Diane Payne

Ice Storm Blues

"When you gonna git a job? My daddy warned me you one lazy sorry ass
bastard, and I tole him he wuz wrong, you'd git a job."

"Baby, don't talk like that. We gots food. We gots a roof. What more
do we need?"

"Money. I ain't gonna be the only one working. I hate cleaning
houses. Hate scrubbing those nasty toilets. Things ain't changed much
in the South."

"Quit cleaning houses."

"Quit! Then what we's gonna eat?"

"I'm playing in Monroe this weekend. There's gonna be money."

"If you bring any of it home."

"I'll bring you home every dime, baby."

"Why don't you get a real job? Go work at the mill."

"I ain't working no mill."

"Sammy makes a lot of money working on the barge."

"You don't want me gone for thirty days working no damn filthy barge.
Baby, don't talk like this. I'll make it big."

"No one makes it big singing the blues. You got to do rap or gospel."

"Baby, Elmore James can hear you."

"No more Elmore James talk. He partied hard and died young."

"Big Joe Turner, Hound Dog Taylor, Sam Myers, Homesick James. Eddie
Burns. John Lee Hooker."

"Dead. All dead and no one even knows who they were."

"What about Robert Johnson, baby? He's still here. That Indian even
wrote a book about him being on the reservation in Washington. How bout
that? Robert Johnson on the rez. Why don't you go to Monroe with me
this weekend? No drugs, I promise. Minute I'm handed money, I'll give
it to you so you can run off to the mall and buy a pretty dress."

"You spend all your time reading books about blues men while I clean
toilets. I'm the one feeling blue. Nobody care about my blues."

"Baby, I care about your blues."

"Then clean this joint before I come home."

"You know I ain't lettin you clean our house."

"No, I gets to come home to a pig pen."

Tyler meant to start cleaning, but he picked up his guitar and started
singing Eddie Burns' "Making A Fool Out of Me." His voice merged with
his gliding fingers; people would be apprecating Tyler in Monroe, and
before long, he'd be booked in Chicago, New York, Memphis, maybe even
Europe. Tyler lit a joint, played a few more songs, then fell asleep on
the couch dreaming blues. Had the train not woken Tyler, he would have
still been on that couch when Latresha returned. He saw that mess and
knew it'd take a six pack to get the house loooking good. Tyler put his
coat on and left for the store.

"Damn, when did it start raining, Mrs. Brixie?"

"Don't be using foul language with me. It started raining a few hours
ago. Gonna be another ice storm tonight. Better get your groceries."

"I was just on my way to the store. I'm gonna stock up. You need
anything?"

"Get me a loaf of break and pint of skim milk. Wait here,
I'll get the money. You bring me back the change," she said handing
Tyler a dollar bill.

"I'll do that. Now, you git in your apartment and stay warm. I'll be
right back."

"Don't be spending my money on beer, Tyler. You know why we're getting
all this bad weather? God ain't happy with someone."

"Don't blame the ice storm on me, Mrs. Brixie. I'm gonna play gospel
this Sunday at church. You gonna be there?"

"Ain't I always there?"

"Well, God ain't mad at you, Mrs. Brixie."

"Hurry now. This rain is turning to sleet."

Tyler laughed at the dollar and wondered if Mrs. Brixie really thought
there'd be change. He grabbed the milk, bread, beer, and got in line.

"Nasty weather heading our way," said the old lady in front of him.

"Yes, Ma'am, it ain't looking good. God ain't happy with someone."

"Don't be blaming this ice on me!"

"It ain't you God's mad at. I can see that by looking at you."

"Quit flirting with me! It's you God's mad at. You better go home and
pray. Change your ways. We lose our power another week, I'll hunt you
down," she said storming out the door.

"You sure got a way with women, Tyler," the clerk laughed.

"Ain't like this when I'm singing. You coming down to the club tonight,
Billy?"

"I ain't leaving my couch. Ain't gonna be nobody at the club tonight."

"You's probably right. La Tresha will be glad I'm home."

"Don't count on that," Billy laughed.

"What you mean by that, Billy?"

"Nothing. Nothing. She probably likes it when she can sit on the
couch."

"You think she's seeing someone else?"

"Tyler, calm down, man. I don't mean nothing. You better walk home
before your hair starts turning to ice. It's getting cold out there."

Tyler opened a beer and headed home wondering if La Tresha was seeing
another man. When he saw her car home, Tyler stuck his head in the door
and yelled, "I'll be right back, baby. I've been helping Mrs. Brixie."
Then he hid his beer behind the bushes.

"Where's my change, Tyler?"

"Ain't no change, Mrs. Brixie. I paid thirty-seven cents of my own
money."

"You buy me fancy bread? I like Wonder Bread."

"Maybe you get a senior discount or something, but it cost me one
dollar and thirty-seven cents."

"Maybe God ain't mad at you, but I sure am," she said slamming the
door.

"God just tole me he ain't happy with you because of your bad manners,
Mrs. Brixie," Tyler mumbled walking home to one more angry woman.

"Tyler, you ain't cleaned nothing!"

"Baby, I've been running errands for Mrs. Brixie. I couldn't say no to
her without getting God mad, and I ain't gonna be responsible for no ice
storms."

"You and your excuses."

"Baby, you go take a nap. I'm gonna clean this house real purty."

Soon as La Tresha went to bed, Tyler grabbed another beer, cranked up
the stereo and started picking up the mess in the living room.

"Turn that damn music down so I can sleep!"

"Sorry, baby." Tyler worried there was another man. There certainly
had been other women, but he's a musician; it's what they have to do.
He went to the refrigerator, found a few carrots, an orka, and three
mushrooms. Soon as the skillet started popping with hot oil, Tyler
threw his diced vegetables in, wondering what else he could find to make
a romantic dinner for La Tresha. He steamed some rice, set the table,
and grabbed two cold beers from the bushes.

"Wake up, La Tresha. Dinner's made."

"Dinner?"

"Baby, you know I love you. Now come an eat."

La Tresha looked at the candlelit table and wondered if the storm would
knock the power out, thinking they may need to save these candles for an
emergency, but said nothing, hoping the good Lord would spare them with
this storm.

"I ain't never had sauteed okra like this before, Tyler."

"Me either. You like it?"

"It ain't bad."

"Neither are you, baby."

When the power went out, Tyler knew it was because God was doing him a
favor keeping it dark to cover up the mess he didn't clean, not letting
him go to the club playing music, but keeping him home with his woman.
"Baby, I gotta song for you." Tyler sang Taj Mahal's "Done Changed My
Way of Living", believing every word he sang, while La Tresha rested on
the dirty couch, set free by the storm, feeling lucky she fell in love
with one of the last real Delta bluesmen, even if she had to eat sautéed
okra; tonight she had her man at home singing the ice storm blues.

*

"Damn, when did it start raining, Mrs. Brixie?"

"Don't be using foul language with me. It started a few hours ago.
You play that guitar so loud, you cain't hear nuthin'."

"Knock on the wall if I get too noisy. You know how the music moves
me."

"I know how our landlord's gonna move you outta here. Even God can't
sleep. That's why we're getting another ice storm. He's mad at your,
Tyler."

"Don't blame the ice storm on me, Mrs. Brixie. I'm gonna play gospel
this Sunday at church. You gonna be there?" "Ain't I always there?"

"Yes you are. I was just on my way to the store. You need anything?"

"Get me a loaf of bread and pint of skim milk. Bring me back the
change," she said handing Tyler a dollar bill.

"I'll do that. Now, you get in your apartment and stay warm."

"Hurry now. This rain is turning to sleet."

Walking to Piggly Wiggly, Tyler thought about his gig at the club,
wondering if Slim Jim would finally show. Not much of a blues band
without a harp player. Tyler grabbed the milk, bread, coffee, and got
in line.

"Nasty weather heading our way," said the old lady in front of Tyler.

"Yes, Ma'am, it ain't looking good. God ain't happy with someone."

"Don't be blaming this ice storm on me! I teach Sunday School."
"You'se a fine lady, but He's mad at somebody."
"We lose our power another day and I'll hunt you down," she said
storming out the door.
"You sure got a way with women, Tyler," the clerk laughed.
"Ain't like this when I'm singing. You coming down to the club tonight,
Billy?"

"I ain't leaving my couch. Nobody gonna be at the club."

"You probably right. I won't be bringing home any money tonight."

"You better walk home before your hair starts turning to ice. It's
getting cold out there." Tyler knew being a musician wouldn't be easy,
but he also didn't think he'd have to pay so many dues just to play the
blues.

"Here's your food, Mrs. Brixie."

"Where's my change, Tyler?"

"Ain't no change. I paid forty-seven cents of my own money."

"You buy me that fancy bread? I like soft white bread," she said
slamming the door.

"God just told me he ain't happy with you because of your bad manners,"
Tyler mumbled kicking his frozen door open. Even if all his friends
stayed at home on their couches, Tyler knew he'd still be be going to
the club and belting the Ice Storm Blues tonight.

(photo by Nikita Cox)