Walter Mosley - Six Easy Pieces: Easy Rawlins Stories

E ASY, SHE SAID, and then the phone rang. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe the phone rang, and then Bonnie called my name.

Bright sun shone in the window, and the skies were clear as far as I could see. There was a beautiful woman of the Caribbean lying next to me. From the living room, early morning cartoons were squeaking softly while Feather giggled as quietly as she could. Somewhere below the blue skies, Jesus was hammering away, building a single mast sail that he intended to navigate toward some deep unknown dream.

It was one of the most perfect mornings of my life. I had a steady job, a nice house with a garden in the backyard, and a loving family.

But I was nowhere near happy.

The phone rang again.

Easy, Bonnie said.

I hear it.

Daddy, phone, Feather yelled from her TV post.

Her dog, Frenchie, growled in anger just to hear her say something to me.

Jesus stopped his hammering.

The phone rang again.

Honey, Bonnie insisted.

I almost said something sharp, but instead I grabbed the receiver off the night table.

Yeah?

Ezekiel?

Ezekiel is my given name but I never use it. So when that deep voice came out of the phone, I stalled a moment, wondering if it was asking for someone else.

Ezekiel? the voice said again.

Who is this?

Im lookin for Raymond, the near-bass voice said.

Mouse is dead.

I sat up, pulling the blankets from Bonnies side of the bed. She didnt reach for the sheets to cover her naked body. I liked that. I might have even smiled.

Oh no, the voice assured me. He aint dead.

What?

No. The voice was almost an echo. There was a click and I knew that the connection had been broken.

Easy? Bonnie said.

I put the phone back into its cradle.

Easy, who was it?

Bonnie pressed her warm body against my back. The memory of Raymonds death brought about the slight nausea of guilt. Add that to the heat of the woman I loved and I had to pull away. I went to the window.

Down in the backyard I saw the frame of Jesuss small boat on orange crates and sawhorses in the middle of the lawn.

It wasa woman I think. Deep voice.

What did she want?

Mouse.

Oh. She didnt know he was dead, Bonnie said in that way she had of making everything okay with just a few words.

She said he was alive.

What?

I dont think she knew. It was more like she was certain that he couldnt be dead.

Thats just the way people think about him, Bonnie said.

No. It was something else.

What do you mean?

I went back to the bed and took Bonnies hands in mine. Do you have to leave today? I asked her.

Sorry.

Jesuss hammer started its monotonous beat again.

Feather turned up the volume on Crusader Rabbit now that she knew we were awake.

I know you got to go, I said. But

What?

I dreamt about my father last night.

She reached out and touched my cheek with her palm. Bonnie had work-woman hands, not callused, but hard from a long life of doing for herself and others.

What did he say? she asked me.

That was her superstitious streak. She believed that the dead could speak through dreams.

He didnt say a thing, I said. Just sat there in a chair on a raft in the water. I called out to him four or five times before he looked up. But just then the current started pullin the raft downstream. I think he saw me but before he could say anything he was too far away.

Bonnie took my head in her arms and held on tight. I didnt try to pull away.

WE SAT DOWN TO BREAKFAST at nine oclock, two hours after I was supposed to be at work. Jesus had taken Feather to school. After that he was going to work four hours as a box boy at Tolucca Market on Robertson. In the late afternoon hed come back home and read to me from Treasure Island. That was our deal: hed read out loud to me for forty-five minutes and then discuss what he had read for three quarters of an hour more. He did that every day, and I agreed to let him drop out of high school.

Jesus wasnt interested in a public school education, and there was nothing I could do to light a fire under him. He was smart about things he cared for. He knew everything about grocery stores because of his job. He worked there and did gardening around our neighborhood to afford his boat dreams. He liked carpentry and running. He loved to cook and explore the beaches up and down the coast around L.A.

What are you thinking about? Bonnie asked.

We were holding hands under the table like schoolchildren going steady.

Juice, I said. Hes doin pretty good.

Then why do you look so sad?

I dont know. Maybe its that phone call.

Bonnie leaned closer and squeezed my hand. Im going to be gone longer than usual, she said.

How long?

Maybe three or four weeks. Air France is having a special junket around western Africa with black political leaders and some European corporate heads. They need a French-speaking black stewardess who can also speak English. Theyll need me on call for special flights.

Oh. Yeah. It felt like she was punishing me for feeling bad.

I told you that Id have to be gone sometimes, she said sweetly.

Thats okay, I said. Just dont go believin it when onea those men says that he wants to make you his queen.

HUNDREDS OF CHILDREN were assembled in front of Sojourner Truth Junior High School when I arrivedthree and a half hours late.

Mr. Rawlins, Archie Ace Muldoon said, greeting me on the granite stair of the main building. Short and balding, the little white man doffed his White Sox baseball cap in deference to his bossme.

Hey, Ace. Whats happenin here?

Fire in the metal shop bungalow.

But thats down on the lower campus. Why they wanna evacuate up here?

Mr. Newgate. Thats all he needed to say. Our principal, Hiram Newgate, was the source of all discord and wasted energy.

Rawlins, I want to talk to you, Newgate said from the entrance hall. It was as if Archie conjured him up by saying his name.

What about, Hiram? I called back.

Newgates lip curled into a snarl at my disrespectful tone.

He was tall and scarecrow-thin with cheekbones that were almost as high as his eyes. He would have been ugly if he didnt have perfect grooming, bright white and immaculate teeth, and clothes bought only in the finest Beverly Hills stores. That day he was wearing a shark-gray jacket and slender-cut black slacks.

He was looking good but I had outdone him. I was dressed in one of my best suits; off-white linen with felt buff shoes, brown argyle socks and tan shirt that I kept open at the collar due to the nature of my job, which was supervising senior head custodian.

I liked dressing up because of my background, which was poor and secondhand. But it also gave me a secret pleasure to see Newgate look me up and down, comparing my clothes to his.

Where have you been? the jade-eyed principal asked me.

I shrugged, not having enough respect for the man to lie.

Thats not an acceptable answer.

Whats the fire report, Archie? I asked my custodian.

Fire captains down in the yard, the small man said.

Mr. Rawlins, Principal Newgate sputtered. Im speaking to you.

Sorry, Hiram, I said as I walked away. But Im late and theres going to be a lot of paperwork around this fire.

What? he exclaimed. He probably said a lot more, but I touched Archies arm and we went quickly toward the stairway that led down to the lower campus.