What Lies Beyond the Veil(Of Flesh & Bone #1)(55)



“It was hard for me to accept your momma growing up,” Granddaddy continues, more serious now. “Especially with her momma gone. I had only raised boys before, and all by myself.” Granddaddy lowers his head. “The boys ain’t have the same momma as your momma did. I raised them on my own, after they momma left.” The secret swirls around in my head as Granddaddy continues. Momma never mentioned that her brothers had a different momma than her. Then again, she never mentioned her momma at all, so I guess it was just another one of them secrets.

“The point is, I ain’t know what it meant for a girl to change into a woman. So when I started seeing it in your momma, seeing she was changing into a woman, I ain’t want her to grow up cause I was afraid I’d lose her forever.” I’m watching Nia as Granddaddy talks, laughing and playing with her friends, and I wonder if Granddaddy was afraid of losing Momma like I’m scared bout losing Nia.

“Did you?” I ask, quiet. “Lose her?”

Granddaddy don’t answer my question for a while, just stares at his folded hands on the table. Then finally he looks up at me with watery eyes. “Well, I got you here now, don’t I? So I must ain’t lost her yet.” He stares at me long with them watery eyes, but his tears can’t seem to fall. They stay perfectly balanced in his eyes, even as he reaches cross the table and squeezes my hand. I smile. Just that little squeeze feels like wrapping up in a warm blanket and drinking hot cocoa. Better yet, hot cocoa with marshmallows.

“Anyway.” Granddaddy shifts. “I ain’t hate your daddy forever. In fact, just before you were born, me and him had a big talk bout everything. He was a really good cook, had me over for dinner and made smothered meat loaf and mashed potatoes.”

I lick my lips remembering Daddy’s famous meal, one of my favorite dinners in the world. Then I realize this is the second time tonight I thought bout Daddy without gettin’ sad. “Thank you,” I whisper to Granddaddy.

“For what?” Granddaddy returns my smile. Truth is, I’m just happy for him talking to me like nobody ever does, like I’m a person with thoughts and feelings, not just a kid or somebody that ain’t even there. When Daddy died, Momma was so sad she forgot to notice I was sad, too. Her and Nia got to fighting a lot, and that was how we spent our days leading up to the funeral. Momma crying, Nia fighting, me with nobody to notice either way. It feels good to be noticed now, for once.

But I don’t say all that, just, “For a perfect birthday.”

“You’re welcome,” Granddaddy says. He pauses, then continues. “You know, it’s good to talk bout the people that’s gone, Kenyatta.” Now I’m positive he can read my mind. Granddaddy fixes his eyes right on my eyes. I concentrate on the dark spots as he talks, to keep from looking away. “When we lose someone we love, it’s easy to just pretend they was never there. To try and make it easier. But it don’t work, cause they was there. And now you got a big ol’ hole where that person used to be.” Granddaddy reaches cross the table and taps his finger against my shirt, right above my heart. Then moves his hand toward mine, like he gon’ grab it. But he don’t. “You gotta fill that hole with the memories, else you might lose ’em for good.”

Granddaddy don’t say nothin’ else after that, so neither do I. Just enjoy our perfect moment. I feel closer to fixing Momma and Granddaddy, and also closer to something else I ain’t even know I was looking for. I sit with Granddaddy at our worn table in the back of Pizza Land—kids yelling and playing and screaming around us—and I don’t have a care in the world.



* * *





We get back to the house late, after Granddaddy’s slow driving and stopping at the bookstore for two new books bout Anne: Anne of Avonlea and Anne of the Island. I clutch the books to my chest and follow Nia straight to our room to get ready for bed. We ain’t talk the whole ride home. And Nia don’t seem much in the mood for talking now, either.

Nia takes off her earrings and places them in the little box that she keeps in her purse. Then she removes her necklace and picks up her scarf to wrap her hair. Nia moves so graceful, like a ballerina.

“Nia,” I begin, swallowing hard, “I wanna talk to you bout something.”

She’s sittin’ in front of the mirror now and I’m standing behind her. Through the mirror she rolls her eyes, then sighs. “What?” she asks, working her fingers through her feathery hair.

“Well, Granddaddy was talking to me bout Daddy. Did you know they knew each other?” I watch to see if her expression changes, but she still just looks annoyed.

“Duh, of course they knew each other. Momma and Daddy was married. Don’t you think Momma would introduce her husband to her dad?”

I consider that question for a while, cause I don’t think it’s that simple. Then again, Nia don’t know bout the headshot and Granny and the fights. I think bout telling her, but then I remember all the secrets Nia been keeping from me and wonder if it’s a good idea. “You remember that meat loaf and potatoes Daddy would make?” I ask. Daddy’s meat loaf used to be one of her favorites, too. We used to always complain when Momma made dinner instead of Daddy. That would make Daddy laugh and Momma frown, so then we would have to hug her and tickle her til she smiled again.

“I ain’t ever like that meat loaf,” Nia says, wrapping her hair like she ain’t just tell a big fat lie.

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