Read Online Suder by Percival Everett - Free Book Online Page B

turned the cold water on full through the shower. I yelled and tried to crawl out, but she pushed me back.
    â€œYou must learn to be good!’’, she screamed. Then she made the shower very hot. “Promise me you won’t do it again!”
    â€œI promise! I promise!”
    A couple of days walk by and most all I’ve been doing is listening to the song.
    I’m walking around downtown and I pass a music store. I look through the window at the saxophones and then I go inside.
    â€œWhat can I sell you?” asks the clerk.
    â€œI’m interested in a saxophone.”
    â€œWhat kind?”
    â€œThe kind Charlie Parker plays. I think it’s an alto.”
    â€œAn alto.”
    â€œHow much do they cost?”
    â€œThere’s a whole range of prices. How much are you willing to spend?”
    â€œI hadn’t thought about it.”
    â€œThey start at about three hundred dollars.”
    â€œCan I see one of those?” I asked.
    â€œSure can.” The clerk turns and looks at the saxophones in stands on the shelf behind him and pulls one down. “This one is four hundred dollars.”
    â€œIs it hard to play? I mean, to learn?”
    â€œPiece of cake.”
    â€œI’ll take it. Do I need anything else?”
    â€œJust a reed.” He puts a reed on the mouthpiece. “Goes right here. You just tighten these.”
    I nod.
    â€œYou gotta remember to suck it, though.”
    I look at him.
    â€œThe reed. Get it soaked.” He pauses. “Bite down and don’t blow out your cheeks.”
    I look at him.
    â€œThe mouthpiece.”
    â€œShould I have a book?”
    â€œNaw, you don’t need a book.”
    I write him a check for four hundred dollars.
    He looks at the check. “Craig Suder, the ballplayer?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI’ve seen you on television.”
    I leave. I go to the park and spend a few hours trying to blow through the horn. Then I head home.
    When I get home I don’t see Thelma or Peter. I look out the window and across the street at that white guy’s house. Bill, that’s his name—I remember it now, Bill. His front door opens and out steps Thelma and my jaw drops and I watch as she walks toward the house. I open the door.
    â€œSo, I was right,” I says. “Jesus, Thelma, why him? Why some white guy?”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œWhat am I talking about?” I’m pacing. “I’m talking about adultery, fooling around, you carrying on with the neighbor, Bill.”
    â€œI’ve never seen you just this way before.”
    â€œYou’ve never seen me just this way?”
    â€œI was borrowing some paprika, see?” She holds up a little tin.
    â€œPaprika? You can do better than that. Paprika? What kind of single man keeps paprika in his house?”
    Thelma walks to the kitchen. “He’s very nice.”
    I follow her. “I’m sure. Who borrows paprika?”
    â€œAre you through?”
    I don’t say anything. I just walk out of the kitchen and pace around the living room. Then I go back to the kitchen. “I know how to get to the bottom of this.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI’m going to have a word with Bill.” I head off to the front door.
    â€œCraig, no.” She’s behind me.
    I open the door. “Yes.”
    Thelma follows me across the yard and she’s pleading. “No! Please. Nothing’s going on. I swear, Craig.”
    â€œWe’ll see. We’ll see.” I ring Bill’s bell.
    Bill pulls open the door.
    I slap him flat-palmed in the chest and he rocks back. “What’s the story, Bill?”
    He looks at me and then at Thelma. “What’s going—”
    I interrupt him. “Let’s have it, Bill.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œI’m talking about you and my wife.” My hands are in fists.
    â€œBill,” says Thelma,