, even before I met her. It was the most lovely wedding. There was a reception afterward. I remember all the presents.'

She laughed.

'Presents always look so wonderful to a child, don't they, Eddie?'

He smiled. 'Yeah, you got that right. You never forget presents. Not what you got, not what somebody else got, either.'

'My father had begun to make money by then, but all I knew is that we were getting ahead. That's what my mother always called it and once, when I told her a little girl I played with had asked if my daddy was rich, my mother told me that was what I was supposed to say if any of my other chums ever asked me that question. That we were getting ahead.

'So they were able to give Aunt Blue a lovely china set, and I remember.…'

Her voice faltered. One hand rose to her temple and rubbed absently, as if a headache were beginning there.

'Remember what, Odetta?'

'I remember my mother gave her a forspecial.'

'What?'

'I'm sorry. I've got a headache. It's got my tongue tangled. I don't know why I'm bothering to tell you all this, anyway.'

'Do you mind?'

'No. I don't mind. I meant to say mother gave her a special plate. It was white, with delicate blue tracework woven all around the rim.' Odetta smiled a little. Eddie didn't think it was an entirely comfortable smile. Something about this memory disturbed her, and the way its immediacy seemed to have taken precedence over the extremely strange situation she had found herself in, a situation which should be claiming all or most of her attention, disturbed him.

'I can see that plate as clearly as I can see you now, Eddie. My mother gave it to Aunt Blue and she cried and cried over it. I think she'd seen a plate like that once when she and my mother were children, only of course their parents could never have afforded such a thing. There was none of them who got any thing forspecial as kids. After the reception Aunt Blue and her husband left for the Great Smokies on their honeymoon. They went on the train.' She looked at Eddie.

'In the Jim Crow car,' he said.

'That's right! In the Crow car! In those days that's what Negros rode in and where they ate. That's what we're trying to change in Oxford Town .'

She looked at him, almost surely expecting him to insist she was here, but he was caught in the webwork of his own memory again: wet diapers and those words. Oxford Town . Only suddenly other words came, just a single line, but he could remember Henry singing it over and over until his mother asked if he couldn't please stop so she could hear Walter Cronkite.

Somebody better investigate soon. Those were the words. Sung over and over by Henry in a nasal monotone. He tried for more but couldn't get it, and was that any real surprise? He could have been no more than three at the time. Somebody better investigate soon. The words gave him a chill.

'Eddie, are you all right?'

'Yes. Why?'

'You shivered.'

He smiled. 'Donald Duck must have walked over my grave.'

She laughed. 'Anyway, at least I didn't spoil the wedding. It happened when we were walking back to the railway station. We stayed the night with a friend of Aunt Blue's, and in the morning my father called a taxi. The taxi came almost right away, but when the driver saw we were colored, he drove off like his head was on fire and his ass was catching. Aunt Blue's friend had already gone ahead to the depot with our luggage?there was a lot of it, because we were going to spend a week in New York . I remember my father saying he couldn't wait to see my face light up when the clock in Central Park struck the hour and all the animals danced.

'My father said we might as well walk to the station. My mother agreed just as fast as lickety-split, saying that was a fine idea, it wasn't but a mile and it would be nice to stretch our legs after three days on one train just behind us and half a day on another one just ahead of us. My father said yes, and it was gorgeous weather besides, but I think I knew even at five that he was mad and she was embarrassed and both of them were afraid to call another taxi-cab because the same thing might happen again.

'So we went walking down the street. I was on the inside because my mother was afraid of me getting too close to the traffic. I remember wondering if my daddy meant my face would actually start to glow or something when I saw that clock in Central Park, and if that might not hurt, and that was when the brick came down on my head. Everything went dark for a while. Then the dreams started. Vivid dreams.'

She smiled.

'Like this dream, Eddie.'

'Did the brick fall, or did someone bomb you?'

'They never found anyone. The police (my mother told me this long after, when I was sixteen or so) found the place where they thought the brick had been, but there were other bricks missing and more were loose. It was just outside the window of a fourth-floor room in an apartment building that had been condemned. But of course there were lots of people staying there just the same. Especially at night.'

'Sure,' Eddie said.

'No one saw anyone leaving the building, so it went down as an accident. My mother said she thought it had been, but I think she was lying. She didn't even bother trying to tell me what my father thought. They were both still smarting over how the cab-driver had taken one look at us and driven off. It was that more than anything else that made them believe someone had been up there, just looking out, and saw us coming, and decided to drop a brick on the niggers.

'Will your lobster-creatures come out soon?'

'No,' Eddie said. 'Not until dusk. So one of your ideas is that all of this is a coma-dream like the ones you had when you got bopped by the brick. Only this time you think it was a billy-club or something.'

'Yes.'

'What's the other one?'

Odetta's face and voice were calm enough, but her head was filled with an ugly skein of images which all added up to Oxford Town , Oxford Town . How did the song go? Two men killed by the light of the