Go tell it on the mountain - James Baldwin [109]
Now they were on the near corner. His father and mother were saying good-bye to Praying Mother Washington, and Sister McCandless, and Sister Price. The praying woman waved to them, and they waved back. Then his mother and his father were alone, coming toward them
‘Elisha,’ said John, ‘Elisha.’
‘Yes,’ said Elisha, ‘what you want now?’
John, staring at Elisha, struggled to tell him something more—struggled to say—all that could never be said. Yet: ‘I was down in the valley,’ he dared, ‘I was by myself down there. I won’t never forget. May God forget me if I forget.’
Then his mother and his father were before them. His mother smiled, and took Elisha’s outstretched hand.
‘Praise the Lord this morning,’ said Elisha. ‘He done give us something to praise Him for.’
‘Amen,’ said his mother, praise the Lord!’
John moved up to the short, stone step, smiling a little, looking down on them. His mother passed him, and started into the house.
‘You better come on upstairs,’ she said, still smiling, ‘and take off them wet clothes. Don’t want you catching cold.’
And her smile remained unreadable; he could not tell what it hid. And to escape her eyes, he kissed her, saying; ‘Yes, Mama. I’m coming.’
She stood behind him, in the doorway, waiting.
‘Praise the Lord, Deacon,’ Elisha said. ‘See you at the morning service, Lord willing.’
‘Amen,’ said his father, ‘praise the Lord.’ He started up the stone steps, staring at John, who blocked the way. ‘Go on upstairs, boy,’ he said, ‘like your mother told you.’
John looked at his father and moved from his path, stepping down into the street again. He put his hand on Elisha’s arm, feeling himself trembling, and his father at his back.
‘Elisha,’ he said, ‘no matter what happens to me, where I go, what folks say about me, no matter what anybody says, you remember—please remember—I was saved. I was there.’
Elisha grinned, and looked up at his father.
‘He come through,’ cried Elisha, ‘didn’t he, Deacon Grimes? The Lord done laid him out, and turned him around and wrote his new name down in glory. Bless our God!’
And he kissed John on the forehead, a holy kiss.
‘Run on, little brother,’ Elisha said. ‘Don’t you get weary. God won’t forget you. You won’t forget.’
The he turned away, down the long avenue, home. John stood still, watching him walk away. The sun had come full awake. It was waking the streets, and the houses, and crying at the windows. It fell over Elisha like a golden robe, and struck John’s forehead, where Elisha had kissed him, like a seal ineffaceable for ever.
And he felt his father behind him. And he felt the March wind rise, striking through his damp clothes, against his salty body. He turned to face his father—he found himself smiling, but his father did not smile.
They looked at each other a moment. His mother stood in the doorway, in the long shadows of the hall.
‘I’m ready,’ John said, ‘I’m coming. I’m on my way.’
The End