Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 714(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“But she said that…” Mama points at me like I’m a stranger. “She said that John was dead.”
“It’s okay. Everything’s okay,” Aunt Geneva soothes her. “Let’s go to your room and lie down.”
“You’ll lay down with me?” Mama asks, her voice hushing even as her eyes remain wild and searching.
“I will. Just like old times,” Aunt Geneva promises, pulling Mama to stand. “Remember what Grammy used to say when it was storming?”
“She said it’s coming up a cloud.” Mama chuckles, sniffing. “And when it was raining, but the sun was still shining, she’d say the devil’s beating his wife.”
Aunt Geneva loops her arm through Mama’s, subtly directing their shuffling steps down the hall. “And remember they made us turn out all the lights when it was storming? And unplug everything?”
“And we had to just wait till the storm passed over. And it was dark.” Mama looks to Aunt Geneva for confirmation. “Wasn’t it?”
“It was dark, so we played bid whist with candles,” Aunt Geneva says.
Mama drops her head to Aunt Geneva’s shoulder. “You cheated.”
“Me?” Aunt Geneva squeaks. “Daddy cheated. You know he always cheated at cards.”
“He did.” Mama’s chuckle drifts down the stairs. “Ma would say, Now, Mo.”
“You know better than that,” the two sisters finish in unison, laughing in harmony.
It’s quiet for a few seconds, and my ears strain to catch more of their conversation. Finally my mother’s voice comes softer, barely audible.
“Sissy, I’m gon’ be all right?” Her words float on the air as uncertain as a feather tossed in a tornado. My heart, still trembling and fragile from watching my mother relive my father’s death, from reliving it myself, shatters. Hot tears burn my eyes and I have to cover my mouth to catch a sob. It’s not fair. None of it is fair, and my rage and my sorrow run together down my face.
“Betty, I’m right here with you, and you’ll be all right,” Aunt Geneva says, and I don’t understand how her voice doesn’t shake with tears.
A few minutes later, Aunt Geneva comes back downstairs to find me still standing by the window.
“I forgot,” I whisper. “The doctor said don’t argue, don’t contradict. Redirect to calm her down, but I just… froze and forgot it all when she said Daddy was still alive.”
“It happens,” Aunt Geneva says, bending to retrieve the grocery bags from the floor. “We not gonna get everything right and we won’t remember everything. You’ll remember next time.”
Next time?
I don’t want there to be a next time. Not another time when Mama relives Daddy’s death in a cruel trick her brain plays on her heart. There will be a next time, though, and with the advice from the doctors and from Aunt Geneva still ringing in my head, I promise myself next time I’ll be better prepared.
CHAPTER 19
MAVERICK
Me: You there, Hendrix?
I replied to her text message about the trip to Colorado almost an hour ago, but the message seems to be unread. I asked how she was doing, how her visit home was going, and she never responded. I should leave it there. It’s none of my business really.
But I’m coming to the end of doing what I should do when it comes to Hendrix Barry.
Fuck it.
Pausing on the beach during a quick afternoon walk, I pick up the phone and dial her number.
I’m about to hang up after the third ring, but she answers.
“Mav?” Her voice comes over husky, heavy.
“Yeah, it’s me. You didn’t answer my text message,” I say, and it sounds lame in my own ears because why should she? She doesn’t have to, but she always has before and I was concerned. “Just thought I’d check on you.”
“You mean about the trip?” she rasps and sniffs.
“Are you… have you been crying, Hendrix?”
“Shit,” she whispers, and it’s a fragile sound, barely held together. “Let’s talk later. I—”
“Hey, I’m sure you have friends you can talk to about things, but I… if it’s about your mom, with you being home, I might understand. If I’m overstepping—”
“You’re not,” she says, her breath hitching before she steadies her voice and goes on. “Not overstepping, I mean. And it is about my mom. It’s just been harder than I even thought it would be. She had an episode and I… Hold on.”
She mutes for a few seconds before returning, bringing with her the sound of a few cars passing by and a bird chirping in the background.
“I stepped out on the porch to talk,” she says. “What’s that sound in the background? Where are you?”
“On my beach.” I survey the ocean, more serene that it was earlier this morning when I came out to surf. “I’d been at my desk all day. Just needed to move a little, but tell me what’s going on with you there in North Carolina. You good?”
“Not at all.” She lets out a tired sigh. “I just mishandled one of Mama’s meltdowns really badly. Like I know better. I wasn’t thinking.”