Eshtine

it's so deep part two of two

Later Ellen walked west, back toward her car, on another broad avenue. She kicked a wrinkly green cypress seed as she went. She was thinking of the fairy tale where a princess plays with a gold ball. The ball lands in a well and a frog rescues it for her. The frog, of course, becomes a prince by the end.
Down the path past a brightly painted wooden bridge she saw a woman on a bench. How many times does the girl in a story meet an old woman in the forest? Ellen kicked her makeshift soccer ball but it veered off course into the grass. The rules said she had to kick it back onto the path. Her aim steadily worsened. She had to chase the ball from one side to the other. She kicked it toward the bridge; it veered foul to the left. Before she reached it she heard a noise; load squirrels were quarrel-chuckling down a tree. They heard her approach and froze: one on the ground, one at the base of the trunk. They both acted like they were caught at something, as though theyíd been engaged in behavior a non-squirrel shouldnít be privy to. By the time theyíd wandered off, fake-nonchalant, Ellen had completely forgotten where the ball had landed. She gave up, crossed the bridge, approached the bench.

Passing by the woman without an acknowledgment of some kind would have been rude. She had to at least look in her direction; if the woman ignored her or returned a cold stare, she would feel no further obligation. Ellen shifted her gaze from the road to the woman, who, she discovered, was already looking at her. Perhaps she had been for some time.
The woman was wearing a white jogging suit. Hair curlers covered her headóbright blue, hot pink, green, yellow, red. Ellen returned her attention to the road after giving the woman a nod of greeting.
ìGood morning.î
Apparently a nod wasnít going to be enough. Ellen looked back. ìGood morning.î She continued walking.
îExcuse me.î Ellen stopped. ìI donít mean to bother you, I hope you donít mind, but I havenít slept all night, Iím tired, Iím wore out, Iím not drunk, people think I might be drunk but Iím not, and Iím not on drugs eitheróIím just looking for someone to talk to, surely you can understand, and I really donít mean to bother you, donít need to tell you all my business, but I was trying to get to Kansas City, thatís where my baby is, but now Iíve got a house on Shenandoah, donít need to be kicked out, oh and by the way Iím Anita.î She rose from the bench and shook Ellenís hand.
ìNice to meet you,î Ellen said without offering her name.
Anita sat back down. She had a cigarette in her hand and a plastic tumbler on the bench filled with water or something else. Also on the bench were the cigarette pack and a pile of quarters.
ìIím sorry. Iím sorry.î Anita covered her face with her hands. Ellen made encouraging noises or nodded at any of the many repetitions of ìYou understand? You get what Iím saying?î No alarm bells were going off, no appeals for money were being made, Anita was just rambling in the way anyone might ramble after a night without sleep.
ìAnd I do have a drink sometimes or a bud, that donít solve no problems, that just...mellows you out. But I donít want to go to jail.î She shook her head. Ellen was trying to figure out which of the womanís eyes was actually fixed on hers. She chose the left and ignored the eye that didnít seem to be involved in this conversation. ìDonít like jail. Donít like noplace too tight. I wanna move around. And I donít wanna have to serve nobody either. Only ones on earth I answer to are my momma and daddy. You believe in God?î
Ellen replied in the affirmative.
ìI do too. And heís a jealous God. You get what Iím saying? Donít wanna go around saying ëYessirí or ënossirí to no one else. Was telling my baby and now Iíll tell you, if you wish for it youíll get it, so watch out! Wanna go back to church. Used to sing in the choir, you believe that? Itís been a while.î
ìYou sing?î
ìWhat? Yeah, I sing. Sang with my family, used to go around singing gospel, we went all over. Just us sometimes, no music.î
ìA cappella?î
ìWhat?î
ìWill you sing for me?î
ìRight now?î
ìYeah. Sing me a song.î
ìYou donít really want me to sing...î
Ellen kept up the coaxing. The womanís shy smile told her it wouldnít take much.
ìWhat should I sing? Just any song?î
ìSure. What you used to sing. Gospel.î
ìCome here and sit. You make me nervous, standing there.î
Ellen sat on the bench and lowered her eyes, careful lest her attentiveness prove a distraction. Anita kept almost-starting and laughing.
ìI sing baritone, so this isnít gonna sound like nothing. There were all these parts, this is just what I sang:
Itís so deep
Itís so deep
Itís so deep, Lord and itís so wide
If you wanna see your mother gotta cross over the river
But itís so deep, Lord itís so deep.
Wanna hear it again?î
Ellen sang along this time. Anita guided her through another verse and showed patience toward the novice who kept trying to force the melody to meet her expectations. There voices were in perfect blend when Ellen found the right notes. The sharing of the song made each of them louder; they were confident with it now. The baritone part didnít sound so bad on its ownólonely, maybe, but only because the whole world wasnít singing too. Ellen kept remembering another wise womanís advice: ìWade in the water, itís gonna be troubled water.î
They sang it twice through, tapping time on the bench, while other walkers strolled past. And when they were done Anita laughed and Ellen laughed and they clasped hands like theyíd won a victory.
It was time for one of them to go. They said their goodbyes with a hug and promises of remembrance. Ellen sang her way to the car. Every person she met the rest of the day was smiling.