The Book of Harlan - Not exactly a lost chapter -- edition #2 ****TINY SPOILER ALERT****
Like I said in my previous post -- some chapters fail to make it into a novel because they don't help to push the story along or ...or....or..there's a myriad number of reasons.
Anyway, here is another chapter that didn't make it into The Book of Harlan...
BESSIE SMITH / Not Exactly a Lost Chapter # 2 (unedited) by Bernice L. McFadden ©2016
A week later, Sam and Emma climbed into Bill and Lucille’s black, Pontiac Tudor Sedan and rode all the way to Philadelphia in virtual silence.When they reached the church, they parted ways, sitting in separate pews. At the repast, the couples strategically avoided one another until it was time to head back home.All day long, radio stations, both colored and white, payed homage to Bessie Smith. On the way back to New York, Lucille, soaked with grief, couldn’t bear to listen to another Bessie Smith song and so whenever one came on, she told Bill to turn the station.When it was clear that there would be no escaping Bessie’s throaty voice, Lucille finally said, “Just turn the damn thing off.”For an hour, the only sound in that car was that of the tires singing against the blacktop.The group might have made it home without incident, if Emma hadn’t run out of chewing gum, just as Bill merged onto The Harlem River Drive. EmmaShe’d spent nearly twenty-minutes rummaging through her purse, mumbling and cussing under her breath, until finally she snapped the purse closed, looked at Lucille and barked the question that had been gnawing at her for days.. “Why you let Harlan go? Sam’s spine locked, Bill’s grip tightened on the steering wheel and he pressed down on the accelerator. Lucille touched the corner of her eye with her knuckle. “Wasn’t that a beautiful ceremony? I ain’t seen nothing that grand since Florence Mills died,” Lucille commented casually.Emma pressed.“What he do that was so bad you had to fire him?” Lucille lowered the window. Air hurried in, tearing frantically at the drape of black netting covering the pillbox hat she wore. “Not now Emma,” Lucille warned, without looking at her. “Then when?” Emma shot back nastily. Lucille didn’t respond. Emma sucked her teeth, reached over the seat and poked Sam on the shoulder. “You got any gum?” “Sorry baby, I don’t,” he said quickly. The traffic slowed and then stopped. Bill hung his head out the window. “Something happened up ahead. Can’t see what though.” “Always something,” Sam mumbled. “All I’m saying is that whatever Harlan did,” Emma spat, “couldn’t have been so bad that you had to fire him.” Bill laid impatiently on the horn. “He said that you fired him because he was late. Don’t you charge ‘em if they’re late? Two dollars, right? Hell I would have given you the two dollars.” Once again, Emma opened her purse and sifted through the contents. “And I hear you talked about him so bad that he can’t even get any decent work –“ Lucille whipped her head around, “Well that makes sense, ‘cause he ain’t decent!” Sam closed his eyes. Bill laid on the horn again. Emma snapped the purse closed. “What did you say?” “I said he ain’t decent,” Lucille repeated matter-of-factly. Emma’s collapsed dramatically against the car door. “How could you say something like that about my baby?” ‘He ain’t a baby Emma; he’s almost a man. If he was down south he’d probably be married with a kid by now.” Lucille growled. “Seems to me if you treated him as a man, instead of your baby, he wouldn’t act like a child.” Bill lurched the car into the right lane, barely missing the bumper of the vehicle ahead of him. “Easy,” Sam cautioned out of the side of his mouth. Emma leaned in and wagged her finger in Lucille’s face. “Harlan is as decent as they come. You know how I know? “cause I raised him!” “Whatever you say, Emma,” Lucille said, giving Emma the back of her head. Bill floored the car up Fifth Avenue. “You know what your problem is Lucille, you don’t have no kids of your own, maybe if you had some or even just one, you would understand what it is to be a mother!” God had blessed Lucille with a pretty face and even prettier voice - ten fingers, ten toes, but only one ovary – and that one was bad.Lucille balled her fist and clenched her teeth.“Pull over.” Bill glanced in the rearview mirror. “Baby, we just a few blocks away – “ “Now! I want this bitch out of my car!” Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Sorry,” Bill mumbled to Sam as he coasted the car to the curb and stopped. Sam shrugged. “What you going to do?” he removed his hat from his lap and placed it securely onto his head. “Thanks for the ride.” The men shook hands and Sam climbed out. Emma shoved the door open, throwing, “Fuck you, Lucille,” as she scrambled out of the car. “Uhm, see ya Lucille,” Sam offered awkwardly and gently shut the door. The car pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the sea of automobiles. Sam turned his collar up against the evening chill, looked at his wife and asked, “So do you wanna walk the rest of the way?” Glowering, Emma aimed a rigid finger at the brown, pointy-toed numbers on her feet.“You think I can walk ten blocks in these roach killers?” “Oh.” Sam walked to the curb, threw his hand into the air.“Taxi!”
Bernice L. McFadden
Anyway, here is another chapter that didn't make it into The Book of Harlan...
BESSIE SMITH / Not Exactly a Lost Chapter # 2 (unedited) by Bernice L. McFadden ©2016
A week later, Sam and Emma climbed into Bill and Lucille’s black, Pontiac Tudor Sedan and rode all the way to Philadelphia in virtual silence.When they reached the church, they parted ways, sitting in separate pews. At the repast, the couples strategically avoided one another until it was time to head back home.All day long, radio stations, both colored and white, payed homage to Bessie Smith. On the way back to New York, Lucille, soaked with grief, couldn’t bear to listen to another Bessie Smith song and so whenever one came on, she told Bill to turn the station.When it was clear that there would be no escaping Bessie’s throaty voice, Lucille finally said, “Just turn the damn thing off.”For an hour, the only sound in that car was that of the tires singing against the blacktop.The group might have made it home without incident, if Emma hadn’t run out of chewing gum, just as Bill merged onto The Harlem River Drive. EmmaShe’d spent nearly twenty-minutes rummaging through her purse, mumbling and cussing under her breath, until finally she snapped the purse closed, looked at Lucille and barked the question that had been gnawing at her for days.. “Why you let Harlan go? Sam’s spine locked, Bill’s grip tightened on the steering wheel and he pressed down on the accelerator. Lucille touched the corner of her eye with her knuckle. “Wasn’t that a beautiful ceremony? I ain’t seen nothing that grand since Florence Mills died,” Lucille commented casually.Emma pressed.“What he do that was so bad you had to fire him?” Lucille lowered the window. Air hurried in, tearing frantically at the drape of black netting covering the pillbox hat she wore. “Not now Emma,” Lucille warned, without looking at her. “Then when?” Emma shot back nastily. Lucille didn’t respond. Emma sucked her teeth, reached over the seat and poked Sam on the shoulder. “You got any gum?” “Sorry baby, I don’t,” he said quickly. The traffic slowed and then stopped. Bill hung his head out the window. “Something happened up ahead. Can’t see what though.” “Always something,” Sam mumbled. “All I’m saying is that whatever Harlan did,” Emma spat, “couldn’t have been so bad that you had to fire him.” Bill laid impatiently on the horn. “He said that you fired him because he was late. Don’t you charge ‘em if they’re late? Two dollars, right? Hell I would have given you the two dollars.” Once again, Emma opened her purse and sifted through the contents. “And I hear you talked about him so bad that he can’t even get any decent work –“ Lucille whipped her head around, “Well that makes sense, ‘cause he ain’t decent!” Sam closed his eyes. Bill laid on the horn again. Emma snapped the purse closed. “What did you say?” “I said he ain’t decent,” Lucille repeated matter-of-factly. Emma’s collapsed dramatically against the car door. “How could you say something like that about my baby?” ‘He ain’t a baby Emma; he’s almost a man. If he was down south he’d probably be married with a kid by now.” Lucille growled. “Seems to me if you treated him as a man, instead of your baby, he wouldn’t act like a child.” Bill lurched the car into the right lane, barely missing the bumper of the vehicle ahead of him. “Easy,” Sam cautioned out of the side of his mouth. Emma leaned in and wagged her finger in Lucille’s face. “Harlan is as decent as they come. You know how I know? “cause I raised him!” “Whatever you say, Emma,” Lucille said, giving Emma the back of her head. Bill floored the car up Fifth Avenue. “You know what your problem is Lucille, you don’t have no kids of your own, maybe if you had some or even just one, you would understand what it is to be a mother!” God had blessed Lucille with a pretty face and even prettier voice - ten fingers, ten toes, but only one ovary – and that one was bad.Lucille balled her fist and clenched her teeth.“Pull over.” Bill glanced in the rearview mirror. “Baby, we just a few blocks away – “ “Now! I want this bitch out of my car!” Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Sorry,” Bill mumbled to Sam as he coasted the car to the curb and stopped. Sam shrugged. “What you going to do?” he removed his hat from his lap and placed it securely onto his head. “Thanks for the ride.” The men shook hands and Sam climbed out. Emma shoved the door open, throwing, “Fuck you, Lucille,” as she scrambled out of the car. “Uhm, see ya Lucille,” Sam offered awkwardly and gently shut the door. The car pulled away from the curb and disappeared into the sea of automobiles. Sam turned his collar up against the evening chill, looked at his wife and asked, “So do you wanna walk the rest of the way?” Glowering, Emma aimed a rigid finger at the brown, pointy-toed numbers on her feet.“You think I can walk ten blocks in these roach killers?” “Oh.” Sam walked to the curb, threw his hand into the air.“Taxi!”
Bernice L. McFadden
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