Sometimes he–my father–would look in the mirror and say “the finest man that ever walked.” He’d laugh but really he wouldn’t laugh. I’d watch him and the laughter would disappear and he’d turn to–rather on me/he’d turn on me and I was about nine–maybe ten but I think I was nine and he said (ROBERT) “Do you think I’m handsome Eugene?” and I said (EUGENE) “Yeah Daddy.” Then he stood over me/towering over me in all his blackness and said with incredible menace (ROBERT) “Do you think I’d be more handsome if I was high yella like you?” (EUGENE) and I gasped you know and inside I’m crying/screaming and another part of me wants to hurt him, hit him and I balled my fists/balled them and he looks down at me and there’s bourbon in him/all day he’d been at it/the bourbon but you’d never know it/that he had bourbon in him unless you knew him well and could smell it. Via this bourbon, all the anger came to and at me. He–my father–“Robert Gaines” as he referred to himself when in his bourbon got mad–real mad and when that happened, the Geechie/Gullah came out. The standard English that he had so painstakingly studied to rid himself of Russelville/cutting wood for Georgia Pacific/that thing in him that would make him feel that he was the darkest and ugliest of all men would come back to him and he in turn would throw it on to me. (Pause) So he looks down on me/at me. (ROBERT) “You wanna fight me high yella, huh? You wanna fight? I think your best bet high yella is to get outta my face before I hurt you/cause I will knock your high yella/red ass down!” (Pause) (EUGENE) I looked up at Daddy’s face/his dark, dark face/his mysterious, handsome face and he looked at my light face–my eyes were very open–very wide and within that moment the night before us became very thick between us. My light face looked up at his dark one and he winced–actually winced because as small as I was and as terrified as I was, I also hated him and we both knew within that moment, in a weird way, my hatred was going to rear its head. Somehow we both knew my hatred was stronger than his 6′4′′ frame and within that moment his physical stature meant nothing at all. (Pause) My hate was strong but it always is, isn’t it? Hate I mean–pure unadulterated hate.

ALMA: Eugene and I were young once–in the sixties we were young children in the schoolyard. All of us were young in the schoolyard playing. All of us (CHILD ALMA) “Hot peas n’ butta–come and git yo suppa!”