That Summer. . .

Hank moved slowly as his eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to see a little. He was in awe of it all.  He had been drawn to the two ping-pong tables on the left side of the big room. He had never played ping-pong and was fascinated by the paddles lying on the tables.  Some of them had sand-paper surfaces and others had pebbled rubber. The colored kids had nothing like this. The one basketball goal that sat on the uneven clay outside Hutto High School was the only city-provided recreation there was in Bainbridge for colored kids. And it had a bent rim with no net.

            The large room was simple. The walls were concrete block, painted a light green. There were folding chairs all along the front and back walls.  He supposed everyone who wasn’t playing ping-pong watched the games.  On the far end was a stage on which sat a weight bench and the accompanying barbells and weights. In a corner, beside the stage was a large juke-box.  The tile floor was smooth and clean.  Looking out the back windows, he could see the white kid’s pool, which was lit up by a street light near the far end.  Through the front windows he could see Potter Street, alternately red and green as the traffic light down at Evans Street changed.  The windows at the far end looked toward the gym and the basketball court where he had been when he thought he saw the light.  All the windows were decorated with café curtains.

            He had passed by a small office on the left as he came in. There was another small room with a sofa and chairs across from the office.  In the dim light that streamed through the windows, Hank could see a men’s room and a ladies room beyond the entry area.

            As he walked toward that end of the building, a car rumbled slowly down the street. Sounds like that big white boy’s ’49 Mercury.  He and Jabbo liked that car; it was the only real hot-rod in town.  Just as it passed by, Hank heard a slight rustling sound from the direction of the counter, across from the restrooms.  As the hair stood up on the back of his neck, he froze for a second and strained to see or hear what it was.  He watched intently as he moved quickly and silently toward the door.  He had almost reached the foyer, when he saw the familiar form of a mouse scurry toward the restrooms from the counter area.  He knew all about mice.  There were always some in his house.

            With much relief, he changed course and walked confidently to the counter.  Now he realized it was a bar where the white kids bought candy and cokes. He walked to the bar and, standing on his tiptoes, peered behind it. His eyes widened when he spotted the rows of candy that sat on the shelves on the far wall above the cola machine. There were Baby Ruths, Hershey Bars, Milky Ways, and, his favorite, Snickers Bars. Hank occasionally would get one when he accompanied his mama on her visits to the grocery store…if she had an extra nickel, which was rare. He would eat it slowly to savor the flavor as long as possible. Now, here were boxes of candy that he could take, if he chose, and no one would know. But that would be stealing and, if his mama found out, he would be in serious trouble. Still the opportunity was almost too much to ignore. Maybe I could have just one candy bar.  I could have it eaten before Jabbo gets here.  Hank knew that Jabbo would disapprove of him going in the white kid’s Youth Center and was certain that he would disapprove of him taking something and not paying for it.

            Hank looked around cautiously, to make sure that no one was there to see his crime, and then eased around between the wall and the end of the counter.  He walked the two or three steps to the candy display and stood with his back to the counter, studying the many candy bars for a few seconds before he decided to stick with his favorite, Snickers. As he took one off the shelf and turned to go, he was startled by light flooding in through the window.  A car was turning the corner down at the gym.  The lights bathed the pale green wall and white ceiling as the car rounded the corner.  He knew that from a block away they couldn’t see him, but at the same instant he realized that, he saw a white face looking up at him.  With a gasp, he dropped the candy bar and leaped for the gap between the wall and counter.  He felt a hand grab the neck of his shirt, but by then he was moving so fast, the threadbare shirt ripped off him and he flew towards the front door.  He was rounding the corner just a few steps from the door when he felt a strong hand clamp on his left upper arm.  He struggled desperately to free himself, while pleading, “I’m sorry mister. Please let me go mister.  I won’t ever do it again. Please, Please, Please mister. Don’t hurt me.”

            His cries were cut off by a hand across his mouth and nose so tight that he couldn’t breath.  Please mister! I won’t do it again. Let me go!   Jabbo, Jabbo!  Help me, help me.  Jabbo!