Faith flight - from Salvation Song - Excerpt

African American Review, Spring, 2000 by Reggie Young

June Bug thought he heard a voice calling him to come help. After having fallen asleep with his empty bottle next to him, he wasn't sure. But it wasn't his Big Momma's voice that he heard, which made him jump up from his cot and wonder what was going on. Running to the top of the stairs he found Azusa Beets struggling to get his Big Momma to her feet. She was throwing up all over the floor.

"Help me get her to the bathroom," Miss Beets said, "and I'll make sure she's all right for you."

He asked, "What happened?"

"Oh, just looks like she done had a little something that wasn't too good for her, that's all."

He looked at the floor in his Big Momma's room and saw a little brown bottle, like the ones used to store chemicals in the lab at school. Seeing her act that way, it didn't take him long to understand what she had tried to do to herself, but what he didn't understand was Miss Beets' presence.

"How'd you get in here?"

"Through the door," she answered. "You got a better way to get in a house? If you do, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell me 'bout it."

After resting Big Momma on her knees with her head hung over the side of the tub, Miss Beets told June Bug to let her stay like that for a while. When they walked out of the bathroom, June Bug asked her, "Just how on earth do you manage to show up all the time when someone's about to get their neck cut off, or croak off some poison?"

"It seems obvious to me that I never come 'round at the right time. After all, I've never gotten a chance to take care of the business that brought me 'round here in the first place."

"Then just what is your business?"

It startled him when she answered, "You!"

"Why me? Why you so worried about me? You don't know me from Nat Turner's ghost."

"Well, I might not know you from Nat Turner's ghost," she acknowledged, "but I do know you from Nat Turner. You two got a lot more in common than you may think, although you really is a lot more like Frederick Bailey. That is, before he flew away and changed his name."

June Bug said, "What?" He looked at her and shook his head.

"My main concern is with you, son. You might think of me as your guardian angel, only I ain't no angel. But I am trying to look out after you. You see, there's only so much one like me can do for someone when they done got as old as your grandmomma, 'cept try to help keep her together so she can help to keep you together. But she's really too old and set in her mind at this point to accept who I am, and who we really is."

"Really is! You supposed to be a high school counselor and you can't talk no better English than that?"

"Well, sometimes you get the words right, but you use them the wrong way. Some other times, you get the way you want to say things right, but then you use the wrong words. When you've been 'round like me, it's hard to put them together right all the time."

"You say like me. Well that's what I want to know. Like me who? Who are you?"

Miss Beets responded by asking June Bug, "Do you believe some people can fly? I mean some colored people--black folks like us?"

June Bug didn't answer. He just stood there and looked at her, wondering where in the world was she coming from. Miss Beets turned her back and headed toward the bathroom where Big Momma was still on her knees, but now begging Jesus to apply his healing hand upon her wayward soul.

"Go get her night clothes so I can get her out of these nasty things and get her ready for bed. Then you go on back to your place. I'll be able to get her down all right. You just be sure to come see me about that test; I haven't forgotten about you not one bit. Your test date for the ACT is this coming Saturday morning, 8:30 sharp, over at that new Circle Campus outside of the Loop. Since this is the last test of the year, I took the liberty of signing you up. I know that means I already owe you some money on our bargain, and I'll owe you some more after you actually take it. Come see me then and we'll talk about me, you, or anything you want." She flashed what appeared to be a timeless smile at June Bug, before closing the bathroom door and administering to the needs of Big Momma.

June Bug tried, but found it difficult to go back to sleep. He counted the change in his pockets and found that he had just enough to go to the Bucket-of-Blood to buy himself another brick of Wild Irish Rose. He put on his coat and went to the door, but hesitated before opening it. He wondered if the woman was gone from upstairs and if his grandmother was asleep by now. "Man," he! said, thinking about his Big Momma. "She could have died from that crap she took. She almost took her own freaking life."

He walked back over to his cot and sat down on the unmade bed. "After being so doggone holy for all of her freaking life, and running 'round like crazy worrying about saving my soul, she just about screwed up her own salvation. As hard as she's worked to make a place for herself in that kingdom she's always talking about that's to come, she almost blew it that quick. That's deep!"