Page 32 of Wings of Ebony
One Year Ago
“Now, don’t you answer the door for nobody even if you know ’em,” she’d said, slipping her arm into the second sleeve. “That door stays closed. Any trouble out there, you just mind ya’ business.”
“Not even the cops?”
“Damn sho’not the cops.” She pulls me into a hug. “You crazy? Can’t nobody know y’all up in here all night without me. That’d get us in so much trouble, get y’all taken away. You need anything, Ms. Leola’s phone number on the fridge.”
The door clicks shut.
I hate doing overnights without Moms, but it’s so normal these days. I set out Tasha’s medicine. She needs another dose in an hour,then a different one a couple of hours after that. Alternating the medicine, careful to give her the exact amount, no mistakes.
I set my phone alarm to wake me up every few hours through the night. My study notes for my test tomorrow glare at me from the table. Studying ain’t happening. Not tonight. Maybe in the morning. I keep moving down the hallway.
Tasha’s curled up on Moms’s bed under a yellow blanket. The ratty collar of her favorite T-shirt peeks from under her chin. It’s one of Moms’s old ones; used to be orange, now it’s peach. It’s worn out, but Tasha loves it. And any time she’s sick shehasto wear it until she’s well again.
I chuckle, sliding in bed beside her. The sheets are chilly and gooseprickles dance on my skin. I shimmy closer to her warmth. She’s so hot, but it’s almost cozy.
Before Tasha came along, when I was sick like this, I would lie herewishingMoms could be here, clutching the phone, scared to death of being home alone. I slip an arm around Tasha’s head and stroke a few soaked strands of hair. Moms always preaching about how building a future requires sacrifice and sacrifice ain’t never easy.
Shit, sacrifice hurts.
Sacrifice kills.
But it’s what you do with the pain, Moms would say.
Tasha nestles in to me and I hug around her tighter. “Momma should be off work for good on the weekends soon,” I whisper in her ear. She groans. “Maybe we can go to the mall, walk around or something. All three of us.”
Her eyes roll in their sockets, but she doesn’t speak. Is the medicine even working? The damp towel across her forehead is ’bout hotas her head. Probably should change it. I step into the hallway and turn toward the bathroom.
That’s when it happens.
“R-rooty!” The front door bursts open and Moms’s voice is strained, higher pitched than it should be.
“Momma?” I step into the hallway and catch a glimpse of her coming inside. It’s dark, but I can make out her earrings and necklace, the same ones she always wears, and her eyes—wide. So wide—nearly double in size. A chill ripples through me like ice fills my bones.
“Y-you forget something, Ma?”Moms isn’t forgetful.
That’s when I hear it.
Pop.
My knees pound the floor, crawling back to the room.
I know that sound. Everyone ’round here knows that sound.
Pop.
“T, wake up!” I pull her awake and snatch her to the floor, hands glued around her mouth.Oof.She’s so heavy and out of it. I pull hard, tugging, dragging with every bit of my strength.
Pop. Pop.
The shots are fainter, clouded by muffled voices. My hands are shaking, but I can’t feel them. I can’t feel anything.
Wedged in Moms’s closet around piles of junk, I fold my knees against my thudding chest, straining to shut the closet door. A hook and padlock hangs on the inside of the door frame. Never noticed that before. My clumsy hands work it closed and click it to lock.
Tasha’s burning against my chest, and I squeeze her. I tell her everything will be okay. I tell her Moms will be fine. I tell her not to worry, I’ll keep her safe.
I tell her every lie I wish was true.
