Page 93 of Queen

Much as Queen longed to have her son home with, her, her heart bled for his

  distress and his thwarted dreams, and for the sense of failure that, in his

  letter to her explaining his decision, was almost palpable.

  Queen's mind ran like glycerin. There had to be some way she could help

  him. She was sure it was not a question of his ability, only of his

  circumstances, and if those circumstances could be changed, he would

  triumph yet. They had a little money; they could give him an allowance, but

  she doubted her ability to persuade Alec, or even Simon, to see the wisdom

  of that. Both men, father and son, were stubborn, and even if Alec gave,

  would Simon accept? In any case, she had to face the reality, that his

  professor was going to fail him. There was nothing she could do about that.

  A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 773

  She felt old and tired, for the battle had been long, and instead of

  victory, she was staring at defeat. She opened the door of the stove to

  put more wood in, and the flames danced and sparked. She stared at the

  flames and they ate into her mind, burning her brain, bringing back awful

  memories she hoped she had forgotten.

  She saw the fiery brands of men chasing her through the woods, and a

  burning bam, and a woman on fire screaming as she tried to escape. She

  saw a burning cross, and the buming body of a man she had loved. She

  turned abruptly away from the fire, as if to block the flames from her

  mind, but knocked against a pan on the stove, with hot fat in it. The fat

  caught fire and she grabbed the pan, to move it to the sink, but some of

  the flaming fat spilled on her dress, and her skirt began to bum.

  Hysterically, she beat at the flames, but could not get them out.

  She had escaped from it all these years, but now the fire had caught her

  at last.

  Screaming for help, she ran from the shack and threw herself to the

  ground, rolling over and over in the dirt to try to douse the flames.

  All the passengers on the ferry knew that Alec was in a bad mood, but

  could not work out why. He grunted when spoken to, complained if he had

  to give change for the fares, and would not tell anyone his problem. Fred,

  who was on the ferry, tried to get a spark out of his old sparring

  partner.

  "How's that boy of vour'n doin'?" he asked innocently, for surely Alec

  was proud of Simon. Everyone else in Savannah was. To his surprise, Alec

  gave only a minimal response.

  "Fine," he muttered. "Jus' fine."

  If Fred had been more aware of Simon's true circumstances, he might have

  dropped the subject, and let Alec simmer in his own dilemma for a while,

  but Fred couldn't do that, because he didn't know.

  "We's all mighty proud of him," he continued, rushing in like an angel

  intent on healing. "Ev'ry nigger in Savannah's gwine have a party the day

  he graduate."

  It was true. Simon represented a bright ray of hope for the

  774 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  future to this community of sharecropping ex-slaves, for whom life was hard.

  But Alec would not be cheered.

  "All them niggers best not count their chickens," he grunted. He was

  surprised that he was so depressed by Simon's failure. Having resisted, so

  obstinately, the plans for Simon's higher education, he had become, faced

  with the fact, extraordinarily proud of his son. Now it had all come to

  nothing, as Alec had predicted it would, but he found no pleasure in being

  proved right. He was grumpy and miserable, but could not blame the boy for

  he had already achieved so much more than Alec had ever imagined possible.

  He cursed himself for not giving the boy a proper allowance, and swore that

  somehow he would make amends to his son, but he could not think of anything

  that would mend a broken dream. The knowledge that the dream was

  collective, and shared by so many more than those directly involved,

  depressed him even more.

  He guided the ferry to the southern landing stage, anq saw Minnie running

  down the hill, shouting at him.

  "Pappy!" Minnie cried. "Ma's run off, and she cain't be found! "

  Alec guessed immediately what had happened, and why, for there was a

  history of it, and he cursed himself again for not realizing that Queen

  would have taken the news about Simon so hard.

  Minnie had come to visit.Queen that afternoon, as she did two or three

  times a week, to bring preserves and spend a pleasant time chatting about

  the world, and the difficulty of raising a family, and seeking advice about

  those difficulties. She went into the shack without knocking, and knew that

  it was empty. She called out for Queen and went into the kitchen. She saw

  the pan lying on the floor, and the charred patches of wood where the

  flames had caught and died, and began to worry. She looked all through the

  shack and the shed, and searched the surrounding property, but there was no

  sign of Queen. She went to the mansion and alerted the gardeners, but they

  had not seen her, nor had Dora. Like Alec, Minnie guessed that there had

  been a crisis, and ran down to the wharf to tell her father.

  Word quickly spread, and all the family gathered to join in

  A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 775

  the search for Queen. The gardeners from the mansion helped, and several

  of the passengers from the ferry, and other farmers and their sons, for

  Queen and Alec were well known and respected. They scoured the fields, and

  sought through the bushes on the riverbank. They looked in barns and

  outbuildings, and asked everyone they met, but no one had seen Queen.

  At evening they lighted torches to continue the hunt, and the night air

  echoed with the sound of her name being called.

  There was no sign of her.

  Alec came home at midnight. He was weary and worried, but there was no

  point in looking anymore until daylight. Julie had come to keep Minnie

  company, and they had cooked a meal for the searchers. When Alec came in,

  they looked at him hopefully, but he shook his head. They sat him down

  and fussed over him, and told him to eat, but he could not, knowing Queen

  was out there somewhere, hungry and alone.

  He fell to his knees and prayed that she be safe. He was not an overly

  devout man-he believed in God in a general way, not as an active

  participant in their lives-but he had no one else to turn to. When God

  did not answer his prayer the next day, he became bitter, and despaired

  for his wife. He sat in his rocking chair that night and would not go to

  bed. He hoped, against all common sense, that in a little while he would

  see her walking along the path toward him, and she would come to him, and

  sit in her rocking chair, and puff on her empty pipe, and never go away

  again. As the night wore on, he could not even bring himself to look at

  the empty chair beside him, for it reminded him too painfully of what he

  had lost.

  As the steel of dawn edged into the sky, he fell asleep in his chair,

  still waiting for her to come home
.

  A couple of miles away, in that same early morning light, a sharecropper

  and his son made their way down the lane to their few acres, and heard a

  scrabbling sound in the ditch that edged the fields. They thought it was

  an animal who had been hurt and went to find it, to put it out of its

  misery.

  It was Queen, covered in mud, brambles stuck in her hair

  776 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  and her dress, cowering in a hole she had dug with her bare hands. She was

  muttering, and stared at the sharecropper with vacant eyes. He knew she was

  the ferryman's woman, and reached out his hand to her, but she backed away

  from him, frightened, whimpering her fear.

  "Fetch yo' ma, boy," the sharecropper told his son. "This be woman's work."

  The sharecropper sat near Queen to keep an eye on her, and she seemed to

  accept his presence, but would not move out of her hole. His wife and two

  daughters came, and were gentle with Queen, and coaxed her from her hiding

  place with woman's words, and led her home.

  They brought the deranged Queen to Alec, at his shack. He stood on the

  porch watching her return, with Minnie and Julie, but did not go to her,

  because she did not seem to know him, or where she was.

  "This here's yo' wife," the woman said.

  Alec's heart exploded. "She low sick?"

  "She touched in the head," the woman said, simply, just as it was, without

  comment or criticism. Alec moved to Queen and put his arm around her, but

  she did not seem to know him. He offered food to the woman and her

  daughters, but she said there was no need.

  "I'm right sorry to see her this way."

  Alec led Queen to the house, telling her she was safe because she was home,

  but she did not hear him, nor did she recognize her daughters.

  91

  Simon tried to make himself comfortable in the cramped

  porter's cubbyhole as the train rattled through the night from

  Buffalo to Pittsburgh. It was two in the morning, and all the

  passengers in his compartment were tucked into their berths.

  Sleeping, Simon thought enviously, which he could not do.

  A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 777

  He was tired, depressed about his future, and worried about his ma.

  He had been writing a letter to Bertha, but the movement of the train

  jarred his hand, and his writing looked scratchy. Or so he told himself,

  when really he knew that he could not tell Bertha of his mother's plight,

  for he was worried she might not understand. Queen had been

  institutionalized because of her mental breakdown, and to the uncaring

  mind that equated with mad, and he did not want anyone to think that of

  his mother. He screwed up the paper and threw it in the bin. He would

  have to tell Bertha-she had to know-but he would do it tomorrow, when he

  was thinking clearly. He settled on the stool, his back against the wall

  and his feet on a shelf so he could rest his head on his knees, and

  closed his eyes to rest.

  He enjoyed his job as a Pullman porter, but he found it difficult to

  adjust to his nighttime schedule. He spent very little of the money that

  he earned on himself, and what he had saved from his wages, together with

  his tips, had given him sufficient money to dream about college again.

  He wouldn't have minded his failure if he believed that he did not have

  the ability to do well, but he was sure his low grades were because of

  his several part-time jobs, and he was loath to abandon his academic

  ambitions entirely. He wanted at least the chance to compete on a level

  field, to see if he was right, and he had begun to wonder if he could go

  back to A & T for one last semester. The money he had saved meant that

  he would not have to work for that time, and he would be able to devote

  all his energy to his education. Then he had received a letter from his

  brother Conway, telling him of Queen's plight, and Simon felt his place

  was in Savannah, with his mother.

  He woke suddenly, a few minutes later, to the insistent ringing of the

  bell. One of his passengers was awake and wanted something. Simon blinked

  the sleep from his eyes, and pulled himself to his feet. The bell rang

  again, and it irritated Simon.

  "Yes, sub, Massa. I's a-comin', Massa," he muttered angrily at the bell,

  in fair imitation of slave dialect. "Hold yo' bosses. "

  He splashed water on his face, and hurried to answer the summons. He

  presented a pleasant face to the passenger, an

  778 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  elderly man in silk pajamas and a fine dressing gown. His wife couldn't

  sleep, and he wondered if warm milk was possible.

  Simon was warming the milk on the stove in the serving cubicle when the

  passenger appeared in the doorway. The cubbyhole was small, and two was

  a crowd.

  "Something else, sir?" Simon inquired politely, but the passenger shook

  his head. He was a night owl, and did most of his thinking, and most of

  his work before his retirement, at night. Now he was wide-awake, and

  wanted someone to talk to. He kept his voice low, because others were

  asleep.

  Simon didn't know what to talk about, and busied himself with the milk.

  "Good job?" the passenger asked him.

  ... Tain't my dream," Simon shrugged.

  The man smiled, and wondered what Simon's dream was. So Simon told him,

  and told him of his plan to go back to the farm.

  The passenger raised his eyebrows. "You don't want to graduate?"

  "I wish," Simon said, shrugging again, and saw no reason not to tell the

  truth. "My grades are terrible."

  "Ahhh," said the passenger, and that made Simon mad.

  "Ain't no 'ahhh' about it," he said, rather more sharply than he

  intended. "I could do it, I know I could, but I never got the time to

  study. "

  He explained something of his circumstances, and the passenger nodded

  gravely, but his only comment was that it seemed a pity to waste all his

  hard work.

  Simon nodded politely, but seethed inwardly. What could this rich white

  man know of a young black boy's problems? Simon was guessing that he was

  rich, but his dressing gown was luxurious, and his manner courtly.

  "Milk's ready, sir," he said, to be rid of the man. The passenger took

  the tray and went back to his wife, but returned a few minutes later as

  Simon was settling to doze again.

  "Soffy," he said. "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Mr. Boyce. What's

  your name?"

  Simon gave his name, and they talked for a while of the world and its

  problems. The man seemed more interested in Simon's general knowledge and

  eventual ambition, rather than

  A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 779

  his specific educational achievements. He talked of world events, and of

  the possibility of war in Europe. The United States would not be involved,

  but Mr. Boyce wondered how Simon would feel if his country ever did go to

  war.

  "Reckon I'd enlist," Simon said.
br />   Mr. Boyce nodded and smiled. "Even though your country has not exactly

  treated your people well?"

  Simon didn't want to get into an argument about race relations. It was

  too late and he was too tired.

  "Be a sight more exciting than working on the farm," he said.

  Mr. Boyce nodded again. He checked his watch, and apologized for keeping

  Simon from his duties. He smiled.

  "Or your sleep," he said, and bade Simon good night. Simon settled into

  his cubbyhole and closed his eyes, but all he could think of was his

  mother.

  On the platform at Pittsburgh the next morning, Mr. Boyce sought Simon

  out and introduced his wife to him. He thanked Simon for the interesting

  conversation of the previous night and gave him a five-dollar tip.

  "Don't give up on your dreams too easily," he said. He and his wife

  wished Simon well, and went on the way.

  Simon put the five dollars in his pocket and finished up his duties. Mr.

  Boyce had annoyed him a little but had spurred him as well. As he worked,

  he came to a decision about his future.

  At the end of the summer, he went home for a week to see his family. Alec

  met him at the depot, and greeted Simon warmly.

  "How's MaT' Simon asked

  "Not too good, boy," Alec told him. They climbed into the buggy, and as

  they drove Alec explained what he knew of Queen's mental state.

  "Profoun' dementia, that's what they said." He wasn't sure he'd got it

  right. "I think that's what they said."

  Alec had called a doctor to Queen after her breakdown, and he had

  recommended she be institutionalized. He did not think Queen was

  dangerous to anyone else, but believed that she could do harm to herself.

  Alec resisted him strongly, but when

  780 ALEX HALEY'S QUEEN

  Queen's condition did not improve to any great extent, he put aside his

  prejudices about mental illness and committed her. He almost changed his

  mind when he took her to the institution; it was a nightmare place, a

  house of the mad, and Alec did not want to admit that Queen was mad. The

  doctors persuaded him that they could help Queen, and, however reluc-

  tantly, he agreed to let her stay.

  She was getting better, but he hated what they were doing to her. They

  had some water treatment they used on her, to flush the fire demons out

  of her, they said, but Alec thought it was something from a manual of

  torture. They strapped her to a chair and poured a headlong rush of water

  on her, from above, from a fireman's hose, sometimes for up to half an

  hour. He couldn't imagine how the frail woman who was his wife could

  endure it.

  But she did seem to be getting better.

  "The thing is," he told his son, "I keep wonderin' if'n she's in there

  coz of me. "

  He blamed himself bitterly for Queen's condition, but couldn't see what

  more he could have done to help her. He visited her as often as he could,

  and tried to provoke her to health.

  "I ain't mad," she said.

  Alec was gentle with her, but firm. He had to be firm, for both their

  sakes.

  "You here," he said. "Must be somethin' wrong."

  She didn't want to hear that, and turned away.

  "I keep wondering what I did wrong," he said. "I tried to make a good

  home fo' us, I tried to be a good husband to you, I tried to be a good

  pappy to our chillun . . ."

  He remembered her distress when Abner wanted to leave home, and what she

  had said to him then.

  "I think I tried hardest with Abner," he said, "because he weren't mine.

  He was some part of you I could never reach, and I thought if'n I could

  reach him, I could reach that part of you. An' I cain't work out what I

  did wrong."

  If there was one, single moment when Queen began to see the light that

  would guide her back to sanity, it was then. She could not bear to see

  him castigate himself, for he had done nothing wrong. She reached out to

  him and touched his hand.

  A WIFE AND MOTHER, LOVED 781

  "Not a thing, I promise you," she whispered. "Not one single thing."