Late one afternoon when the social room was usually crowded with menfolks & womenfolks, going on ’bout the Colored, the day’s doings, and what might be in the cards, Mabel watched. Nothing going on but Indigo & that jukebox. Violins. Violins. Violins, white folks done come up from they grave to drive the Colored out of a nice spot, they spot. All this fiddlin’ was makin’ folks unhappy, not wanting no drinks, not wanting the hush puppies, greens, & catfish Mabel prepared with so much spice. All them empty tables. All them fiddles. It was better before, when the girl played her own mind. There was a fullness to conversation then. Plus, Pretty Man spoke to her ’bout more than how was Indigo playing. “What’s the girl doing on her fiddle these days?” he’d ask. Like all Mabel had to do was remember each time she’d heard “Blues in C” or “Arabian Song, No. 42.” No. No. Mabel looked at Indigo sitting by the jukebox, listening, fingering, humming. No more. Mabel pulled the plug out the wall. Took a step toward Indigo. “Indigo, give me that fiddle. Right this minute, do you hear me? Pretty Man don’t want no more fiddlin’ round heah. Now, c’mon, give it heah.” Indigo moved quick, like moonlight. “Spats. Crunch. G.C. in trouble. G.C. in trouble.” Indigo let the force of her own style of fiddle-fightin’ come to the fore. Such a war-cry bouncing in the social room where hips & bosoms used to shake. Mabel was overwhelmed by her mission to have things be the way they used to be, not understanding that Indigo’s existence made that impossible.

Spats & Crunch came running. Spats threw chairs in fronta Mabel’s every step. Crunch kept Mabel’s grabbing hands off Indigo’s face & fiddle. Mabel took on the attributes of a lioness, prowling, growling. It was everything the boys could do to save Indigo; her hair or her fiddle.

Mabel proceeded to attack the boys with her nails, her heels, her teeth, her voice. She callt on everybody: Moses & her mother. “Jesus, get that fiddle out my life.” Spats had some scratches. Crunch was generally a mess. They were all a little scared. Mabel was shouting for Pretty Man. Pretty Man was Mabel’s man. They were in a lot of trouble.