What Lies Beyond the Veil(Of Flesh & Bone #1)(32)

I turn to the closet and pull my new dress out the bag. Just a minute ago, I wanted to try it on and twirl. Seems like every time I get my hopes up bout something, another thing happens to remind me that even the good stuff is always tainted with bad. I hang my dress in the back of the empty closet. As I reach the door, I turn back to take one last look, but the flowers are already invisible in the shadows.



* * *





Night arrives the same way each time. A chill in the air I can’t quite call cold, even though it makes the little hairs on my arms stand straight. Fireflies lighting patterns I sometimes chase, but other times I simply watch. Different dinners cooking, blending together into one big smell that blankets the block. Then, the quiet. A gentle stillness that weaves its way through, til there’s nothin’ left but peace. Despite the dark, night is my favorite time of day.

I sit on the front porch with my new book in my lap, but tonight, I can’t read. I’m thinking bout how these days, seems like everybody I know is keeping secrets from me. I know Momma keeps secrets to protect me and Nia from bad stuff. That’s why she never told us why Daddy would leave the house in the middle of the night, even though I’d hear the squeaking screen door when he returned, and Momma’s shouted whispers soon after. I know Granddaddy is keeping secrets cause he ain’t sure how much stuff Momma wants us to know. Seems like all grown-ups lie to kids, just cause they can.

But Nia ain’t always used to hide stuff from me. Back when we used to be best friends, before she started trying so hard to act like a grown-up, all her secrets were mine. She’d whisper them in my ear at the dinner table, and we’d hide laughs between bites. I don’t know when exactly Nia started to act different, or why.

I chew my thumb and watch a baby caterpillar crawl cross the porch, then onto my ankle. One time, I tried to talk to Momma bout it, bout how Nia was acting different and not playing with me no more. But Momma kept sweeping without even looking up at me, only patting my head like I was a dog and saying, “She’s growing up, KB. It’s gon’ happen to you, too, one day.” The thing I ain’t understand then or now was why growing up had to mean Nia couldn’t be my friend no more.

“Kenyatta.” Granddaddy’s voice booms from inside. I pinch the caterpillar carefully and set it down on the porch before heading inside, where Granddaddy’s sittin’ in his usual place, in front of the TV. But the screen is blank and the house is quiet, cept the muffled sounds from outside. Crickets, flowing water, and a train in the distance. And even more distant, the drip-drip-drip of Nia taking a shower.

“Yes?” I tentatively open the door and step into the warm room. I hope he ain’t bout to make me explain wanting a dress that cost so much money. Or why me and Nia was split up when he found us. Granddaddy surprises me by tapping the space on the couch beside him with his calloused hand.

I join Granddaddy on the couch, but he don’t speak for a while. I wonder if he just called me over to keep him company, not to say anything. But then he starts to speak, not looking right at me but past me, like he’s worried bout what he’s gon’ say.

“The other day, you asked me bout your momma.” The sentence hangs in the air between us, with neither of us willing to go up and grab it, pull it back down. I ain’t think we would talk bout this again. Seems like Granddaddy ain’t really think it through, cause now he sits with nothin’ more to say. I peel dirt out from beneath my fingernails while I wait for him to say something else. I can’t think of nothin’ to count, so I just peel and peel. Finally, after seven fingernails, Granddaddy coughs and shifts his seat on the couch.

“I was mad when you asked bout where your momma was at,” he continues calmly, like all them fingernails wasn’t between his last sentence and this one. “But I shouldn’t be mad. Cause you got every right to know.”

“Know what?” I fidget in my spot, crossing and uncrossing my ankles.

Granddaddy looks at me now. “When your momma left you and your sister here in Lansing, it was cause she needed some time on her own. To figure some stuff out.”

“What stuff?” I ask quick, before he can say more.

“Well.” Granddaddy clears his throat. “Your daddy dying, it really took a toll on your momma. She’s a strong woman, bout the strongest person I know. But right now, she just needs a little extra help.”

“Cause she been so sad?” I think back on all of Momma’s smiles since Daddy died. Seemed like she was tryna make ’em look the same, but they wasn’t quite right.

Granddaddy nods. “Exactly,” he says. “Your momma is real sad. And she needs a little extra help to feel better right now. So that’s what she’s doing, getting help.” Granddaddy clears his throat, like he tryna decide what to say next. “I’m gon’ tell you the whole truth, Kenyatta, cause it seems like you old enough to know what’s going on. Okay?”

I nod so fast I make myself dizzy.

“Your momma is in something called an inpatient facility, where she sees a psychotherapist to help her deal with her depression. That’s what it’s called, the type of sadness your momma is dealing with. Depression. It’s not just like regular sadness. Depression can make you angry as much as it can make you sad. And it was making your momma feel so tired and anxious that she felt scared bout what would happen, so she knew she needed some help. She needed some time away, to focus on nothing but getting better.”