The proud rooster

"Morning there, Lizabeth," Mr. Henry said.

"Morning, Mister Henry,'his mother said without slowing her pace or looking at Mr. Henry. The car rolled slowly beside them.

"You done beard from that man of yours yet?"

"Goin' to the post office now, Mr. Henry. S'pose to be a letter there from him."

"And money too?"

"And ... money too."

"I sure hope it's there, Lizabeth. Don't forget ya already three months behind in paying me my rent money."

"I ain't forgot."

"I'd hate to set ya off the place, but I can't let ya live there for nothing, You understand that, don't you, Lizabeth?"

"I ain't looking for charity, Mr. Henry. Soon as I gets the money I'll be at your office."

You see that you do that." He spit again on the road, wiped his forehead with a dirty handkerchief and sped away, leaving a trail of dust. Bobby fanned the dust from his face and looked at his mother with her head still held high in the air. She hadn't looked at Mr. Henry once.

"You should have told him it wern't none of his business if you had heard from Daddy or not." Bobby waited for his mother to respond, but she didn't. "You should have told him to leave us be about some old money. Who he think he is?"

"He's our landlord and he got every right to ask about his money. We made a deal with him and we haven't kept our end of it."

Well, we can take him his old money today, right? As soon as we get all that money that Daddy sent us we'll show old Mr. Henry, right?" His mother didn't respond. "Right, Momma?"

Still she didn't answer and Bobby knew she was thinking of the other money that was supposed to have come to the

1 ago, at had never come, their rent money, and grocery money, and living expenses money. But today was going to be different. The money would be there today because it was his birthday. His daddy wouldn't forget his birthday. Maybe he was even going to send a big present along with the money. Bobby wished his Daddy could have been with him today, but his Momma had told him his Daddy had gone to Spottsburg to get a job and send them money so they could all move there. That had been nearly four months ago and they hadn't heard a word from him yet. On top of that, Bobby hadn't even had a chance to tell his Daddy goodbye, because he had left during the night. Bobby missed him, especially today because usually it was his Daddy who brought him to town to buy his new clothes, and afterwards, while his father drank a beer, Bobby would slowly sip on a root beer and let the foam sit over his lips pretending it was real beer. He knew he wouldn't get any root beer today, because his mother didn't drink beer.

The post office was in the center of the town on Main Street, right next to the funeral home and across from the courts building. As usual for a Saturday morning, the streets were bustling with activity. Bobby stared with awe at the people walking along the streets, going in and out of the different buildings. There was laughter and talking, shouts and music. Cars drove down the streets. Children ran back and forth. Most of the people were White and he marveled at their fine, brightly colored and well-fitting clothes and shoes. There were some Black people, too, and when Bobby looked at them be didn't feel ashamed of his faded blue jeans or the old shoes that were so worn there were places where the black leather had cracked and looked gray. They passed Mr. Henry's real estate office and saw him standing by the window, chewing his tobacco and spitting into a can he held in his pudgy fingers.