“‘Bang-up good time—I intend to relax,’ were the last words she said. It’s that very last word, relax, that keeps running through my mind. On a vacation, you have to relax with somebody. If I go down to Atlantic City Sunday, I better not catch Joyce relaxing on the Boardwalk with no other joker. I will run him dead in the ocean. And he better know how to walk the water because he darest not come back to shore with me on the warpath.”

“I am sure an exhibition of that nature would perturb Joyce,” I said, “and do no credit to your own intelligence.”

“About myself I do not care,” said Simple. “As for Joyce, it would be worth a round-trip ticket to Atlantic City just to put the fear of God into her heart. Joyce do not realize who she is messing with, upsetting me like this. Here I am ready to give her the best years of my life, soon as that decree comes, and she cuts out on me for a fourth-night leaving no address whatsoever. Greetings! Don’t she know no more words than that to write to me? She could say, Dear Jess. She could say, Having a wonderful time, but something is missing—you! She could say, Hope you are well! How much do it cost to go to Atlantic City?”

“Damned if I know.”

“Lend me a dime,” said Simple. “I am going to phone the bus station and find out. Don’t let me catch no other Negro down there on no beach relaxing with Joyce when I get there, either!”

“Think carefully, old man,” I said, “before starting on a wild goose chase.”

“Wild goose, nothing!” cried Simple. “He’ll be a dead duck.”

A Hearty Amen

A Hearty Amen

MONDAY evening Simple greeted me with a grin.

“Did you locate Joyce?” I asked.

“I did not have to locate her. She located me! I have not been nowhere this week end but to East Orange across the river. Joyce come phoning me Saturday from Jersey that she were lonesome and to come over there and take her to a movie. Man, I hopped a bus so fast it would make your head swim.”

“I thought you were angry with her.”

“When my old landlady call me to the phone and I heard that sweet voice, ‘Hello, Jess,’ I forgot to be mad.

“‘Where are you, Joyce?’ I said. ‘Atlantic City?’

“‘No, darling,’ she answers, ‘just right over in Jersey with my godchild’s two parents. Sugar Pie, say hello to your Uncle Jess.’

“‘And don’t you know she put that child on the phone and held me up for five minutes. I do not think no child is cute on the phone, especially when it can’t hear good. Finally the little varmint dropped the receiver and I got Joyce back. Man, Joyce sounded like old times.