Tales from the Multiverse

Infinity Tree - Their Eyes Were Watching God

WARNING: Contains mild spoilers for Their Eyes Were Watching God.

It has been said that the only truly universal language on earth is the language of numbers, of mathematics. Indeed, humans have been putting their heads together from the beginning to figure out how to segment their big, dark world into clean, uniform boxes, and numbers proved the perfect way to do so. However, the language of our Earth that is older even than digits is the language of love.

Over the years, love language has been defined as many different things: self-sacrifice, the giving of gifts, physical caresses, acts of kindness, French, boxes of chocolates... Yet the message still remains the same, after centuries of lovers (star-crossed or otherwise) all of whom spoke love in their own special way.

Take Janie, for example. She spoke love in flowers. Pear blossoms to confess passion, rosebuds to whisper 'I miss you'. She knew the meaning behind every flower. Daisies were the flower of death, lilac stood for youth, myrtle for marriage. Perhaps that's why she was so drawn to the zinnia patch, or maybe she simply wanted a place to rest her weary feet.

The cool grass was gentle on the chapped soles of her bare feet. She let her toes curl in the grass as she squatted to touch the zinnia petals. Her eyes took on a thoughtful, introspective look as her long, slim fingers toyed with the soft flower. Janie was so focused on her little flower that she hardly noticed the lilting sound of guitar being played nearby until the chord slipped clumsily and turned dissonant for a split second.

Janie lifted her eyes, squinting over at the source of the sound. A young man seated in the shade of a willow tree was fiddling with his instrument. His dusty black feet trailed in the clear water of a little stream. Janie plucked one of the zinnias and ambled over to the guitarist.

"Mind if I sit?" she asked quietly.

"'Course not," he replied, flashing her a big, boyish grin. Janie sat down next to him heavily, sighing as the weight came off her feet. The young man kept strumming his instrument lazily. The notes vibrated off the strings and wobbled through the air like helicopter seeds, spinning to and fro as the breeze played with them and sent them to different destinations. Some of the notes skidded along the surface of the water like water bugs, some came to rest in the tangles of Janie's hair, some wandered away down the road and out of earshot.

"What are you doing here, Tea Cake?" Janie asked, leaning her head back against the trunk of the willow. The petals of the zinnia tickled her nose as she breathed in its fragrance.

"Had to see my baby girl," the guitar player told her matter-of-factly.

Janie laughed wistfully. "I'm glad. I been missin' you and that box o' yours."

Tea Cake smiled, eyes twinkling as he watched himself play. His spidery, calloused fingers plucked at the strings with something close to wonder, as though every chord to drop from them was a pleasant surprise. It reminded Janie of how she would catch him looking at her sometimes, like he still couldn't believe she had run off with him. Jody had never looked at her like that.

The couple sat without talking, sitting drowsily and listening to the music hang itself in the willow branches around them. It was beautiful and simple. The music spoke for Tea Cake and the scent of zinnias spoke for Janie. She took to plucking at the petals, pulling them from the stem one by one and arranging them in her lap in pink patterns. When the flower had been plucked bare and all that was left was the stamen, she brushed the tip of her finger against the yellow fuzz and rolled the minuscule particles of pollen between her finger and thumb, feeling the dust collect in the ridges of her skin like so many memories gathering in the folds of her mind and so many years staying in the heavy wrinkles under her eyes. She leaned forward and dipped her finger in the stream, and the water must've been magic because as it washed away the pollen it took the sadness and the years, as well. She looked over at Tea Cake and he grinned and winked at her without missing a beat on his guitar. Janie reclined again and put her head on Tea Cake's shoulder. She closed her eyes blissfully and let herself relish the infinity that Tea Cake had made for her there under the willow tree.

"Janie?"

Janie's eyes flew open. "Yeah, Phoebe?"

Her friend crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow at Janie. "What are you doin' sittin' in the mud? Don't you have a store to run, girl?"

Janie sighed with contentment. "Not when I got my Tea Cake wid me. The whole world stops when Tea Cake plays his guitar, don't you know that?"

Phoebe's brow furrowed and her dark eyes filled with puzzlement. "Janie... honey, Tea Cake's dead. He ain't played guitar fo' a long while."

The bubble burst, and the wrinkles under Janie's eyes reasserted themselves. She gazed blankly at the mess of pink petals in her lap for a moment before sweeping them off and getting to her feet slowly. Her back seemed bent under an invisible burden.

"I know that." She brushed off the seat of her overalls and worked up an empty smile for her old friend. "Let's get back to the store."

~

So yeah.

For an English assignment I had to write a short story about the characters from Their Eyes Were Watching God. So I did... :D

I don't expect many of you to have read it but it's a pretty famous book by a pretty famous Harlem Renaissance authoress, Zora Neale Hurston. It wasn't really my cup of tea, but who knows, maybe you'll enjoy it :)

virtues