What Lies Beyond the Veil(Of Flesh & Bone #1)(43)

Soon as we done with our breakfast, Granddaddy stands and clears his dishes, then says, “Time to go!” Me and Nia clean the table and take the dishes to the sink. While Nia washes ’em, I tiptoe over to the stove and creep open the lid of the greens to sneak a glimpse inside the pot. All the leaves that were once floating up at the top, green and crunchy-looking, are now soft and dark. Nothin’ like the greens last night. Nia grabs the corn from the fridge while Granddaddy grabs the pot of greens and the keys that hang by the front door. We are ready to go.



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At home with Momma and Daddy, we ain’t ever really celebrate the Fourth of July. The last time I can remember, I must’ve been bout six or seven. Daddy came home from work that day with an armload of groceries. He ain’t usually work much but had just started a new job at the Wiggly Pig Market down the street from our house. Momma was so happy when he started that job that she laughed and laughed while Daddy played music from the stereo and spin’t her around.

They probably gave Daddy a discount on the food, cause he came home with more bags than I had ever seen from the market. And when I looked inside, there were four different kinds of meat—chicken, ribs, sausages, burgers—enough for a feast. In the other bags, we had bread, buns, ketchup, mustard, corn (the kind in a can), baked beans with brown sugar, and two packs of Kool-Aid (grape, my favorite, and tropical punch for Nia). I hugged Daddy so hard around his neck when I saw all the food. Mostly cause I could tell he had made Momma happy.

Me and Nia put all the food away in the cupboards, while Momma cleaned the kitchen and Daddy started the grill. I joined him in our tiny backyard to watch. The slab of cement where our grill rested was too small and sloping downward, so Daddy had to keep a brick under one leg of the grill’s rusted frame. I sat still, watching as he assembled the black coals, then turned them into fire. I started to ask Daddy how he made it happen, but not knowing made it feel like magic.

Once the fire was burning, we all sat in the living room together. Daddy pulled out our old deck of cards, still with jokers standing in for the missing two of clubs and jack of diamonds. Usually, cards was just our thing, me and Daddy. But this day, we all took turns playing go fish and tunk. Then me and Daddy showed Nia how to play speed. When it was time for me and Nia to play against each other, I remembered what Daddy taught me: Sometimes, when you wanna speed up, you gotta slow down first. I stacked the cards in my hand each time I pulled, and by the end, I had one card left and Nia had almost a full deck. When the card I needed showed up, I threw down the card in my hand and yelled, Speed! Nia ain’t look so happy to lose, but when I found Daddy watching me from cross the room, the smile on his face was the biggest I ever seen. Later, I got to sit in Momma’s lap while Nia and Daddy played. Momma even let me play with her hair, twisting it into tiny braids and then letting it go. When I looked around our cramped but comfortable living room, we finally looked like one of them families on TV.

That day was one of the best we had. Usually, our good days would turn bad at some point. But not that day. Daddy kept grilling, Momma kept dancing, Nia kept playing, and I kept a smile on my face that lasted a whole day long. We ate enormous plates of grilled food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We played cards and listened to music. At the hottest part of the day, we sat outside on the porch and Daddy surprised us all by grabbing the water hose and spraying us with icy-cold water. When Momma ran in the house to get away from him, he ran in after her, water hose and all. Me and Nia watched, surprised, as our momma and daddy ran around the house yelling and making a big mess like kids. Like they wasn’t worried bout nothin’.

That night, we sat on the porch with plastic cups of sugary Kool-Aid. The air was still thick but finally gettin’ cooler with a breeze. Up and down the street, families that looked like ours did the same things; talking and laughing and living. For once, it was a real neighborhood. Nobody was shooting guns or fighting or running from loud police sirens. It was peace.

At some point, Daddy snuck inside the house and came back with a brown paper bag. Inside, we found fireworks! Not a whole lot, but more than I’d ever seen in my life. He pulled out two sparklers, which he lit and handed to me and Nia. We ran around in circles through the uncut grass, scribbling words in the air that disappeared after a second. Then there were all kind of fireworks. Some that scattered around on the ground like bugs sprayed with Raid, some that flew into the air and made a loud whistle, some that popped so loud like gunshots. But gunshots with glowing lights and smoke that sizzled patterns into the clear night sky.

I remember wanting to live in that day forever. I was only six or seven, but I already knew by then bout a lot of bad days. Days when Daddy just wasn’t himself, no matter how hard we all tried to make him be. Days when Momma and Daddy would fight, and I would hide under the covers with a book. Memories I tried my hardest to forget, even now. But that night I tried to memorize every smell, every feeling, every moment.

We ain’t ever celebrate the Fourth of July again after that one. Sometimes I wonder if it was even real, or if I made it up in my mind. Already, the sound of the fireworks is quiet, less vibrant. The whole scene, when I replay it in my mind, is blurry. Like a bad recording. A forged memory. Or maybe it did happen, cause God needed me to know happy just one time, so I would really feel it when He took it away.



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