Sweet Pea

Mama always told me I was meant to be somebody special. She told me that I could

be whatever I wanted to be; a school teacher or a doctor or even a princess. She used to tell me to follow my dreams despite what the white man would say, and I

believed her too. I felt that I was unstoppable. But that was before Daddy died. Now

I ain't nothing else but another poor, black face in Calhoun County.

Ever since he passed, Mama and I have been working and living over her restaurant

named Junebug's. Named after Daddy, the restaurant was where we have slaved

over hot pots and pans just to make meet, but lately the money hasn't been coming

in like it used to, and Mama starting to worry that if she can't make rent by the end

of this month that we gonna be put out onto the streets. Whenever I asked her if were gonna make it she would always smile at me and claps my hands in hers.

"I don't know Sweet Pea, but I know that God is gonna make a way for us." She

would say. At first I listened to her and believed it, but the more she said this the

more I felt that she was trying to convince the both of us that everything was ok.

Deep, down, however, she knew that time was slipping from her, and she had to

come up with something soon before we'd be out on the streets.

One night, as Mama and I were cleaning up and getting the restaurant ready for the

next day, the door flew open and in came a face that only the Devil himself would be

delighted to see; Mr. Clark. Mr. Clark was our landlord. He was a rather tall, older

man. His skin was pale, and his blue eyes were dark and threatening like the sky

before a thunderstorm. As he approached the counter he tipped his hat off to us and

then looked us both in the eyes.

"Evenin' Loretta, Sweet Pea," he began, "Mind if I get some of your peach cobbler?"

He asked with a devilish grin, his mouth full of rotten teeth. Mama smiled

and went into the backroom to fetch some cobbler. Now it was just me and Mr. Clark

in the room.

Every time I was alone with Mr. Clark I felt that he was always looking at me in a

way that all the boys in school looked at me. Although he ain't ever said much to me,

I knew that his body language suggested something sinful. Before he could even say

anything to me, Mama returned with the cobbler and some ice cream and placed it

on a table for him to sit and enjoy. While he was eating, we went back to cleaning up,

and Mama was as anxious as ever. She couldn't even dry the glasses right without

cringing at hearing his movements.

When he was done, he called her over to come get the empty bowl. She staggered

over and slowly took the bowl from in front of him. As she was doing so he suddenly

grabbed her wrist and looked her dead in the eyes.