The Delta Rain

The Delta Rain __________________________________________

“Soon now

they would

enter the Delta.”

—William Faulkner,

“Delta Autumn,”

Uncollected Stories

of William Faulkner __________________________________________

The Delta rain—the Delta rain. The constant grieving Delta rain. The envelope—with some money. That’s how I said goodbye to her—just give it to her I told Ike. I loved her—but… The rain against the window—I was on my way to Ole Miss. To see her brother—to confront him with what I knew. Why didn’t he tell me—why didn’t he tell me the truth? The truth about me—the truth about him? He looked just like her—they were twins. I was in love with her. I knew that then—I know that now. I’ve always realized it—I realize it even more now. Sitting here in this driving rain. I loved her—I loved them both. Both the Beauchamps… Sam Beauchamp—he’s a freshman at Ole Miss. All these years my best friend. Somehow or another I fell in love with his sister—we lived together the three of us. I loved her a lot—and she loved me. But then she told me—she told me the truth. The Delta rain—the Delta rain. He was like my brother—Samuel Worsham Beauchamp. Grandson of Lucas and Molly Beauchamp. He looked just like his sister—they were twins like day and night. We lived in Yoknapatawpha—down by the Tallahatchie. Down by the bridge—deep in the Swamp… Then one day he said he was going to run off to Chicago—he didn’t want to see me anymore. But I couldn’t help it—anymore than I could help loving his sister. Anymore than… Lucius Quintus…Lucius Quintus Carothers McCaslin and Eunice… It ran in the Family—twins. Twins like Uncle Buck and his brother Uncle Buddy—sons of old Carothers McCaslin…the slave Tomey’s Turl and his girlfriend Tennie Beauchamp…our families twisted together like magnolias and Spanish moss… It ran in the Family—the two families that were one. The Beauchamp family tree deep inside me—the McCaslin family tree deeper than deep. Both old family trees with gnarled roots deep in the Delta… The Delta rain—the Delta rain… Uncle Buck and Uncle Buddy—what would they think? They were for freedom—freedom for all the slaves. But what about me? Wasn’t I enslaved too? I didn’t feel free tho—I didn’t particularly feel emancipated and all that. Not now anyway…I felt totally enslaved now—no matter how I tried to repudiate it… This old Delta—it’s queered me good. I looked out the window—knowing all along what I didn’t want to know. What was there to know—that I didn’t know already? Didn’t I love her—didn’t she love me? Wasn’t that enough—wasn’t that enough? The Delta rain—the Delta rain. It came down hard—the highway was long and slick and dark. It was night—and I had to see him. I had to tell him what he already knew—what he already knew about me and him and her. I had to hear him say it—what his sister told me. I knew it was the truth—but I had to hear him say it… Funny how things work out—you think you know everything. But then all of a sudden—the Delta rain the delta rain. It was way back then—surely if there ever was a now it was then. The three of us—happy growing up together. Going thru high school—and all that stuff. Living together the way we did…without any rules. The days of patchouli—the days of incense and roses. Lying in bed together afterwards—listening to sitar music. Drifting thru the cabin—the bougainvillea. The smell of wisteria in her hair—the way he looked away from me… The Delta rain—the Delta rain. Finally telling me the truth. The rain—the rain. I was in love with her—I was in love with her. But the Delta rain—the Delta rain. I was in love with her—but I was more in love with her brother. I was more in love with him—her cute mulatto brother… The Delta rain—the Delta rain…