Parallel Blues

“I must be,” she said. She stepped into the shedanother pace or two. She was tall and lithe, with shorthair. Although the light was dim, Jack could see that shewas beautiful. Stunning even, like a high fashion model.“Uncle Claudie told me about you,” she said. “He took ashine to you.” She squatted down and looked him full inthe face. “I can see why. You’re a pretty man.” She smiledand her teeth glowed in the dim light.“I’d rather be handsome,” he grinned. He felt foolish.He was sitting on the floor of a shed on some old blackman’s property and a beautiful black girl was telling himhe was pretty. Christ. What the hell was going on?47“Sometimes pretty is past handsome,” she replied.“Like Elvis. Elvis was pretty, more than handsome. PaulNewman is handsome. Sidney Poitier is handsome. BillyDee Williams is handsome. You and Elvis, y’all pretty.”She laughed again.“When you put it that way it doesn’t sound so bad.”“No other way to put it. You hungry? Got supperdone. Nice greens, side pork, cornbread.”“Sounds good. And yes, I’m very hungry.”“You can wash up in the house or out here at thehosepipe,” she said.They went out to the faucet between the shed andthe house. She went in to get him a towel. Jack pulled offhis wet shirt and ran water from the old leaky rubberhose over his body. It was steaming hot to begin with,until the water heated by the sun all day ran out. Then itpoured over him cold as ice. The sun was still showing onthe western horizon. It was about 8:30, he guessed.She came out and handed him a big blue towel. Shelooked him up and down. “You got nice muscles too,” shesmiled. “You work out?”“I used to, but not in a long time.”She was in fine shape as well. She had the body of adancer or model—tall and willowy. She was a light coffeecolor with a nose like those seen on statues of Ethiopianprincesses. Her eyes were just the least bit slanted, givingher an Oriental flavor. She was about as pretty as anywoman he had ever seen. She was elegant, Jack decided.“You’re in pretty good shape yourself,” Jack said.“I used to dance.”“Ballet?”“No, exotic.” She laughed. “You know, with the shinypole and high heels.”