I didn’t know what made him put my hand there because after that he acted like he was embarrassed. He wouldn’t hardly look at me. He had the kind of look people get on their face when they’re worried about something. I’d come home from school and say Hi. He’d say Hi but he wouldn’t look at me.
Then after that he started bringing me things—things like popcorn and potato chips, doughnuts, cookies, candy, stuff like that. He never would give them to me himself. But Mama would say, “There’s some candy in there on the table Tyrone left for you.” I could still feel my hand down there. Sometimes when I would think about it, I would go and wash my hand. I don’t know why I did that, though. Either I would do something to keep from being alone with him, or he would do something to keep himself from being alone with me. like once Mama had to go to the store. He offered to go, but she said Naw, she would go. He sat in there for a while. I was back in the living room, but I knew he was sitting in there. And then he got up and went outside. I could hear him out there talking to Mr. Logan. I visualized him standing out there, smoking and nervous, talking to Mr. Logan, and Mr. Logan looking at him hard.
He didn’t come back in the house till Mama came. She lowered her voice when they got inside, but Mr. Logan still ought’ve heard.
“What you doing out there talking to him?”
“He’s all right.”
“All he does is mind everybody’s business but his own.”
“He probably don’t have his own business to mind. You can’t blame him.”
Mama said, “Well, he ain’t nothing but a old shit.”
Then he stayed in the house while Mama was getting supper ready.
She asked me to come and grease the pan for the biscuits.
When I passed Tyrone, he was looking down at my feet. “What’s wrong with you?” Mama asked when I got in the kitchen.
“What?”
“You can grease ten pans with all that grease.”
Mama always used to make fun of Tyrone’s name. I remember close to when he first started coming, we were sitting at the table.
“Your mama name you after a movie star too?” Mama asked. Tyrone looked embarrassed. He didn’t say anything. He was kind of shy of her at first, even though they were going together. At least that’s what I used to think, or maybe it’s just he felt uncomfortable with me there, me being her daughter and all.
“When I was coming up,” Mama said, sounding as if she was more than just ten years older than him, “people was naming their children Tyrone and Clark Gable. If they didn’t name em Clark, they would name em Gable. Who else? Ronald Colman and names like that. You know what Mr. Logan’s first name is? Valentino. He don’t hardly use it, though, except when he has to sign something legal, cause he don’t wont people to call him Val, you know. So most people just think his name is Logan and just call him Logan. That’s funny, though.”
“I was named after my grandfather, I wasn’t named after no movie star,” Tyrone said. He sounded like he was angry.
“I didn’t mean to make you mad.”
“I’m not mad.” He still sounded mad.
“Well, it is easy to think you was named after him. My mother almost named me Claudette, but my father raised such hell, she didn’t. He said she bed not name no daughter of his Claudette.”
Tyrone laughed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just I hate for people to think I was named after him, when I wasn’t.”
Mama nodded, then she kind of laughed again. He looked hurt, like she was laughing at him, but she said, “I don’t think Mr. Logan’s granddaddy was named no Valentino, though.”
Tyrone laughed. I laughed too. If Mr. Logan heard, I don’t think he laughed.
“You remember how it feel, don’t you?”
I said nothing. He said it real soft, almost in a whisper. Mama was in the kitchen and had the radio on.
“You remember how it feel your hand down there, don’t you?
I know you remember it, cause I remember it.”
He’d gotten close to me. I was sitting on the couch, but he didn’t sit down beside me. He just stood close to me, and if I looked across at him I’d have to look at the part of his pants where his private was. I looked up once, and it looked like it had that day, and I looked down at my book.
“I know you remember, cause I remember.”
I sat real stiff. I remember thinking he was crazy. Then I kind of scooted over and then darted into the kitchen where Mama was. I didn’t go into the kitchen right quick. I slowed down before I got there, and then when I got there I asked her if I could help with anything. She said, “Naw, honey.” When I turned he was standing in the door. I would have had to squeeze by him if I wanted to get by, so I sat down at the kitchen table.
“You finished your homework?” Mama asked. “Naw ma’am.”
“Well, you go in there and finish it then.”
“I just got a little bit more to do. I thought I’d do it after supper. My eyes are tired.”
“Well, okay,” she said. “Why don’t you go and look at those beans and see if they need any more water.”
“Yes ma’am.”
I went and looked at the beans. I put half a cup of water in them and then came back and sat at the table. Mama looked at me and then went on slicing cheese for
