 Southern
Complexion is a compilation of short stories that
depict southern life in the early nineteen sixties and present
day. Southern Complexion includes one chapter of two full-length
novels “Black Man Keep Your Vows” and “As
I Stood At The Gate.” It also features three short stories:
“Moe Brown,” a story of a young woman who allows
a higher power to choose between two potential husbands; “Pickled
Pig Feet,” a delightful story about the antics of a
young man and the discipline of his mother; “Tweedy,”
a tale that keeps the reader in suspense until the very end.
Juanita liked the idea of combining Moe’s first name with
Harry’s last name. When anyone asked whom she was dating,
she would simply say, “Moe Brown,” but nobody in
the county had ever heard of Moe Brown. That was the way she
liked it, and that was the only way she could have them both
without either one complaining about the other. She knew it
wasn’t right to lead two men on, but she couldn’t
figure out why God sent her two men to love. It didn’t
make sense to her. She knew that God had the answer, but she
just had to be patient enough to wait for it.
Juanita said nothing for several minutes. Her eyes volleyed
from one to the other as she stood there in confusion. “Daddy,
I don’t know which one I want. As soon as I think the
Lord dun’ told me, he come sendin’ me another. I’m
confused as a chicken with his head cut off. My mind is goin’
in all directions. Daddy, I’m waiting on the Lord to tell
me.”
“Well, you betta tell the Lord to hurry up and make a
house call, or else these two Negroes is gon be callin’
on Him.” “Daddy, I love ‘em both. Lord, please
send me a sign.” She covered her face with both hands
as Rudy continued to scold, “Whatcha doin’ messin’
with two men at one time anyway? Didn’t I raise you better?
I know ya grown, but as long as you livin’ with me you
gon live by my rules. Now it’s only one man gon be at
my house besides me, and dat’s the one you marry.”
Brown tossed his hand in the air and interrupted, “Mr.
Alexander, sir. I might have a solution to all of our problems.”
“What kind’a solution?” asked Moe. “Shut
up boy and let me hear what this boy got‘ta say.”
“Well sir, you want Juanita to decide right now on who
she want. Now I just be willing to wait on the Lord to send
her a sign.” He turned and looked at Moe, “Personally
I think He already has. He brought me in her life.”
“Boy, I don’t have all night tryin’ to figure
out what you talking ‘bout, so make some sense of what
you saying.” “Yeah. Make some sense, boy,”
repeated Moe.
“Anyhow, I know a prophet who can tell people certain
things about their life. Give them direction, sir. He is anointed
by God. sir, I’m sure he can help Juanita decide which
man she oughta marry.”
“Juanita don’t need no root doctor tellin’
her what man she should marry. I can tell her dat. I am the
man.” Moe was putting up a fight. “Negro, please,”
Brown said, “this man ain’t no root doctor. He is
an anointed man of God.” Rudy was thinking while Moe and
Brown argued amongst themselves. “Both of yawl shut up!
Now where you say ‘dis man live?” “At the
edge of town, sir.” Moe had to speak up, “Sir, you
don’t want him takin’ yo dauder to some stranger.
He probably some chicken-eating preacher who only visits on
Sundays, licking his chops.”
“Mr. Alexander, bein’ dat you want her to decide
and all, and bein’ dat she can’t do it on her own,
maybe God can give the prophet a sign.” Brown directed
his next comment to Moe, “Now if you got a better solution,
then tell us.” “Yeah, I got a betta solution. You
can leave and I can stay.” “Sir, this is your decision,”
Brown said, then looked at Juanita as she pulled her hands down
from her face.
“Daddy, I don’t know. I am Baptist. I ain’t
never been to no prophet.” She turned toward Brown, “I
always been told prophets don’t exist today.” “That’s
what your religious denomination says,” replied Brown.
“Well, my preacher says to be patient and continue to
pray about it.” “And I agree. But your father wants
a decision now.”
“I dun run out of patience, gal. Now either you can go
see this man or you can say bye to both of them right now.”
Juanita’s head dropped and her eyes followed the cracks
along the wooden porch. “Well, gal?” “Ok,
Daddy.” With an irate look, Rudy pointed to Brown, “Now
since you told me about this man, I hold my dauder in yo care.
If anything happen to her, don’t come back.” Moe
smiled and agreed, “Yeah, don’t come back.”
Rudy’s glare cut its way sharply to Moe, “And don’t
you come back neither.”
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Sometimes deep within me the topic of God or anything relating
to God irritated my stomach some kind of terrible. She said
softly, “If God wants you to have it, He’ll give
it to ya. Trust Him.” My face mocked her scornfully. I
added, “Ma, a lot of my friends are going to be there.”
“The Bible says, ‘When the blind lead the blind
the two will fall into the ditch’.” Now what did
that have to do with me? I wasn’t going with anyone blind,
I thought. “Does God not want me to have friends?”
I asked, as my temperature began to rise.
“Sure God wants you ta have friends. There’s plenty
friends in the church.”
“Naw, Ma, I want to see my friends and hopefully make
some new friends.”
“You can meet some new friends in the church.” “I
don’t think they want the type of friendship I’m
offering–if you know what I mean.” I winked. My
temperature was now back to normal. Suddenly she replied, “You
got enough uh dem concubines callin’ now.” I gasped.
“Conkabines, what are conkabines?”
She turned, shaking a box of elbow macaroni towards me, “A
hot-in-the-tail woman.”
“Oh!” I smiled. “We call them freaks and hos.”
“Watch yo mouth, boy.” “Well....” “Well,
whatever they are. You need a good Christian gal who don’t
reveal everythang in a pair of body huggin’ Daisy Dukes
shorts. She leave something to the ‘magination. She respects
herself. Caroline is a good girl.” I couldn’t stop
laughing, “And what do you know about Daisy Dukes?”
“I know more than you think I know.”
I’ve already got too many bad girls trying to be good,
I thought. Caroline was just too nice of a girl for me to take
advantage of. I made her off limits. “Ma, I can’t
go to church. I need money.” “Son, you need Jesus,
and you can get Him for free.”
“Depends on what church you go to,” I muttered.
I definitely didn’t want to get into that conversation.”
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The front door across the street slammed so hard it startled
Sis, Jerean, and Etta. The three girls charged the two living
room windows and quickly, but carefully pulled back the thick,
green velvet curtains and peered outside. The sky was a charcoal
gray, and a thick, steady stream of rain impaired their view.
The already dim light from a single fixture hanging in the middle
of the living room flickered when a series of lightning flashes
lit up the entire sky.
That was the first opportunity the girls had to catch a glimpse
of Tweedy jacking Mr. Jennings up by his shirt collar. “Cut
off the light,” Sis whispered. Mr. Jennings, a well-respected
pillar of the community, ran a small convenience store right
from his house. He was a reticent man who kept to himself. The
timid Mr. Jennings rose to the tips of his toes in an act of
surrender. The heavy wool feathered trench coat that Tweedy
wore completely hid Mr. Jennings’ small frame. Their conversation
was mute except for Tweedy’s occasional outburst of profanity.
“Cut off the lights!” Sis demanded again.
Jerean moved away from the window and snatched the hanging cord
of the light.
“What happened?” she asked, repositioning herself
beside Etta. “Nothing,” Etta replied. “I think
he’s still got him by the collar.” “It’s
so dark I can’t see nothing,” Jerean mumbled. With
a sharp nudge in Etta’s side, Jerean insisted that she
make some space for her to stand. “Are they still there?”
Etta asked, turning her head slightly toward Sis for an answer.
Abruptly Sis snapped at the two of them, “If you two would
shut up, maybe we can hear something.” A roar of thunder,
preceded by a crack of lightning, bellowed loudly across the
sky.
The entire street, and it seemed especially Mr. Jennings’
house, was illuminated. Tweedy had thrust Mr. Jennings up against
the front door. The door jarred open and Mr. Jennings went sailing
across the entrance floor. Tweedy entered the house, leaving
the door partially ajar. Etta’s eyebrows were as high
as her hairline, “Did you see that?” “We saw
the same thing you saw!” “What you think he doing,
Sis, going in Mr. Jennings’ house like that? His store
closed. He must be looking for something. Wonder what he looking
for? Probably money. He might kill’im. What you think,
Sis? You think he gon kill’im?”
Jerean stretched her neck out from around the green velvet curtain,
impatiently waiting for Sis to justify Tweedy’s actions.
“I think you need to shut up!” growled Sis. “Stop
asking me so many questions.” “But Sis, Jerean is
right, he got to be goin’ in there for something.”
“Well, how do you know?” Sis asked. “Tweedy
terrorizes everybody. He don’t care ‘bout nobody
but hisself. I wouldn’t be surprised if he making Mr.
Jennings get him some whiskey. He ain’t nothin’
but a wino.” “Un huh, winos are nice, but Tweedy
is mean. He a drunk. He don’t like anybody.”
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