The Friendship Read Online Free

been called foolish before. In fact, he said, he’d been called foolish more times than he wanted to remember. Then he began to tell us about one of those times, and theboys and I listened eagerly. We loved to hear Mr. Tom Bee tell his stories. With all his years, he had plenty of stories to tell too. He had seen the slavery days and he had seen the war that ended slavery. He had seen Confederate soldiers and he had seen Yankee soldiers. He had seen a lot of things over the years and he said he’d forgotten just about as much as he remembered. But as we walked the road listening to him I for one was mighty glad he had remembered as much as he had.
    We reached Aunt Callie’s, gave her the head medicine and the fish, then headed back toward home. Mr. Tom Bee was still with us. He lived over our way. To get home we had to pass the Wallace store again. When we reached the crossroads, Mr. Tom Bee said, “Y’all wait on up jus’ another minute here. Done forgot my tobaccie.” A truck and a wagon were now in front of the store. Mr. Tom Bee took note of them and stepped onto the porch.
    Jeremy Simms was still sitting on the porch, but he didn’t say anything to us this time. He nodded slightly, that was all. I noticed he wasn’t sucking on his candy cane; I could see it sticking out of his pocket. He bit his lip and looked around uneasily. We didn’t say anything to him either. We just stood there wanting to get on home. It was getting late.

    Mr. Tom Bee entered the store. “’Ey there, John!” he called. “Give me some-a that chewin’ tobaccie! Forgot to get it I was in before.”
    The boys and I, standing by the gas pump, looked into the store. So did Jeremy. His father, Mr. Charlie Simms, was in there now, sitting at the table by the stove along with his older teenage brothers, R.W. and Melvin. Dewberry and Thurston Wallace were there also and two white men we didn’t know. They all turned their eyes on Mr. Tom Bee. Dewberry and Thurston glanced at their father, and then Mr. Charlie Simms spoke up. “Old nigger,” he said, “who you think you talkin’ to?”
    Mr. Tom Bee wet his lips. “Jus’…jus’ come for my tobaccie.”
    Mr. John Wallace glanced at the men, then, his jaw hardening, set eyes on Mr. Tom Bee. “You bes’ get on outa here, Tom.”
    Mr. Tom Bee looked around at the men. His back straightened with that old, sharp-edged stubbornness. “Well, I sho do that, John,” he said, “soon’s I get me my tobaccie.”
    Mr. Simms jumped up from the table. “John Wallace! You jus’ gonna let this here old nigger talk t’ ya this-a way? You gon’ let him do that?”
    Suddenly Stacey bounded up the steps to the store entrance. “We—we waitin’ on ya, Mr. Tom Bee!” he cried shrilly. “We waitin’! Come on, Mr. Tom Bee! Come on!”
    Mr. Tom Bee looked over at him. He took a moment, then he nodded and I thought he was going to come on out. But instead he said, “Be right wit’ ya, boy…soon’s I get me my tobaccie.” Then he turned again and faced John Wallace. “You—you gonna give me that tobaccie, John?”
    Dewberry pulled from the counter. “Daddy! You don’t shut this old nigger up, I’m gonna do it for ya!”
    Mr. John Wallace turned a mean look on his son and the look was enough to silence him. Then he looked around the room at Mr. Simms, at R.W. and Melvin, at Thurston, at the two other white men gathered there. The store and all around it was plunged into silence.

    Mr. Tom Bee glanced nervously at the men, but he didn’t stop. He seemed bent on carrying this thing through. “Well?” he asked of John Wallace. “I’m gonna get me that tobaccie?”
    Silently John Wallace reached back to a shelf and got the tobacco. He placed it on the counter.
    Mr. Simms exploded. “What kind-a white man are ya, John Wallace, ya don’t shut his black mouth? What kind-a white man?”
    Mr. Tom Bee looked at Mr. Simms and the others, then went and picked up the tobacco. “Thank ya,