BUD, NOT BUDDY

CHRISTOPHER PAUL CURTIS

WINNER OF THE NEWBERY MEDAL

​

CHAPTER 19

MAN! Ever since he heard me call my momma's name Herman E. Calloway
had locked hisself up in his room and wouldn't come out.

Mr. Jimmy and Miss Thomas made me sit at the kitchen table whilst they
knocked on his door and tried to talk him into opening it up, but the way they
kept saying "Herman" soft at first, then louder and louder, it sounded like he
wasn't talking back. After the longest while they decided to let the big baby
have his own way and came back downstairs. They sat at the kitchen table with
me.

Miss Thomas looked at me and said, "My, my, my."

Mr. Jimmy said, "Now look here, Bud." He wiped his hand over his face.

"You're sure your momma's name was Angela Janet?"

I said, "Yes, sir."

"And the two of you both had the same last name, her last name was Caldwell
too, she never said nothing about being no Calloway?"

I spelt it out for him. "No, sir, her name was Caldwell, C-A-L-D-W-E-L-L."

It seemed like he finally believed me, he said, "OK, I hope you don't mind me asking, Bud, but it's pretty important that we know, how'd your momma pass? And how long ago was it?"
Pass was just like gone, it was another one of those words grown folks use
instead of dead.

I said, "I was six years old when it happened, sir. I don't know why, she was too
sick to go to work for six days in a row, then one morning I went into her room
and she was dead. But she didn't suffer or nothing, it happened real quick, she
didn't even have time to close her eyes, she didn't look like it hurt or nothing."

Miss Thomas reached across the table and touched my arm, she said, "I'm sure
it didn't, Bud, I'm sure it was very peaceful for her."

Mr. Jimmy said, "When she was living, Bud, God rest her soul, what'd your
momma look like?" This was another strange question, but before I could
answer, Miss Thomas said, "James, what are you insinuating? I knew there was
something familiar about this boy, I don't know how I missed it before but look
at Bud's eyes, you have to ask if this is Herman's grandchild?"

Mr. Jimmy said, "Now hold on, Grace, I'm just trying to ask the questions I
know Herman'd ask if he could. Ain't a thing wrong with being certain before
we jump to any conclusions. Now what'd she look like, son?"

I said, "She was real pretty, sir”

Mr. Jimmy said, "I bet she was, Bud, but that ain't what I meant. Was she short
or tall, was she slim or big-boneded?"

I said, "I don't know, sir, she was real pretty and real tall and kind of skinny
like me, I guess."

Miss Thomas said, "James, Bud was six years old, everyone on earth was real
tall to him. I don't see the point in all this."

I said, "Pardon me, ma'am, I know how I can show you what she looks like, I
still got her picture."

They just stared at me.

I said, "Can I be excused?"

Miss Thomas said, "Yes, son, hurry up and go get that picture."

I busted up the stairs but stopped like I hit a brick wall. I remembered how mad
and crazy Herman E. Galloway looked when he yelled at me. I tippytoed up the
rest of the steps.

Uh-oh! Herman E. Calloway's door was opened up a crack!

I held my breath and tiptoed extra quiet and extra fast right into the little dead
girl's room and as soon as I did -- woop, zoop, sloop -- my heart jumped down
into my stomach.

Herman E. Calloway was sitting on the little chair in front of the little mirror on
the dressing table. His elbows were on the table and his face was covered by his
hands. It sounded like he was having trouble breathing 'cause every rime he
sucked in a bunch of air he made a sound like "Mu-u-u-u-h ..." and every time
he blew air out he made a sound like, "H-u-u-u-h .. ."

I didn't know what to do. I could tell Mr. C. didn't know I was in the room with
him so I could probably just backward tiptoe and get out of there without anything
happening.

I rose up on my toes, took two baby steps back and stopped. Shucks, I'd come
up here to show Miss Thomas and Mr. Jimmy what my momma looked like,
there wasn't nothing wrong with that, I wasn't doing nothing that meant I had to
sneak out of this room on my tiptoes going backwards.

I sucked in a mouthful of air and walked over to my bed. I picked up my sax
case and set it on top of the bed. I pushed the two silver buttons to the side and
the two silver tongues jumped open and made those loud click- click sounds.
Herman E. Calloway still didn't take his face out of his hands. He kept going,
"Muh ... huh ... muh... huh.., muh... huh.. ."
I reached inside my sax case and took out the envelope with Momma's picture
in it. I closed the two silver tongues again and could tell that Mr. C. wasn't
paying me no mind at all, he kept his face in his hands, his head was rocking up
and down real slow, sort of like he was checking to see how much it weighed.

I put my sax case back next to the bed and was about to leave the room when I
looked over at Herman E. Calloway's back.

He still didn't know I was in the room with him. I looked in the little round
mirror and still couldn't see his face, but I could see his hands a lot better. I
could see six little trails of water coming out from where his fingers joined up
with his hands, the three trails from each hand joined up together on his wrists
and ran down his arms puddling up on top of the dressing table.

Shucks, Herman E. Calloway was bawling his eyes out. He was acting like me
being his grandson was the worst news anyone could ever give you in your life.
This was Number 39 of Bud Caldwell's Rules and Things to Have a Funner
Life and Make a Better Liar Out of Yourself.

RULES AND THINGS NUMBER 39
The Older You Get, the Worse
Something Has to Be to Make You Cry

With babies it's easy not to pay them no mind 'cause crying's just like talking
for a baby. A baby's tears might mean, "Hey! You just stuck a pin in my behind
when you changed my diapers” or their crying might be the way they picked
out to say, "Good morning, Momma, what're we gonna do today?" That makes
it easy not to care too much about a baby's tears.

When you got a old person crying you got a whole 'nother story. When you got
someone as old as Herman E. Calloway crying you better look around, 'cause
you know you're square in the middle of one of those boiling tragedies. You
can't help but feel sorry for him, even if he's been mean to you from the minute
he first had eyes on you, even if he's crying 'cause he found out the two of you
were kin.

I walked over to Herman E. Calloway and before I could think my hand moved
out toward his back. I waited for one of those spaces between the muhs and the
huhs, then I touched him. His skin under his shirt was very, very warm.

It took a second for Herman E. Calloway to know someone was touching him.
When he knew, I felt his skin jerk and twitch the same way a horse's does when
a fly lands on it. He whipped his head around.

When he saw it was me he jerked away, took one more giant huh, then stared.
His mouth started moving like he was talking in a secret language that only
dogs could hear.

At last real American words started coming out of his mouth.
He said, "I ... I ... how'd... I'm, I'm so... look, Buddy... I... I just.. ."
"It's Bud, sir, not Buddy."

He put his face back in his hands and broke down all over again.

Man, it's a good thing the Thug wasn't around, 'cause if he'd've heard the way
Mr. C. was weeping, no one would've wondered who the real Waterworks
Willie was.

I put my hand back on Mr. C.'s shoulder and patted him and rubbed him a
couple of times, then left the room. It felt a lot better going out frontwards
instead of sneaking out backwards.

I ran down the steps back into the kitchen. Miss Thomas's and Mr. Jimmy's
eyes jumped right onto my envelope. I set it in the middle of the table.

Both of them just looked at it before Miss Thomas reached out and picked it up.
She went into the pocket of her dress and took some funny little glasses that
only had a bottom half to them, then put them on her nose. She pulled
Momma's picture out and held it as far away from her eyes as her arms would
stretch.

She looked at the picture, looked over her glasses at me, then looked right at
Mr. Jimmy and said, "Any more questions for this young man?" She slid the
picture over to him.

Mr. Jimmy picked it up and said, "Well, I’ll be, remember that old con man
who used to drag that ruint horse through town, now what was his name? Help
me out here, Grace, didn't he call his act Joey Pegus and his Broke-Back
Broncking Bucko?"

Miss Thomas said, "It was Joey Pegus and his Broke- Back Bucking Bronco,
James. What else do you see in the picture?"

Mr. Jimmy said, "Uh, uh, uh, that definitely is Angela Janet Calloway!"

He looked at me and said, "You sure this is your mother?"

I said, "Yes, sir. But her name's Caldwell, not Colloway."

He said, "Well, I'll just be."

Miss Thomas butted in on him. "There's little doubt about that, James, but what
we've got to do ..."

She kept on talking but I quit listening 'cause something just came out of the
blue and give me a good whop right on my forehead. Without even thinking
about what I was doing, I butted in on Miss Thomas and said, "That means
that's not some little dead girl's room I'm sleeping in, that's my momma's
room!"

She looked at me kind of surprised, like this was the first time she'd had that
thought too, she said, "That's right, Bud, you're back in your momma's room."
I said, "How come Herman E. Calloway never called on me and my mother?
All he'd've had to do was call on us one time and I know she wouldn't have
been so sad."

Miss Thomas and Mr. Jimmy took turns shooting quick looks at each other,
then she said, "Bud, give me your hand."

Uh-oh, pretty soon I'd have to come up with a Rules and Things about when
Miss Thomas holds your hand.

She stretched her arm across the table and I held on to her fingers.

"Bud” she said, "Mr. C. excuse me, your granddad didn't know anything about
you. No one knew where your mother had gone."

Mr. Jimmy said, "That's right, son, she just up and run off one day. I mean we
all knew Herman was hard on her, but it wasn't like it was nothing personal, he
was hard on everybody. I used to tell him all the time to slack off some on the
girl, to go easy, but I can remember his exact words. He said. 'Easy-go don't
make the mare run. This is a hard world. Especially for a Negro woman.

There’s a hundred million folks out there of every shades and hue, both male
and female, who are just dying to be harder on her than I ever could be. She's
got to be ready.' Shoot, I could see that the girl wasn't the type to--"

Miss Thomas said. "James, why don't you go up and check on Herman." She
said "why don't you," but it wasn't a question.

Mr. Jimmy said, "Oh. Oh, maybe I should” and left the kitchen.

Miss Thomas told me, "Bud, I know you can see your granddad has troubles
getting along with most folks, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I think it's because he expects so much out of everybody, himself included.
And when you set your standards so high, you get let down a lot."

I shook my head up and down, acting like I understood.

She said, "Now take your mother, for instance. He was so, so proud of that
young woman, and he loved her very, very much. He was determined that she
was going to be the first Calloway to get schooling all the way through college
so he thought he had to be strict on her, but he went overboard, Bud, simple as
that. He used to crow about how his mother and father had been born slaves
and how now it was only two generations later and the Calloways had come so
far and worked so hard that one of them was actually going to be a teacher. "It
was his dream, not hers--not yet, anyway--and he never gave her time to pick it
for herself. The more he pushed her, the more she fought him. Finally it got to
be too much and she left. We think she ran off with one of Herman's drummers.
"We've been hoping for eleven years that she'd send word or come home, and
she finally has. Looks to me like she sent us the best word we've had in years."

Miss Thomas smiled at me and I knew she was trying to say I was the word
that my momma had sent to them.

She said, "Wait here for one second, precious. I've got to go to my room for
something."

Miss Thomas was probably saying that as a excuse so she could blow her nose
and cry, but she came back in a flash. She was holding a iron picture frame and
handed it to me.

"This has been on my dressing table for thirteen years, Bud, ever since your
mother was sixteen years old. Now it belongs to you."

I wanted to say thank you, but I just stared at the picture in the heavy iron
frame. It was Momma.

The picture only showed her head, all around the edges it was smoky or foggy
so's that it looked like Momma'd poked her head out of a cloud. And Momma
was smiling. The same soft smile she'd give me when she got home from work.
It'd been so long since I'd seen Momma smile that I wanted to laugh and cry at
the same time.

Miss Thomas said, "Let me show you something, Bud."

She took the frame out of my hands and said, "Watch this."

She moved the picture up and down, right and left, then around in circles.

"Do you see how her eyes are on you all the time? No matter which way you
look at the picture, she's watching."

It seemed like Momma was looking direct at me no matter where Miss Thomas
put the picture.

"I can keep this?"

"I feel like I've been holding on to it until the rightful owner came along, and it
looks to me like he's finally shown up. What took you so long, child?"

Miss Thomas patted me underneath my chin. She said, "But Bud, we've got a
problem I'm going to need your help with."

Uh-oh.

"You said you were six years old when your mother died?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"OK, so that was four years ago."

"Yes, ma'am."

"You can remember how bad you felt when you first knew she was gone, can't
you?" "Yes, ma'am." 'Cause it still feels the same.

"Well, you've had four years to -- to heal that scar, but it still hurts some of the
time, doesn't it?"

"Sometimes a lot."

"I know, Bud. But remember, your grandfather and I just found out that she
passed. The hurt is brand-new for us” Miss Thomas started swallowing.

"And even though he hasn't seen her in eleven years, I know there isn't a day
that goes by that he doesn't think about her. He'd never admit it, but there isn't
one show that we give that he doesn't first look out into the audience, not to see
how big the crowd is, but hoping that she'll be out there. Hoping that she'd've
seen a flyer tacked to a telephone pole somewhere and would stop by to see
him. He loved her so much, Bud. Sorry, sweetheart." She took the hand she
wasn't squeezing my fingers with and took out a handkerchief and blew her
nose.

"Those stones that he picks up everywhere he performs are for her. She must've
been four or five years old, the band was getting ready to travel to Chicago for
a week and before we left he asked her what she wanted him to bring back for
her. He was thinking a doll or a dress or something, but she told him, 'A wock,
Daddy, bring me back a wock from Chicago.' So everywhere we went after that
he'd have to get her a 'wock,' he'd write the city and the day we were there on
them for her. He's got boxes of them upstairs, eleven years' worth.

"So, Bud, I don't know how Herman is going to be feeling after this, that's
where I need your help. You've got to remember that both Herman and I love
your mother just as much as you do."

This didn't seem like it could be true, not just because it didn't seem like anyone
could love my mother as much as I do, but because it didn't seem like Herman
E. Calloway could love anyone at all.

Miss Thomas said, "So if you can remember, Bud, be patient with him. That
ornery old man upstairs is very, very hurt right now and I just can't say where
he's going to land after this news gets through blowing him around." Miss
Thomas was starting to do that sting-y-eyed blinking.

"So we're going to have to give him some time, we're going to have to let him
find out how he feels before…"

Mr. Jimmy came into the kitchen. 'Grace," he said, "he wants you." Herman E.
Calloway was making everybody feel like they had the blues, it looked like Mr.
Jimmy'd just wiped some tears from his eyes too.

Miss Thomas came around to my side of the table and give me a hug. She said,
"You OK?"

I said, "Yes, ma'am"

She said, "Should I go see how he's doing?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She left the kitchen and Mr. Jimmy went into the living room.

I picked Momma's picture up and put it back in the envelope. Mr. C. chose a
good name for his house 'cause not a second went by before the back door
came open and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression walked in, talking like
it was going out of style. As soon as they saw me they all got quiet. Doo-Doo
Bug said, "Hey, Sleepy LaBone, where's everyone at?"

I didn't want to embarrass anyone by saying that all the grown folks were
sitting all over the house sobbing their eyes out, so I said, "They're around." I
remembered not to call the band "sir."

Steady said, "Well, it's you we wanted anyway." He put a old cardboard
suitcase on the table and said, "I told the fellas how hard you've been hitting
that recorder and how proud I was of you, so we put a couple of nickels
together"--he acted like he was yelling into the other room--"and Lord knows
on the peanuts we get it was a real sacrifice." He slapped some skin with Dirty
Deed, then started talking regular again. "Anyway, the Thug saw something at
the pawnshop and we picked it up for you."

"Can I open it?"

The Thug said, "Well, if you don't, I don't know who will."

Eddie slid the cardboard suitcase over to in front of me. It looked worse than
the one I used to carry around. One of the snaps on it was busted clean off and
the other one was stuck.

Steady Eddie said, "it's what's inside that's interesting. Just pull on that snap
real hard."

I pulled on the snap and it came off right in my hand.

The Thug said, "I knew it, the boy's just too country, he ain't used to handling
fine merchandise. We should've given it to him in a paper bag."

I opened the suitcase. Whatever it was was wrapped up in crinkly, wrinkly
newspapers.

I started pulling newspapers off and could tell that their gift was real heavy. All
of a sudden a shiny piece of gold showed through. I snatched more paper off
and couldn't believe my eyes! The Dusky Devastators of the Depression had
put their money together had had bought me a baby-size horn like Steady
Eddie's saxophone!

Steady Eddie could see I was stuck so he lifted out of the suitcase and fished
around in the bag for its mouthpiece, the neck and the reed holder. He took the
reed for a minute, put the horn together, than played it.

Mur! My horn sounded great!

Eddie said, "It's an alto, Bud, there's a little rust in some of the seams, but that's
to be expected with a horn that’s old. It's still got a good tone to it, this dent
didn't do her off too much." He showed me a big dent on the bottom part of my
saxophone. "I repadded, refelted and resprung it. The rest is up to you." He
reached in his pocket and took out a can that said BRASSO on the side. "Get
you a rag and shine her up. A man should polish his own horn."

I looked at my bandmates and said, "Thank you, thank you very, very much.
I’ll practice on this so much that I’ll be just as good as you guys are in about
three weeks!"

Doo-Doo Bug said, "Ohhh, now that's cold."

I said, "Really! I will."

The band laughed so I did too.

Eddie said, "Well, Mr. LaBone, I’ll tell you what, since you're so hot to get in
this band, I'd better get you started on your lessons right away." He pulled a big
silver watch that was tied up to a long chain out of his pocket and said, "I'm
going by for a while now, but I’ll be back around seven. If you've got your ax
polished up by then, I’ll bring some sheet music along and we can get started,
sound good?" His toothpick jumped with each word.

"Sounds great, Steady!"

Eddie took the strap off his neck and handed it to me. I put it on and Eddie
handed me my saxophone for the very first time. It was the perfect weight!
I said, "Can I be excused?"

Dirty Deed said, "What, you ain't gonna blow us some notes? We want to hear
what you got, Mr. Three- Weeks-from-Now."

I said, "I’ll let you hear me in three weeks when we're all on the stage
together."

They laughed again and the Thug said, "I'ma let you in on something, Sleepy
LaBone, there's certain members of this band that you will be outplaying in
three weeks, but it's gonna take you a whole lot longer to top me. On the real
tip, it's gonna take you at least ten years before you'll be able to even hold my
drumsticks."

Steady Eddie said, "Yeah, and that's about nine years and ten months longer
than you'l be with the band, Thug."

The Thug said, "Awww, man, you ain't gonna start that up again, you gotta let
me know what you heard."

I said, "Can I be excused? "

Eddie said, " 'head on, Sleepy LaBone, I’ll be back;"

I told my bandmates, "Thank you again, thank you very much." The Thug said,
"Nothing to it, little man." Dirty Deed said, "Now don't let that horn whip you,
mm"

Doo-Doo Bug said, "Our pleasure, Sleepy."

Steady Eddie said, "Man, get outta here”

I picked up both of Momma's pictures, my horn and the can of Brasso and ran
up the stairs. When I got upstairs I saw that Herman E. Calloway's door was
still open a crack. Miss Thomas's door was closed now and I could hear the two
of them in her room talking real soft to each other. I could've stood outside the
door and listened if I wanted to but that would've been rude, besides I didn't
know for sure how long it would take me to polish up my new horn!

I went into my mother's room and put my sax on the bed that Momma used to
sleep in when she was a little girl. I put her smiling picture on the dressing
table, then reached under her bed and pulled my sax case out again. I snapped
the two silver snaps and started taking out all of my things.

I took my old blanket out and remade my bed with it. I wasn't going to need to
carry it around with me anymore. I opened the tobacco pouch and took out the
rock that said Flint on it and set it on the bed. I took the pouch and the flyers
and walked down the hall to Herman E. Calloway's room. Even though I could
still hear him and Miss Thomas talking and boo-hooing in her room, I knocked
on his door anyway. When no one answered I opened it.

He had one of those dressing tables with a mirror stuck on the back of it too, so
I walked real quick over to it and set the flyers and the bag of four rocks down.
I got out of his room as fast as I could.

Whew! Even though it was me who'd carried them around for all these years,
you'd have to be a pretty big liar if you'd say those rocks and flyers really
belonged to me. Herman E. Calloway's name was all over the flyers and his
writing was all over the rocks.

Besides, the way he'd looked so shook up when he saw those rocks for the first
time I figure they meant more to him than they did to me anyway.

I went back over to Momma's dressing table and opened the little drawer. I took
one of the thumbtacks out and went back to Momma's bed. Next I took out the
envelope that had her picture in it. I took out the picture of her riding the sad,
saggy pony.

I still couldn't see what she was so unhappy about, the Miss B. Gotten Moon
Park looked like somewhere you could have a lot of fun.

I poked the thumbtack into the top of Momma's picture and walked to the wall
that she'd stuck all the pictures of horses on. I put Momma right amongst all
those ponies and horses she liked so much.

I didn't need to carry that doggone picture around, this wasn't how I
remembered Momma anyway, Momma was always excited and jumpy, not sad
and poky like this little girl. Momma was kind of old when I met her too, she
wasn't young like this picture at all.

The picture looked like it belonged. It's strange the way things turn out, here I'd
been carrying Momma around for all this time and I'd finally put her somewhere
where she wanted to be, back in her own bedroom back amongst all her
horses.

I went back to the bed and picked the Flint rock up. It was going to be enough.
I didn't need those other things with me all of time. I didn't need them to remind
me of Momma, I couldn't think about her any more if there were a hundred
hours in every day and a thousand days in every week. I couldn't think of my
momma any better than I already do. All I have to do is remember her hand on
my forehead when she'd ask me something like, "Baby, are you sick? Have you
got a temperature?" All I have to do is remember Momma letting me dry the
dishes after she'd wash them, how she used to say no one in the world could dry
a plate the way I could. All I have to do is take two or three deep breaths and
think of all the books she'd read to me at night, and remember that no matter
how long it took she'd read until I went to sleep.

Deza Malone was right, I was carrying Momma inside me and there wasn't
anyone or anything that could take away from that or add to it either.

The one rock from Flint would be enough. I set it in my sax case.

I picked up my saxophone. It was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen!
I wet the reed the same way I'd seen Steady Eddie do, then clamped it on the
mouthpiece. I closed my eyes and counted to ten. If after I got to ten I blew the
horn and it sounded pretty good I knew I'd be playing along with the Dusky
Devastators of the Depression in a week or two. If I didn't sound so good it
meant I'd have to practice for a couple of months before I'd be good enough to
get onstage with them.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!

I puffed my cheeks and blew as hard as I could. The saxophone only squeaked,
squawked and groaned, then sounded like it was making up words like
ahwronk and rooozahga and baloopa.

Shucks, maybe I didn't puff my cheeks out right, maybe I was blowing too
hard. I counted again.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten!

This time the horn only squeaked, squawked and groaned, it didn't sound like it
was trying to make up any words. It sounded great! It wasn't perfect, like when
Steady blew it, but I could tell that one day it was going to be. Something told
me I could learn how to play this. Something told me that those sounds were
more than just bad notes.

If you didn't have a real good imagination you'd probably think those noises
were the sounds of some kid blowing a horn for the first time, but I knew better
than that. I could tell those were the squeaks and squawks of one door closing
and another one opening.

I looked at the picture of Momma that Miss Thomas gave me. Momma was
looking right at me with that same soft smile. I know it's stupid to smile back at
a picture but I couldn't help myself. I know it's even stupider to talk to a
picture, especially when it hadn't said anything to start a conversation, but I had
to say. "Here we go again, Momma, only this time I can’t wait!"

I closed my eyes and began practicing.

Shucks, as good as things were going for me now I'd bet you dollars to
doughnuts that Steady Eddie was going to get here early.