Louis Collins: A Post-American Odyssey

Mae Pearl’s occupied the corner unit of a low brick strip mall. Gladice parked two spaces from the entrance and shut off the engine.

Savannah looked at the restaurant and then at Louis. “If you wanna back out, now’s the time.”

“To a restaurant? Don’t be ridiculous.”

She smirked. “You ain’t been in a place like this before, have you?”

“No.”

“Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

They got out of the van and walked to the door. Several customers looked up when Savannah led the group inside. A waitress in a black apron stopped near the counter with two glasses of iced tea on her tray.

“Y’all look like you lost,” the woman said.

“Nah, we’re good.” Savannah stopped two steps inside and looked toward the back without raising her voice. “Mae Pearl?”

A woman came through the bead curtain from the kitchen. She was broad-shouldered, with her hair wrapped in a burgundy scarf and flour on one forearm. She looked at Savannah first, then at the people behind her, and back at Savannah.

“Who are y’all?”

“Savannah Ellington.” She raised her chin toward Louis and the others. “And some friends.”

Mae Pearl’s eyes narrowed. “Marcus Ellington’s Savannah?”

“One and the same.”

“You know this a black-only restaurant, right?” Mae Pearl looked over the group. “We don’t serve their kind in here.”

Louis met her eyes. “We are not with the state.”

“Maybe not. But y’all ain’t welcome here either.”

“They’re with me,” Savannah said.

Mae Pearl stared at them for a moment. “Marcus know you’re here?”

“Course he does.”

Mae Pearl nodded once, wiped her hands on her apron, and gestured toward a table near the back. “Sit. I’ll get y’all some menus.”

“Such hospitality.” Gladice raised an eyebrow.

Mae Pearl’s eyes slid to her and narrowed. “You don’t like the welcome, you can leave.”

Gladice smiled. “I’m just impressed.”

Mae Pearl ignored her and turned back to the kitchen. Savannah led the group to the table.

“Let me do the talking,” she said, sitting with her back to the wall.

“Why? Because you’re so good at it?” Willa looked at her. “Or because you think you’re the only one who knows how to survive here?”

Savannah gave her a cold look. “Both.”

“Great.” Willa looked away.

Mae Pearl returned with menus and a pitcher of tea. She set them on the table.

“What can I get y’all?”

“We’re looking for Darnell Barlow,” Savannah said.

Mae Pearl shook her head. “He ain’t here.”

“We know. We were told he left for lunch. We need to find him.”

Mae Pearl put the menus down. “Why?”

“Business.”

“What kind of business?”

Savannah leaned forward. “The kind that pays.”

Mae Pearl studied her for a moment, then looked at the others. “Y’all in trouble?”

“Always,” Louis said.

Mae Pearl’s gaze settled on him. “You talk too much for a white boy in this part of town.”

“I’m aware.”

She turned to Savannah. “Since when does Marcus trust his daughter with a bunch of white folks?”

“Since he needs them to get me out of this country,” Savannah said.

Mae Pearl’s expression shifted. “Out? Like, out-out?”

“Out-out.”

Mae Pearl looked around, then leaned closer. “Where?”

“Virginia.”

Mae Pearl whistled softly.

“That’s a big play, girl.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Savannah said. “Now, where’s Barlow at?”

Mae Pearl shook her head. “I ain’t seen him since lunch. Now, can I get y’all something to eat, or y’all just gonna waste my table?”

“We’ll eat.” Savannah opened her menu.

“What’s the special?” Gladice asked.

“Fried pork chops, collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, and sweet tea.”

“Sounds good.” Gladice closed her menu. “I’ll have that.”

“Me too,” Savannah said.

“The rest of you?” Mae Pearl looked at the others.

“Do you have halal food?” Donya asked.

Mae Pearl stared at her. “Honey, what’s halal?”

“She doesn’t eat pork,” Angelique said.

“Alright then.” Mae Pearl looked at Donya. “I can make you a fried chicken sandwich. The chicken ain’t got no pork in it. And I can give you a side of black-eyed peas and cornbread. That’s it.”

Donya’s face lit up. “I will have that, please.”

“Good.” Mae Pearl looked at the others. “What about y’all?”

“I’ll have the chicken sandwich,” Angelique said.

“Same,” Louis said.

Willa looked at the menu. “I’ll have the chicken-fried steak with gravy and a side of fried okra. I will also take an unsweetened iced tea with extra lemon, no ice. And I want my cornbread toasted with butter on the side. And the gravy on the side too. In a separate bowl. With a spoon. And I want the chicken-fried steak on its own plate. Not touching anything else. Please.”

Mae Pearl stared at her.

“Child, you’re in the wrong place.”

“I’m sorry,” Willa said. “But I have specific dietary needs.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Mae Pearl took the menus. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She walked away.

Gladice looked at Willa. “You’re impossible.”

Willa shrugged. “I like what I like.”

“Why would you order chicken-fried steak in a place like this?” Savannah asked.

“It’s a classic Southern dish.” Willa looked at her. “I want to try the local cuisine, since we’re stuck here.”

“Local cuisine?” Savannah raised an eyebrow. “Honey, this ain’t a culinary tour. This is survival.”

“I know.” Willa looked away. “But I still want to enjoy my last meal, in case we die later.”

“We’re not going to die,” Louis said.

“We’ll see,” Willa said.

Donya leaned toward Louis. “I am not sure if I should eat the chicken sandwich. The chicken might not be halal. But I am also very hungry. And I don’t want to be rude.”

“It’s okay, Donya. You can eat it.” Louis smiled. “Allah will forgive you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Louis nodded. “I am sure.”

Donya smiled. “Okay.”

Angelique looked at him. “Since when did you become an expert on Islamic law?”

“I’m not.” Louis shrugged. “But I think Donya needs some comfort right now.”

“Right.” Angelique smiled. “And you’re the comfort provider now.”

“Somebody has to be,” Louis said.

“Can we focus on the mission?” Savannah said. “We still need to find Barlow.”

“How are we going to do that?” Angelique asked. “Mae Pearl doesn’t seem very helpful.”

“She will be,” Savannah said. “Once she trusts us.”

“And how do we get her to trust us?” Gladice asked.

“By engaging with the community on its own terms,” Willa said solemnly. “Centering local voices, respecting the cultural labor behind the food, and making a conscious effort not to reproduce the racial and class hierarchies that make outsiders assume they’re entitled to judge everything.”

Savannah stared at her.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It’s from a paper I read.” Willa adjusted her glasses. “On the politics of food in marginalized communities.”

Gladice burst out laughing. Louis and Angelique giggled too. Donya looked confused.

“Never mind,” Savannah said. “Just try not to be weird.”

“I’ll try,” Willa said.

Mae Pearl returned with a tray of food and a pitcher of tea. She set the plates on the table.

“There. Y’all eat up now.” She looked at Willa. “I put your gravy in a bowl, like you asked. And your cornbread on a separate plate. Happy now?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Mae Pearl rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She looked at Savannah. “You need anything else, just ask.”

“Alright.”

Mae Pearl returned to the kitchen. They started eating. Louis took the first bite of his chicken sandwich, and it was better than he expected. The chicken was crisp and juicy, the bun was soft, and the lettuce was fresh. The tea was sweet, just the way he liked it.

“I might forget why we are here.” Gladice nodded as she chewed a piece of pork chop.

“I doubt that.” Savannah took a bite of mac and cheese. “But I’m glad you’re enjoying it. That’s the point of a place like this.”

“Good food to forget bad times.” Angelique nodded. “I like that.”

“So how do we get Mae Pearl to talk?” Louis asked. “She seems… protective.”

“She is,” Savannah said. “She knows everyone. But she doesn’t trust strangers. Especially not white strangers.”

“So how do we change her mind?”

“By showing her we’re not a threat,” Savannah said. “And by showing her we have something in common.”

“Like what?” Angelique asked.

“Like a common enemy,” Savannah said. “The state.”

Before anyone could answer, the bell on the door chimed. A white woman in a khaki uniform and a white armband with a Blood Drop Cross entered, followed by a younger woman with a clipboard.

“Can I help y’all?”

The uniformed woman looked down her nose at Mae Pearl. “We’re conducting an inspection. We have reports of unsanitary conditions and code violations.”

Mae Pearl’s jaw tightened. “My kitchen’s clean.”

“We’ll be the judge of that.”

The uniformed woman started toward the kitchen, then looked around the restaurant. Her eyes stopped on Louis and the women.

“Who are you?”

For a second, Louis thought of the papers in his pocket and whether she would ask to see them. He hesitated, then met her eyes and kept his voice steady.

“George Harris. Equipment sales.”

He glanced around the table. Angelique and Gladice looked back at him. Willa met his eyes for a moment, then pushed her chair back and stood.

“And I’m Mary Wilson, senior reporter for Richmond Times. I’m here for a story on Southern life. Mr. Harris is our local equipment contact. The rest are my colleagues. Since you are here, may I ask your name and position?”

The uniformed woman turned back from the kitchen doorway. “That is none of your business.”

“I’m sorry.” Willa stepped forward. “But people of Virginia are very curious about our friendly neighbor and closest trading partner. So if you could just give me your name and position, I will put in a good word for you in my article.”

The uniformed woman gave a smile. “The Republic of Virginia? That’s good. Tell your editor, Virginia has always been a friend to the Holy States, and we are doing the Lord’s work here.”

“Of course.” Willa took out a notepad from her jacket. “And may I ask your name?”

“Officer Miller. County food-safety inspector.”

“Nice to meet you, Officer Miller. Your work is very important. Especially in times like this,” Willa said. “But I can’t help but notice that violence has increased in the Holy States since the restoration of the Jim Crow laws. What do you think about that?”

The uniformed woman’s face reddened. “This is the will of the Lord. We are restoring order.”

Willa took a pencil from the table and wrote something down. “County food-safety inspector Miller endorses racial violence as part of God’s plan,” she murmured. “Says restored Jim Crow laws are necessary to maintain public order.”

The uniformed woman stared at Willa.

“Give me that pencil,” she said.

“What?”

“The pencil. And that piece of paper.”

Louis stood. “That’s enough.”

Officer Miller turned toward him. “Excuse me?”

“You are a food inspector. Know your place.” Louis’s face was hard. “And you are embarrassing our country in front of foreign press.”

Officer Miller’s jaw tightened. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

“Of course I do. I’m a patriot. I care about our international reputation. And you’re hurting it,” Louis said. “Maybe your husband should teach you some manners, instead of letting a woman like you speak for our country.”

Officer Miller’s face reddened. Her eyes moved from Louis to Willa’s notepad.

“My husband knows exactly how I conduct myself, Mr. Harris. And he is a proud servant of the Lord.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Louis smiled. “But are you sure he’s proud of a woman who brings shame upon our country?”

Officer Miller took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She then turned to Mae Pearl.

“You can count on a visit from my team next week. A very thorough one.”

She turned and strode out of the restaurant. The younger woman with the clipboard gave them one last look, then followed Officer Miller out.

The door closed. A silence fell over the restaurant. Mae Pearl stared at Louis and the others. Then she let out a big laugh.

“Lord have mercy.” Mae Pearl wiped a tear from her eye. “Y’all are full of surprises.”

“We try,” Louis said.

Mae Pearl shook her head. “You either really are who you say you are, or you’re the best damn actors I’ve ever seen.” She looked at Willa. “And you, girl, got some brass on you.”

“I try,” Willa said.

Mae Pearl looked at them, then at the empty doorway.

“That bitch Miller been trying to shut me down for months,” she said. “Good to see someone put her in her place.”

Louis smiled. “Glad I could help.”

Mae Pearl nodded. She studied them for a moment, then leaned in.

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. But not here.”

She gestured toward the kitchen. “Follow me.”

They followed her through the bead curtain into the kitchen. A young woman in a hairnet and apron was washing dishes at a large stainless steel sink. She looked up, her eyes wide at the sight of the group.

“It’s okay, Lula,” Mae Pearl said. “They’re with me.”

Lula nodded and went back to the dishes.

Mae Pearl led them to a small office in the back of the kitchen. She closed the door and turned to them.

“Alright,” she said. “Let’s talk.”

“Where’s Darnell Barlow?” Louis asked.

Mae Pearl leaned against the desk. “He’s in trouble. That’s where he is.”

“What kind of trouble?” Savannah asked.

“The kind that gets you killed.” Mae Pearl looked at her. “The Klan got him.”

“How?” Louis asked.

“I saw him get grabbed outside. Right after he left my place,” Mae Pearl said. “They pushed him into a pickup. Three men. One of them I recognized.”

“Who?” Savannah asked.

“Sheriff Mallory. He buys pie for his mama here on Sundays and doesn’t look me in the eye when he does it. He’s a real piece of work.”

“The Klan and the sheriff work together?” Angelique asked.

“Always have,” Mae Pearl said. “But they been more open about it lately.”

“So where did they take him?” Louis asked.

“I’d say the county police station.” Mae Pearl shrugged. “Or the woods. Hard to tell.”

“What do we do?” Gladice asked.

Mae Pearl looked at them. “You get out of here. That’s what you do. You can’t save him. You can’t take on the whole sheriff’s department and the Klan.”

“We need him,” Savannah said. “He’s our way out of this country.”

Mae Pearl sighed. “Then you’re in deeper trouble than I thought.”

“Thank you for the information.” Angelique met her gaze. “We will see what we can do.”

Mae Pearl nodded.

“Good luck, y’all.” She opened the door. “You’re gonna need it.”

They went back to the table. The plates were still there, half-eaten.

“Are we really going to try to save him?” Donya asked.

“I think we have to,” Louis said.

“You think he’s alive?” Gladice asked.

“I don’t know,” Willa said. “But we can’t just leave him. He’s our only way out.”

“So what do we do?” Angelique asked.

Louis looked at Savannah. “Where’s the police station?”

She shook her head. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“That’s suicide.”

“We’re not going to storm the station,” Louis said. “We’ll see what the situation is. Then we’ll make a plan.”

Willa nodded. “Good. I’m tired of waiting for men to solve problems anyway.”

“I like that,” Gladice said.

“Of course you do,” Willa said.

“Can we at least finish our food?” Donya asked. “I’m still hungry.”

Louis smiled. “Sure. We’ll finish our food, then we’ll go save our smuggler.”

“Can we talk about what happened here?” Angelique asked. “About Officer Miller. That was a risky move.”

“It was necessary,” Louis said.

“I know.” Angelique looked down. “But that could have gone badly.”

“It didn’t.” Louis reached over and took her hand. “We’re fine.”

“For now.” Willa looked away. “The next one might not be so easily intimidated.”

“Says someone who loves to intimidate people herself,” Gladice laughed.

“I don’t intimidate.” Willa adjusted her glasses. “I state facts.”

“Right.” Gladice winked. “And people happen to get scared when you do that.”

“That’s their problem.” Willa took a bite of her steak. “Not mine.”

Donya looked at Louis. “I was scared. But I think Allah was with us. He helped us.”

“Sure,” Willa said. “And the fact that Officer Miller didn’t have a backup team with her had nothing to do with it.”

“Allah works in mysterious ways.” Donya looked away. “You’ll see.”

“We need to be more cautious,” Angelique said. “Officer Miller might report what happened. The state might get suspicious.”

“Let her report.” Louis took a bite of the sandwich. “It will take them time to process it. We’ll be long gone by then.”

“I hope so.” Angelique ate the last piece of her chicken sandwich. “This is a very good sandwich by the way.”

“Mae Pearl’s a good cook,” Savannah said.

“Yeah.” Gladice wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Too bad we can’t stay for dessert.”

“I think we have enough sugar for today,” Willa said.

“I disagree,” Gladice said.

“I think we should go,” Angelique said. “Before Mae Pearl gets in trouble for helping us.”

“Right.” Louis stood up and put several fifty euro notes on the table. “Let’s go.”