What Lies Beyond the Veil(Of Flesh & Bone #1)(13)

But here at Granddaddy’s house, this ain’t really Nia’s room. We’re back to sharing, just like I wanted. I smirk and walk in without knocking. Nia is laying on the bed with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at the ceiling. At first, I think she’s listening to her Walkman, like usual. But as I get closer, I notice her headphones sprawled cross the dresser. And Nia just laying there, listening to nothin’.

“Granddaddy said we gotta clean up,” I announce as I plop down on the edge of the bed. Nia don’t say nothin’ yet, just keeps staring at the ceiling.

“Nia, you hear me?”

Finally, Nia turns her head toward me. I expect her to look annoyed, but really, she looks kinda sad. “Clean what?” she asks, propping herself up on her elbow.

I shrug. “He ain’t say. I think he just mad cause we fighting.” I wait for Nia to say something, maybe offer to make up, but she don’t.

“Okay,” is all she says, before laying back down.

“Okay?”

Nia sighs. “Go ask him what we gotta clean, okay?”

“Fine,” I say. I don’t even know what I want from her, but I know it’s more than this. I go back to the living room and find Granddaddy still in front of the TV but looking half-sleep.

“Granddaddy,” I whisper. He don’t move. “Granddaddy,” I try again a little louder. He moves around a bit but keeps his eyes closed. “Granddaddy,” I practically yell, and his eyes pop open, wide. He looks around for a second before his eyes finally focus on me.

“Kenyatta,” he says, before clearing his throat.

“What you want us to clean?” I ask, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

Granddaddy takes his time looking around. I don’t think he even thought this through before deciding we needed to clean up.

“Ain’t yawl kids ever had to clean up before?” he says with a scowl.

I shrug. Truth is, Daddy never made us do much cleaning around the house. Whenever he was home, Daddy would do all the cleaning. He was the only person I ever saw who loved cleaning like it was something fun to do. He would always start by turning on music, and the music would always match his mood. When he was in a good mood, Michael Jackson or Prince would blare from the little CD player on top of the fridge, and Daddy would twirl around in the kitchen with his broom, trying out all his best moves on his favorite girls. On bad days, it would be Earth, Wind & Fire or the Isley Brothers singing sad love songs with Daddy quietly humming along. When Daddy was gone, Momma would clean, but with no music.

“Start in the kitchen,” Granddaddy grumbles. “The cleaning stuff is under the sink.” And with that, he lifts his feet up on the coffee table and settles in for another TV nap.

I take my time gettin’ back to the room, cause I don’t feel like dealing with Nia’s attitude. I know she won’t be happy with Granddaddy’s vague instructions—instructions that will probably keep us cleaning for the rest of the day. This time, when I come into the room, Nia is standing up and looking out the window. The look on her face—a mix of missing something and tryna run away from something—makes me wonder if maybe me and Nia feel the same bout Momma leaving. But when she turns and looks at me, I’m suddenly too scared to ask.

“He said start in the kitchen,” I say, and Nia nods. I follow her to the kitchen, where we pull Ajax, bleach, and sponges out from under the sink. I find a bucket in the very back, and Nia fills it up with hot water, dish detergent, and a little bleach. I guess she was paying more attention to Daddy on cleaning days than I was.

“You wash the dishes,” Nia says, “and I’ll start on the floors.” I nod, and we get to work. What feels like hours later, after the sun has started to disappear from the sky and Granddaddy has fallen asleep and woken up three times, we finish. Between the two of us, we washed dishes, cleaned countertops, windows, and floors, and organized everything in the refrigerator and cabinets. Even Granddaddy would have to smile when he saw all the work we did.

“Done!” Nia announces with a smile, and I smile back. “We never cleaned that much before, have we?”

“Never,” I respond, laughing along with her. I figure in both our minds we see Daddy sweeping the floors with his microphone broom. “And now I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” says Nia, and then in a whisper, “Do you think he’s even gon’ feed us?” She crosses her eyes and puckers her lips to make a funny face, pointed right at Granddaddy, still in front of the TV.

I shrug, covering my mouth to hide my laughter.

“Granddaddy,” Nia yells in a singsong voice.

Freshly woken up, Granddaddy responds quickly this time. “Nia?”

Nia looks at me and rolls her eyes. I’m holding my laughing mouth with both hands now and can feel the air pushing out through my nose. “We’re all done cleaning. May we please have dinner now?”

Granddaddy don’t know Nia well enough to know her fake sweet voice yet, so he sounds happy to hear her being so polite. “Gon’ and heat up some leftovers,” he replies proudly.

Nia sticks her finger in her mouth and mimics gagging, while she yells back to Granddaddy, “Okay, sounds delicious!”

I can’t take it anymore and let out a tiny snort, but luckily Granddaddy has turned the TV back up, so I don’t think he hears. While I start to put away all the cleaning stuff, Nia opens the refrigerator and begins taking out the pot of chili from yesterday. While she warms the pot on the stove, I sit down at the table and begin to count all the times Nia smiled today. I lose count at nine, but either way, it’s probably more than she’s smiled all summer so far.