"Yeh, it's damn funny, ain't it? Me and Jim. Him wanting babies. Me wanting facy clothes and jewelry. Me wanting Clark Gable and neon lights and the smell of rich men's cigars and highballs and dance music. Him wanting the feel of a plowed field under his feet and the smell of cows and horses on his hands and how many eggs the chickens was laying."
"You done wrong," said Sister Faye sadly, twisting at her bible. "You done wrong."
"No, you sure don't know what you lost till you lost it," Ann continued. "Once Jim gimme a present. I won't never forget it. It was on my birthday. Me, I was just getting ready to leave the old homestead. Fellow by the name of Ready was taking me. He had a good car. Said he'd show me a time. Jim's supposed to be downtown buying chicken feed, but he come back sooner than what I figured. Grabs me and hugs me and tells me how pretty I look. Well, I thought I heared Ready's car coming up the road so I pushed him offa me. He says, 'You know what I got you, honey?' 'No,' I says, not caring much."
"He laid a package in my hand. I opened it up and pert near fell out. I says, 'They ain't real, are they?"'
"He says, 'Honey, we didn't need no chicken feed anyways.'"
Ann looked at Sister Faye. "You know what they was?"
Sister Faye shook her head.
"Honest to God real diamonds. Diamond diadem, it was, like what I always wanted. With my initials on it wrote in gold."
A skid-row derelict swaggered by. "Hello there, sweetheart," he leered.
Ann arched her eyebrows. Her hips undulated slightly. Her scarlet lips parted. The derelict kept grinning back at her until he turned the corner at the end of the block.
"No, nobody done gifted me too much," Ann said. "Nobody but Jim and him no more. Been three years since I hocked that diadem."
A seagull wheeled in from the bay, glided down to the sidewalk, hooked a morsel of soggy bread with its talons and soared up toward the sun.
"Once when got terrible sick-drunk, I thought I still had that pretty diadem," said Ann. "I thought I was wearing it in my hair. Seemed like it was a crown and I was an angel way off somewheres. Then somebody kicked me in the back and it was Mr. Briggs the banker. He had a wart on his chin. Said he was leaving. He gimme ten dollars."
The derelict came swaggering back. He opened his fist and displayed two soiled dollar bills. Ann smiled and took his arm. Together they walked slowly up the street.
Sister Faye hurried along, her heart exulting. She wanted to make a few turns around the block in the sunshine so as to set her mind right for thinking. Then she was boing back to her mission. Going to sweep and dust and make herself a cup of tea. Going to open up her little black bible and mark it on the spot where the apostle said Mary washed Jesus' feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. Going to sing up to heaven of how the sunlight was diamonds on the bay, of how the seagulls' wings was all black and white velvet for heaven-climbing, of how this here Mary got strayed from the path of righteousness and got religion of being gifted by a servant of God.
Sister Faye fairly floated along the street. Great days were coming. Sinners were to be redeemed, orphans to be restored to their heavenly parent, and the word of God would reach out to people who were wretched and uncomforted. She sang out joyously,
"Glory to the Peace-Maker,
Glory to the Builder,
Glory forever!"
The street was beginning to come alive. People in rags hurried everywhere, drifting restlessly about, mostly without purpose or direction. Like flies swarming in a warm kitchen. The season of growth and life was at hand.
Larry the lantern boy pushed his cart more briskly, his peg leg beating out a defiant rhythm along the cobblestones. Lemon Joe blew the cinders off his vegetable stand and made a pyramid of the scattered green bananas, twelve cents a pound. He busied himself making up a new sign for thirteen cents.
Six Finger Flint borrowed a razor and a pan of water and scraped off a patch of gray hair under his chin. Black Maybelle stained her finger-nails a dripping red and smiled voluptuously at the Crying Swede. The Rabbit Nose kid came out of his alley and scurried for Cabbage Corner with unusual speed.
Along this thoroughfare of lost souls Sister Faye walked, her face transfigured, her hand caressing her bible and her heart singing out a benediction for everyone.
As she descended the steps into the gloom of her cellar, a big man with yellow hair was closing the door to her gospel temple.
"Praise be the Lord," she rejoiced. "The Moving Spirit got the Crying Swede at last."
Then the man turned and started to run, and she could see that he wasn't the Crying Swede after all. Her heart clamored with fear. This man was younger than the Swede, more athletic, his face white and his eyes hungry. He ran up the street and out of sight before she could say, "God's Mercy!"
She walked through the open door slowly and her legs trembled. She set her revival literature and her bible on the table. She unbuttoned her high-top black boots, sat on her bed, and started to weep softly..
CONTINUED