The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey - By Walter Mosley Page 0,14
the end of a hard day.
“He loved you so much, Mr. Grey,” Nina said. She smelled sweet from perfume. Too sweet.
“What happened to him?” the old man asked, pulling away as he spoke.
When Nina fell back on the bed the toddler whined and Arthur put his hand on her cheek. She embraced her brother’s fingers with her head and shoulder. This gentle show of affection seemed to make the room clearer to Ptolemy. It was as if he was seeing something the way that minister had, in front of his white church so long before.
“They shot him down,” Nina said.
“Who shot him?”
“Drive-by.”
“Who’s that?”
“Nobody knows,” Robyn said. “Somebody jes’ shot him when he was sittin’ on a porch of a friend’a his.”
“But they say his name was Drivebee.”
“No. The men drove by in their car and jes’ shot him.”
The little girl was crying. Arthur lay down behind her and put his arms around her shoulders.
“Why?” Ptolemy asked.
“Nobody knows.”
Ptolemy squinted, trying to see with his mind’s eye the reasoning behind Reggie’s murder. He remembered his hidden box and a promise he’d made Coydog before the old man was dragged off and killed like some wild animal. It was something that happened to colored men and boys ever since they left the land of Ptolemy, father of Cleopatra.
There came the sound of heavy feet down the hall.
“Nina?” a man’s voice called from outside the room.
Ptolemy turned just in time to see a man come through the door. It was a freckle-faced, strawberry-brown man with straightened, combed-back hair. He was handsome but had a wild look to him as if there were something or someone right behind him, ready to strike. The man was tall and wore a purple shirt that was open down to the bottom of his chest. He wore a thick gold chain that held a pendant which formed the name Georgie, written in slanted letters.
Reggie’s wife rose from the bed like a creature coming up out of the water. Her movements were fluid, graceful. The idea of dancing came into Ptolemy’s wandering mind.
“Alfred,” she said.
They grabbed each other, kissed on the lips, and then pressed their cheeks and bodies together.
“Who’s that, Mama?” Arthur asked.
“Who’s this?” Alfred asked, looking at Ptolemy.
“This is ...” Nina began saying but she had forgotten the name.
“Mr. Ptolemy Grey,” Robyn said, snipping her words to their shortest possible length. “Reggie’s great-uncle.”
“Who’s that, Mama?” Arthur asked again.
“Oh,” Alfred said. “Hey, Mr. Grey. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“If your name is Alfred, how come you got a sign sayin’ Georgie hangin’ from your neck?”
A flash of anger crossed the haunted man’s face.
“He don’t mean nuthin’, Alfred,” Robyn said. “It’s just a question.”
“Georgie was my brother,” Alfred said angrily. “They shot him down.”
“They shoot your brother too?”
“What?” Alfred said, jutting his head toward Ptolemy.
Robyn moved between the men.
“He’s a old man, Alfred,” she said. “He sit all day in his house listenin’ to German music and readin’ old papers.”
“He bettah get some news, then,” Alfred said threateningly.
Nina went to Alfred’s side and took his arm.
“We bettah get outta here, Alfie,” the grieving widow and mother said.
But Alfred was not finished staring at the old man.
Ptolemy thought it was funny that a fool like that would try and intimidate him. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid hardly at all.
“Yeah,” Alfred said. “I come to take you and the kids back to your house.”
“Okay,” Nina said. “Come on, babies.”
Arthur and his sister started crying. They didn’t say that they didn’t want to go or even shake their heads. They just cried.
For their daddy, Ptolemy thought.
“Why’ont you let the kids stay here with Big Mama Niecie?” Robyn suggested. “She feed ’em an’ stuff.”
“Do you wanna stay here, Artie? Letisha?”
Arthur nodded and Letisha put her head in her brother’s lap.
“You sure?” Nina asked. “Okay. Mama’s gonna go home and sleep now. She’s tired.”
The baby girl whimpered for her mother but would not leave her brother’s lap. Nina kissed them both on their foreheads and then moved as if she wanted to kiss Robyn. But the younger girl leaned away. Nina played it off, putting her hand on Robyn’s shoulder.
All the while Alfred glared at Ptolemy.
The old man stared back, trying to understand what was happening, what had happened.
Nina turned away from her children and left under the protective arm of the handsome Alfred. Nina glanced back at her children as she went through and past the doorframe. Ptolemy listened to their shoes on the hardwood floor of the hallway.