Reawaken

12.

     The rain made an echoing rhythm on the tin roof of the old shack. The whole space was full of clutter. Newspaper pages and wrappers covered the tile floor in the kitchen, coats, and jackets laid out across the small daybed near the window of what appeared to be a living room. The shack was... small. A look to the left I could see down the hallway, where I assumed the bedroom and bathroom were nestled in. On the right was the small living room, and a door leading to the back where muddy shoes sat near.

     I sat at the kitchen table, my eyes landing on the mail that covered it. Upon inspection, I found a name.

     Dudley B. Claude.

     The man, Dudley, limped from the hallway, two thick quilts in his hand, handing them to both Reed and me. Reed had settled on the daybed across in the living area, his fingers rubbing the temples of his head. All the whiskey I had consumed had my mind swimming, so I could only imagine how poor Reed was feeling getting caught up in my mess.

     The man draped the other quilt over my shoulders, eyeing me like I had risen from the dead. But in some cases, I guess part of something he was missing may have.

     "Thank you." Was all I could utter as I watched him pull an old rattan chair at the table, still watching me carefully.

     "Your great grandmother knitted that quilt", the man uttered, a gleam meeting his old eyes, "Me and Lincoln were her only grandbabies. She had two boys who then had boys. She would've loved to meet her great-granddaughter."

     I felt all the air fall from my lungs, and I felt an icy chill run through my blood. I hugged the blanket closer to myself, wrapping myself in my lineage.

     "Lincoln Claude was my cousin, on his daddy's side. Our daddies were brothers, making Lincoln and I first cousins." He explained.

     "So, your name is Dudley. Dudley Claude?"

     The man nodded, a weak smile creeping on his withered face, "Yo daddy and I were thick as thieves, mo' like brothers than just cousins."

     I dug in my shorts, pulling out the damp and wrinkled photograph. I smoothed it on the tabletop before sliding it to Dudley. With shaky hands and squinting eyes, I watched as he examined it, furrowing his brows as he really looked at it. Something familiar met his eyes as he smiled.

     "I remember this summer," Dudley smiled, "Uncle Otis, your Daddy's Daddy, had just passed away. I was 'bout to leave for 'Nam and ya Daddy was gonna take over the farm."

     "Daddy has land here?" I uttered in disbelief. Daddy had loathed farm work. And we were so poor, the thought of some hidden land somewhere, something left in the Claude name gave me some hope.

     "Had." Dudley deadpanned, leaning back in his chair, running his hand over his bald head, "Eva Parish used to be a safe haven for us Negroes, a spot on the map no one could find. Until them city folk started taxing and taking hard-working people's land. Eva used to be a good place to try and build, but them city folk all they wanna do is take. Only a few acres of land here still owned by negroes, even less businesses. It's a miracle that Mayfair family had that hotel for this long."

     "Uncle Otis and Aunt Rutha Mae owned most of the land in this bayou", the man continued, "Farming and selling crops. But after Otis passed, Rutha Mae made a bad deal with a tax man and couldn't afford the land no mo'. Sometime after that, her and Norris moved to Alabama. It was a bigger town with mo' jobs."

     "But he never found a job," I blurted, tears welling in my eyes, "Not really. Daddy didn't hold on too much to honest work. Up until the day he died, we struggled to make ends meet."