Rainin' Apples

Seth Sillmon

Rainin’ Apples

Author’s Note: This is the story of a young boy wanting to become a man and begin working to earn money with his brother. He doesn’t initially understand that once you cross that line and step out of the “fantasy” world that kids live in, there’s no going back. My main focus was to keep my protagonist unaware of certain elements that only and adult character would pick up on, but I feel that he still might analyze too much.

The summers seemed a lot hotter in Alabama when I was a boy. It was like the Sahara, but it lacked the scenic African beauty that you see in books or on television. If you even stepped foot outside your house between the months of May and September, you’d feel the burn of the sun’s spicy kiss on your skin. You could see the heat bouncing from the asphalt into the breeze and the wind whirled tornados of pollen around that covered the town in a blanket of yellow dust. Good ol’ Mooresville. Now Mooresville was a relatively mixed town (probably 50/50 blacks and whites) and we pretty much both just stayed to ourselves and tended to our separate businesses. The other towns surrounding us weren’t necessarily like that.

It was the beginning of summer break at the end of May and also the day that Gary was coming back home from college. I was up first that morning, but I stayed in my room and sat up in bed, playing with my yo-yo that Gary had bought me with some money he saved from plucking apples on the Duncan’s farm last summer. He made 15¢ for every apple he plucked, and was saving up money for when he would leave for Miles College that previous August. Pop was up next. It was a Saturday and Pop usually worked on Saturday mornings ‘til noon at the Wilson Iron & Pipe Mill, but had asked the boss-man off for that one Saturday of the month. He put on some old jeans and his boots and went outside to start up our ’51 Buick Roadmaster and head off to the bus station in Decatur to pick up Gary. It was about a 35 minute drive to the station from our house and roughly 40 minutes after he’d left, I heard Mama in the kitchen rattling and clanking dishes. She wanted breakfast to still be pretty hot when Pop and Gary got back, so she waited ‘til she figured they were on their way back to start the cooking. The smell of bacon, and eggs filled the house and I bounced out of bed and galloped to the kitchen. Mama was standing in front of the stove scrambling eggs and I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her small frame.

“Good Morning, baby,” she said.

“Good Morning, Mama! Can I have a strip of bacon before they come back?” I asked with wide eyes.

“Now quit being greedy! Everybody’s gone eat at the same time. Ain’t too much longer before your daddy and brother get back. Now go brush your teeth and wash your face.”

            I dragged my little legs to the bathroom and did as I was told. Midway through brushing my teeth I heard the car doors slam shut. I quickly rinsed my mouth out and ran to the living room. Pop and Gary came through the front door with Gary’s luggage.

“Gary!” I sang as my hero walked through the door.

“Hey there little man, how you been? Have you been doing what Mama and Pop tell you to without giving them any trouble?” he asked, just as happy to see me.

“Uh huh, I been good!” I said.

“Well since you’ve been good I got something for you!”

He threw his luggage on the sofa and started shuffling through one of the bags until he pulled out a brown leather wallet with green stitching around the corners.

“Whoa is that for me?!” I asked proudly.

“Yes sir! You’re growing up; you’re a little man now, and a man’s got to have a wallet,” he said.

“Thanks, Gary!” I shouted while giving him a high-five.

Mama shuffled her little red apron out of the kitchen while the bacon was still on the stove and ran to see her son.

“Is that my handsome man?” Mama said while opening her arms to hug Gary.

“Is that my lovely Mama?” He replied jokingly.

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re back home and safe! I missed you, we all did.” She said.

“Well I missed y’all too. And most definitely that cooking of yours! Mm-mmm, what’re whipping up for us this morning, Mama?”

“Well go put your bags and all your stuff in you and Leonard’s room and wash your hands. I got some bacon, grits, toast, and eggs & cheese waiting in the kitchen. Now come on while it’s hot.

I helped Gary take the rest of his bags to our room while still admiring my wallet that he had just given me. We all gathered around the kitchen table and prepared to eat. Gary picked up his fork and scooped up some eggs and before he could take a bite, Mama stopped him.

“You better say grace before you take a one bite. Always thank the Lord first,” she said.

“Yes ma’am, you right. I’m sorry. How about I say grace for us all?” he replied.

We all linked our hands together.

“Thank you Lord for blessing us all this morning to see another day and fellowship in your name. Thank you for this food we are about to receive and the hands that prepared it. Amen”

“Amen,” me, Pop, and Mama said in unison.

And we wasted no time digging in to her fine cooking. She usually only cooked like this on Sundays because she didn’t have the time any other day of the week, but with Gary coming home it was a special occasion. Everybody thinks their Mama’s cooking is the best, but I know that my Mama’s cooking is indeed the best.

“So how’s college?” I asked.

“Yeah, what are you studying again?” Pop followed up.

“Literature. It requires me to do a lot of reading. Novels, plays, poems; I read it all. And I want to teach it to kids in schools one day.”

“How much does it cost?” Mama asked?

“For both semesters it was $300,” he said.

“Damn, that’s a lot money,” Pop exclaimed.

“Well I was able to pay for the tuition and housing from working on Merv Duncan’s farm last summer picking apples for him and I plan on going back again..”

“Can I work with you too, Gary? I want to make some money.” I asked.

“No, Leonard you’re not big enough,” He said.

“But I’m a little man, you said so yourself!” I said.

“But I was just joking,” Gary said.

“And I have to put something in the wallet you gave me, right? And only money goes in a wallet.”

“You know what, you’ve got a point. But you have to see if it’s okay with your folks first,” Gary said.

“Well Can I, Pop? Please!” I asked.

“I don’t see no harm in you doing a little work at farm. Just as long as you stay close to your brother and do what he tells you,” Pop said.

“Franklin, have you lost your mind? No way I’m letting Leonard go work at some farm on the other side of town,” Mama scolded at Pop.

“Come on, Sadie. Ain’t no harm in the boy wanting hang out with his brother and earn a few dollars,” Pop said.

“Franklin, he’s 10 and won’t even be much help,” Mama said.

“Well the main thing we’d be doing is picking apples from Mr. Duncan’s orchard. He’s too old to do the work and his son’s to lazy. Leonard could be an extra hand to help us get through all the trees this season. He wouldn’t be around any machinery or nothing,” Gary said.

“See, Sadie? It be good to have him make a little of his own money,” Pop said.

“As long as he don’t get hurt,” Mama said.

“So I can do it?” I asked.

“Just as long as you stay close to Gary and don’t be fooling around, then yes you can,” she said.

And that’s how it began. I would be able to not only spend more time with Gary, but I’d also be able to make some money to put in my wallet.

*****

That next day I woke up to the euphoric smell Mama’s cooking. It was Sunday and would probably be the only day that we’d get some good cooking two mornings in a row. She cooked grits, biscuits, smoked sausage, and eggs. But we didn’t have the luxury of casually sitting down and eating like the day before. We had to eat a little faster because we were running a few minutes behind for the morning service at Mt. Zion Baptist Church.

We arrived at better time than Mama had originally thought we would. As we were pulling into the parking lot we could see other people still walking through the church doors. Mama was a singer in the choir (and the best one at that), so she always liked being a little early. When we got out and started walking towards the steps I saw my classmate and frenemy Chuck Wilson, and went over to him to talk.

“What’s up Chuck?”

“Nothing. I see your brother’s back,” Chuck said.

“Yeah, he’s back from college and he brought me back this wallet.”

I pulled out the brown leather wallet with green stitching to brag to Chuck.

“I’m going to get to work with him this summer on the Duncan’s orchard too,” I boasted.

“Nuh-uh! Quit lying,” Chuck said.

“Yes-huh!” my mama said I could.

“So, I don’t care,” Chuck said, “and your brother probably stole that wallet too, just like he stole that coat 2 years ago.”

“Shut up! Don’t talk about my brother like that before I punch you in your face!”

            I heard my Pop calling my name from the background to come inside so we could sit down together. I turned away and ran up the steps to him. Blacks from all over Mooresville gathered in this cramped and heated church. It smelled of peppermint and cologne; and as we walked in the church the ushers handed us fans to cool ourselves off. Mama with her long flowing choir robe flew to the pews behind the pastor as if she were an angel. Pastor Woodard walked out from his office in the back and sat down in his chair in the pulpit area. Me, Pop, and Gary took our seats in the second row and the choir stood up in unison and began to harmonize a song before the Pastor gave his sermon.

♫ Soon and very soon, we are goin’ to see the King,

♫ Soon and very soon, we are goin’ to see the King,

♫ Soon and very soon, we are goin’ to see the King,

♫ Hallelujah, Hallelujah, we are going to see the King.

The Pastor stood up and began to speak. I was looking over at Chuck still wanting to punch him for bad mouthing my brother, but Pop nudged me to look forward.

“Amen, amen. Soon and very soon indeed we will all see the Lord for our time here on Earth is short and we ought to live our lives accordingly,” the Pastor said.

“We will like to also congratulate brother Gary Jefferson on his return home from Miles College.”

The church erupted in applause for him and as he was blushing I turned to Chuck and to see the scorn on his face.

“Now we know you’ve had your ups and downs with trouble, but it’s good to see you on the right track and serving the Lord.”

The Pastor gave a beautiful sermon about staying on the right path in life. And he didn’t even know Gary was coming back home, but you wouldn’t be able to tell based on the sermon. After the church service was over we cruised back home and all I could think about was waking up that next morning to go work with Gary. 

*****

We woke up around 6am Monday morning to the sounds of Mama and Pop scrambling to get ready. They always rode to work together because we only had one car. Mama would drop Pop off at the Wilson Iron & Pipe Mill first (because she got off of work before he did) and drive to Marie’s Shop, where she was a seamstress. Before Mama left she packed me and Gary each a lunch and left it on the kitchen table in twin brown paper bags. I put my old jeans and walking shoes on and waited on the sofa by the door until Gary was ready.

“You ready, Leonard?” Gary asked.

“Uh-huh, I’ve been ready. Just been waiting on you,” I said.

Me and Gary headed out the door and began our walk to Merv Duncan’s Farm. We stopped at Drew Jackson’s house on the way over there. He too was picking apples with us for a few extra dollars this summer. Drew was a tall and lanky fellow, with big hands. He was perfect for this job and that’s why Gary recruited him to help us. It was about a 30 minute walk to Merv’s orchard in our neighbor city Tanner, Al, but with a brisk walk we got there in 25. Now Tanner was a white town. Almost all the townsfolk there were white and didn’t want our people there. But we just minded our on business and walked to the farm. Luckily his farm was near the outskirt and we didn’t have to walk near the center of the city.

            We all walked up to Mr. Duncan’s front porch where he was sitting and scared as a mouse I kept my mouth shut and let Gary do all the talking.

“Hey there, Mr. Duncan how you doing sir?”

Merv Duncan got up out of his porch rocking chair and shuffled his old legs to the steps. He was slowly balding and his hands had a strange shake to them. He had this disgusting brown crust around his mouth and spat twice over the porch railing before saying anything. Gary had extended his hand out to Merv to shake it, but Merv only looked at his hand, then looked Gary in the eyes and then looked out at the shed.

“The ladders are over there,” he said pointing to an old blue utility shed, “and the apples are all around you. Just pick ‘em down for me and let me know what the count is for the day.”

“Yes sir! Sure thing! I’ve got two extra pairs of hands this year to sho’nuff clean out all your trees.”

Merv just turned around and walked inside his house. We walked over to the shed and got the ladders out. There were only two ladders and Gary and Drew used them. They based their ladders up against each tree and climbed up and began picking. I stood on the ground beside both of them with a giant woven potato sack and caught each apple as they dropped to the ground. It seemed easy at first but got harder as both of them began to pick faster. Drew picked a little faster than Gary did, because Gary was missing the top half of his index finger (which is essential for picking apples). After they both picked clean 4 trees a piece, which is about 7 hours of work, we all would go to Merv’s truck and count each one as we placed them on the bed of his truck. He was out there counting with us of course, and paid all three of us a wage of 15¢ per apple. The first day we only picked about 190 apples, but on a good day we would get over 200. That’s about $10 a day, and to a little boy like me who thought he was a man, it was a lot! That’s how the most of our days went on the farm. It wasn’t until about 3 weeks in that we met Blanche Duncan, Merv’s teenage daughter.

It was any ol’ Thursday and we were all doing our usual, picking the trees. She had on a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and some mid-thigh cutoff jeans. Here hair was down and curly and she had her hands in her back pockets. She walked over to the tree that Gary was picking and shouted up at him.

“Hey! Y’all thirsty?” she said.

“Huh?” Gary shouted back down.

“Are y’all thirsty?” she asked again.

Gary and Drew both climbed down their ladders and walked over to her. She held out her hand to shake theirs.

“Are y’all thirsty? I’m Blanche, Merv’s daughter. You boys seem a little thirsty.”

Now she wasn’t bad to look at, very easy on the eyes.

“We’ve got some lemonade. Would you boys like a glass while Daddy’s gone?” She asked.

“Why yes we would indeed,” Gary replied.

“We fine drinking water from the hose pipe,” Drew interrupted.

Drew gave a fierce look at Gary and Gary turned back around to Blanche.

“You know what, yeah we’re fine with water,” Gary said.

“Aw ain’t no harm in a little lemonade, now is there?” Blanche said.

We all turned around to a door slam shut on the porch. It was Blanche’s older brother Phil who came running out of the house after her. He was a big boy, probably 6’1 and was taller than all three of us.

“Get your ass back in that house, girl. Now!” Phil scolded at Blanche.

He turned and looked at us said, “If I see another one of y’all niggers talking to my sister again, you gone regret it!”

“We sorry, man. Don’t mean no trouble, we just gone get back to work,” Gary said trying to calm him down.

Phil turned back around and stormed off to the house after his sister. That was probably the most terrified I had ever been up to that point. We continued on and picked the rest of the trees up until Merv came home. We did our usual count and I watched as Gary looked up at Blanche’s window and she stared down back at him.

*****

One day I remember sitting in the living room with Mama and Pop watching the nightly news; Gary was in our room lying down. It was about a week or so after Blanche had introduced herself to us.  It was a story on the TV about a teenage black boy found dead.

“…And the body has been identified as Marvin Glance, 17, from Huntsville. His body was pulled out of the lake early this morning after a fisherman spotted him. Police still have no leads at this point in the investigation,” the anchor reported.

“What a shame,” Mama said while knitting one of her scarfs, “Some folks in this world are just crazy.”

I got up and walked to me and Gary’s room and saw that he was putting his sneakers on and then he got under the quilt on his bed.

“Don’t go out again tonight Gary, I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“You ain’t got to worry about nothing, Leonard. I ain’t gone get in no trouble.”

“But what if Mr. Duncan finds out,” I pointed out to him.

“He won’t, trust me. He hasn’t yet,” Gary said.

*****

Mama woke me up at what was probably 5am that next morning. I felt her small hands shake me vigorously until I woke up and heard Pop in the background putting his boots on.

“Leonard, baby. Wake up!”

“Huh?” I said slightly dozing back off.

“Leonard, where’s your brother? Do you know where Gary is? He’s not in his bed,” Mama said.

I looked over to see Gary’s empty bed and began to worry. It was almost daylight and he hadn’t come back yet, which wasn’t like him.

“Now tell the truth, Leonard. Do you know where Gary may have been going? Or where he might be?” Pop asked me.

I didn’t want Gary to be mad at me for telling on him, but at the same time he may have been in trouble, so I told Mama and Pop.

“I think he may have been going out to the Duncan’s farm last night,” I said as I turned and looked at Pop and Mama.

“But for what? Couldn’t it have waited ‘til today? Mama asked.

“I don’t know what he was going back there for though,” I said.

            I hopped out of bed and threw some clothes on and got ready along with Mama and Pop. We headed for the Duncan’s farm first, which is where I was expecting him to be. Pop was zooming and pushing our little Buick as fast as he could. We ran through at least 4 stop signs, but Pop didn’t even seem to care, which wasn’t like him. Mama was praying out loud in the front seat with her hands over her mouth and eyes closed. As we approached the farm we could see about four other cars already there. Two of them were police cars. Pop drove up and sighed as he put the car in park. Mama bolted out of the car and ran up and fell on her knees. I got out of the Buick and walked up to one of the unpicked apple trees where I saw Gary hanging from a rope. His face was swollen and his mouth was twisted. His nose had been bleeding and his shirt was almost as red as the apples. My eyes welled up as I looked up to see my hero had fallen. For some odd reason that we still don’t know, his body was swinging back and forth causing the apples to fall from the tree. And as it rained apples I remembered the summer three years ago he had his finger chopped off by Cain Clark for putting his hand up Cain’s sister’s skirt.