“It did look right good, and smelled delicious, steaming pink and rosy as wine. I had not had no sassafras tea since I left Virginia when us kids used to strip the bark and bring it home to Grandma Arcie to dry. Trust Joyce to think up something different.

“‘You know we got to have out health tested before we can get married,’ she said.

“‘I know it,’ I says. ‘Let’s go tomorrow.’ Not really meaning that, but don’t you know that girl took time off from work and went. Me, too. And we’ll have the certifications by the end of this week.”

“This is only March,” I said. “June is a long way off. Aren’t you rushing matters a bit?”

“Them little details we wants to get out of the way,” said Simple. “We is busy people. We got to start looking for an apartment. No more rooming from our wedding night on. Then soon as we can, we gonna start buying a house. Maybe next fall. Do you want to room with us in our house?”

“What my situation next fall will be, I cannot tell. So may I delay my answer?”

“You may, just so you’re standing up there beside me at my wedding. You’re supposed to hand me the rings. Ain’t that what the best man does?”

“I think he does. But I’m rather backward about being your best man. After all, we are only bar acquaintances. A best man is usually a close friend, somebody with whom you grew up or with whom you went to college, somebody you know very well.”

“I did not grow up with nobody, my folks moved so much. I stayed with fifty-eleven relatives in seven different towns. I did not go to college, and I do not know anybody very well but you. I bull-jive around with lots of cats in bars, and I sometimes cast an eye on different womens now and then. I drinks with anybody from Zarita to Watermelon Joe. But, excusing Zarita, I don’t know none of them other folks very well. With them I just jives. Maybe I don’t even know you, but with you at least I talk. No doubt, you got some friends you know better. But don’t nobody know me better. So you be my best man.”

“Then I’m supposed to give you a bachelor’s party a night or two before the ceremony. Your wedding is going to cost me money, too, Jess! I’m certainly glad you’re drinking less these days, so I won’t have to stock up so heavy on liquors.”

“Just a keg of beer,” said Simple. “I mean one private one with my name on it. What you give the other jokers, I do not care. And the young folks will need some refreshments. F. D. is also getting married.”

“At the same time as you and Joyce?”