I shoulda stayed a little longer. I know I shoulda. But Viola acted like she wasn’t all that glad to see me. Seemed like she wanted me to hurry up and leave. At least that’s my thanking on it. She said no to everythang I asked her. I was trying to be nice. Yesterday, I called the house just to check on her, ’cause, even though I don’t live at home no more, I still like to see how she doing, see how she holding up over there all by herself and everythang. But I didn’t get no answer. So I stopped by on my way to work. Her car was right there under the carport. Viola don’t walk nowhere. And ain’t but so many places she could be. I knocked at least ten times and didn’t get no answer. I knew Loretta was at her volunteer job, so she couldn’t be over there. When I tried my key it didn’t work. I guess she finally changed the locks on me. I went on to work, but I had a feeling that something was wrong. Soon as I punched in, I called the hospital. My heart was burning the whole time I dialed that number, which I knew by heart, and since don’t nobody know how to find me, if something hada happened to Viola ain’t no way I woulda known. The whole time they had me on hold I was praying that, if she was there, this was just another mild attack, that she was breathing any kinda way she could, even if she was hooked up to something. And, sure enough, as soon as I heard that nurse say, “She’s in ICU,” even though I’m new and still hourly and the casino don’t pay me when I ain’t there, I punched out.

I thank I see her peeking out the window but I can’t be sure. I don’t thank she can get up, but that look like her hand pulling the curtain back. I could be wrong. I don’t know what else to say to Viola right now. I don’t feel none too good inside. It ain’t been right between us for a long time. Barbecue is what started our problems. I guess it would be fair to say that the crap tables ain’t helped us out none neither.

Way back when, a whole bunch of my people had hightailed it from Texarkana up to Chicago looking for decent work during the Depression and the rest of ’em boxcarred it over to Los Angeles. Daddy sent me up to the Windy City to live with his brother when I was sixteen, so I could finish school. He said one farmer in the family was plenty. Try to find a job where I don’t get dirty. If possible, try to find one where I get to wear a uniform. Protect something. Anythang.

Which is how I met Viola. I was a crossing guard for the elementary school right down the street from where we lived. She was fine and fourteen. Sassy. I fell in love. She was my chocolate rose. Next thang I know, we married and got four kids and we’d had about enough of them icy winds, that crunchy snow, them mean winter rats, and them blood-sucking mosquitoes every thick, sticky summer. I guess that was back in ’73.