Before the Ever After(5)

That this was the last night of all of our lives.

And maybe we were a little bit excited for some kind of explosion.

We were only ten then, and I guess when you’re a little kid like that, some part of you just believes

that no matter what happens, you’re gonna be safe.

If the end of time comes, Daniel said, we had us some good years together. I’ll always remember y’all.

We didn’t know what was coming.

We didn’t even think it was strange that my daddy was in his room with the door closed instead of in his chair in the TV room, watching videos of football games.

But when he came into our room and started yelling about the loud music,

we all froze.

Who are these boys, anyway? he said, frowning at Ollie, Darry and Daniel,

who he’d known practically forever.

At first we thought he was kidding. I said Daddy. Stop playing.

Then he said Do I look like I’m playing?

and left the room,

slamming the door so hard,

the whole room shook.

After that, we all just went to bed.

Didn’t stay up to say Happy New Year.

Didn’t try to wait to see if the world was gonna end.

My daddy had never yelled at us kids.

So in some kind of way,

the world as we’d always known it had already ended.





January 1, 2000


Was your dad drunk last night? Darry whispered.

We were all sitting in the kitchen mixing cereal: Kix and Cap’n Crunch and Froot Loops and some bad organic one

my mom tried to sneak in with the others.

My dad doesn’t drink.

Maybe it was drugs, Daniel said.

People get caught up sometimes.

Ollie looked at me, and I stared down at my bowl.

My dad doesn’t do drugs either. Y’all know that.

He doesn’t even like those shots

they give him to help when he gets hurt.

Nobody likes a shot, Ollie said. Not even football players.

And they don’t even really care about pain. Anyway, he was just messing with us. He got y’all good!

Ollie looked at me. And smiled.

C’mon, man! I knew he was just playing, Darry said.

He took a mouthful of cereal.

No you didn’t. Your eyes got all big! Ollie said.

He wasn’t playing, Daniel said. Something’s going on.

Nah, he was playing, Darry said. He almost had me too.

I swear, he almost had me.





Like We Used to Do on Fridays


Right after school on Friday I ask Ollie and Darry and Daniel

if they wanna come to my house

and throw the ball around and stuff, maybe play some video games, watch a movie, whatnot.

Your dad gonna be there? Daniel asks.

And is he feeling any better?

They all kinda look at me

kinda look at each other

kinda look at the ground.

I shrug.

Well, he’s not yelling anymore, I say.

I’m kinda joking but

nobody laughs.

I don’t tell them that the quiet in our house is like a bruise. Silent.

Painful.

We’re standing in the schoolyard, and most of the cars picking up kids are gone. Ollie—well, he walks home most days.

Daniel rides his bike.

Darry gets picked up by his dad but his dad’s usually running late.

Used to be I said my dad was home and people would come running to my house.

Now it feels like they’re trying to run away.

Seems like he’s going through some things, Daniel says.

He unlocks his bike from the rack near the playground.

I gotta get home now, but I got you if you ever want to talk.

My mama’s on me to clean my room, Ollie says.

I’ll come by with her tomorrow maybe.

Darry, he just shrugs. Says Wish I could.

It starts to drizzle. Starts to get colder too. Daniel shivers.

I say It’s cool, put my backpack on my shoulders. Watch them all walk the way I’m not walking. Wonder if our Fridays together are some used-to-be thing now.

I’m good, I say. But it’s mostly a whisper.

And mostly not true.

See y’all, I say.

They all say Later, ZJ.

Walk their way and I walk mine.

Home from school is only eight blocks. The blocks aren’t that long to walk. Walking them alone on a Friday isn’t the worst thing.

There’s worse stuff.

Like the rain coming down faster now and no hood on my jacket.

Water pouring down the back of my neck.

Above me, a sky full of clouds.





Deep Water


My grandma calls on Saturday night, asks me about school

and when we’re coming to visit her—

Soon, I hope. I hold the phone close to my ear, her voice so clear and soft, it makes me think of everything and everyone I love.

She lives near Nana B, my dad’s mom, in a house that has windows all around it and a pool that she only dips her feet in

because you know I don’t like deep water, my grandmother always says.

But the pool isn’t deep. When I stand in it, the water only comes up to my chest.

I like being close to pools, my grandma says, not in them.