Red White and Black

Chapter Seven

Markus

"I don't know, Markus. I jus' don't know." Aunt Sadie was up to her elbows in flour, a bright white contrast to her velvety dark skin. It was pie baking day. One for the church supper, one for home, and a final one to give to someone who needed a pick-me-up. Markus half suspected most of her friends and neighbors knew all about that last category and made sure to call with some tale of woe on pie day, hoping it would improve their chances of receiving the third pie. He sat in the kitchen watching, again marveling at how fast and sure her hands worked. The bowl full of apples and other ingredients sat on the countertop nearby, already sliced and waiting to find a home in her famous crust before baking until they were bubbly and oozing with goodness.

"What don't you know?" Markus had waited for a moment before taking the bait, realizing her comment was a set up for some kind of lecture or unpleasantness for him. He knew her moods too well and feared it might be fallout from the earlier run in with Mr. Morris.

"Well. I been thinking'," Uh-oh, already this don't look good. "I done everything in my power since your Momma died, bless her soul, to raise you right and keep you outa trouble. Ain't I done a good job?"

"You have Aunt Sadie, you sure have."

"Now you take your friend Jay C. There's a boy whose Momma developed a taste for alcohol and done forgot all about tryin' to raise him right, I do believe." She stopped forming the crust for a moment and peered over her shoulder at Markus. "I don't have to tell you this conversation's just between us, now do I?"

"No, ma'am."

"That's good. You a good boy, Markus, you know that? I don't tell you enough, but you a good boy and your Momma would be sayin' so herself if she was here, bless her soul. I know she would." She sniffled and furtively tried to wipe her eyes on her short sleeve. "Now look, you done gone and got me all teared up."

"So what about Jay C?" said Markus, trying to divert her away from the waterworks.

Three pie pans lined with crusts sat before her. She filled each with a heaping pile of apples until Markus was sure they would overflow. "Oh, these gonna be jus' right," she said to herself.

Aunt Sadie took pains to ensure her pies were tasty. Anything worth cookin' is worth cookin' like you gonna eat it yourself, she'd always say with a laugh. Markus thought back and tried to remember whether his Momma was a good cook. Furrowing his brows, he couldn't place it. In fact, now that he thought about it, he couldn't even visualize Momma's face. He was drawing a complete blank. It was happening with more frequency these days, he noticed, but it only took a quick refresher at the photos in his bedroom to bring back a rushing flood of memories. Still, it saddened him that he could forget his Momma's face, it seemed to be a betrayal--making him the Judas Iscariot of Gary, Indiana.

"Now I know Jay C ain't had all the benefits of a good upbringing like you had, but that don't excuse him none, let me tell you. A man's got to make choices in life and what we choose be tellin' what kind of man you gonna be. The rich got those choices just like the poor folk, don't you ever think otherwise. Everybody's gotta make them." She paused from her diatribe and started placing the top crusts on the pies. She carefully sealed the top crust to the bottom with a squeeze of finger and thumb over the finger of the other hand to create a delicate fluted edge that would soon be golden brown. Markus felt his stomach rumble in anticipation. "It seem's to me that Jay C just ain't makin' some wise choices these days, and I gotta be sure he's not gonna be draggin' you along that path with him."