Buying a Ticket
- Buying a Ticket
Cave Canem: A Special Section
He only asked us colored kids and only when we were without our parents, his teeth hanging smoked-dulled behind the ticket window. We could save ourselves “15 whole cents if ya’ll sit up in the balcony.” Unsaid, his eyes
and phoney smile added, andnot stain my place or offendmy white customers. Mister, I used to think, if we five, well-mannered, very polite, raised-right,Sunday-go-to-meeting pressedand dressed, on our best behaviour
children of Mr. and Mrs. T could,by our presence, stain this cruddyold place, well it wasn’t possiblefor anybody not to. But, taught to respect my elders, I never did say nothing like that, though I always hated him for making us
feel, somehow, dirty. Every now and then, when we were broke or just plain greedy, I’d let us all get cokes and candy with the extra money we saved from sitting in the smelly back, up high. Most times, out of spite or stubbornness
on my part, I would lie and dare the others to contradict me, tell him, “Sorry, Mister, we can’t. See, [End Page 998] the littlest one here just about blind. We have to sit all the way up front. My momma say so.” Then he would get all mean and indignant, slam
any change due us down on the counter, or try to cheat us. Once he accused me of lying and kept our change. After that we always stopped first at the corner store to get our treats, and I always make sure I had only exact change.
Valerie Jean, author of Woman Writing a Letter, received the MFA degree in poetry writing at the University of Maryland, College Park, and is a writing instructor there. Her poems have been published in Paterson Literary Review, Black American Literature Forum, The Missouri Review, River Styx, Gargoyle, and other periodicals.
