What Lies Beyond the Veil(Of Flesh & Bone #1)(80)

“I’m gon’ miss you,” I finally say, looking down at my hands in my lap.

“I’m gon’ miss you, too, Kenyatta. My favorite Wheel of Fortune partner.” Granddaddy nudges me with his shoulder and I can’t help but look up at him and smile. “You promise to visit your lonely old granddaddy sometimes?”

I nod. “Every summer,” I say with a big smile, hoping it’s gon’ be true. Granddaddy smiles back before his face turns thoughtful.

“You know, when I was your age, I lost somebody, too. My big cousin, James.” Granddaddy’s voice breaks, but he clears his throat and continues. “James was my hero. I did everything he did and liked everything he liked. When I lost him, it was almost like losing me.”

I nod, cause I don’t know what to say.

“I been watching you this summer, Kenyatta, and I know you hurting. You done seen stuff that a kid your age ain’t s’posed to see. And you lost somebody that left a big hole, right here.” He taps his finger against my shirt, right above my heart. Just like he did on my birthday, when we talked bout Daddy. I told myself I wasn’t gon’ cry today, but now my eyes feel pretty itchy.

“I really miss him,” I finally whisper. “Things just ain’t the same without Daddy, even if he did do some bad stuff.” I sniffle, but Granddaddy surprises me by smiling.

“I know you miss your daddy, Kenyatta. But that’s not who I’m talking bout. You lost someone else this summer, too.” Granddaddy turns his head to Momma’s car and looks right at Nia, in the back seat with her headphones.

“Nia?” I ask.

“Remember what I said. When I lost my big cousin, it was almost like losing me.” Granddaddy squeezes me in a quick hug, then slowly stands to head back inside the house.

“Granddaddy,” I call out, just as his hand touches the screen door. He looks at me, and I can’t tell if his eyes look happy or sad. “You got it wrong.” I stand now, too, but don’t move closer. “I ain’t lose Nia this summer.” I turn around and spot her in Momma’s back seat, still with headphones on, but now watching me through the smudged window. She smiles, so I smile, too. “I found her.” I duck my head before Granddaddy can respond, then wave good-bye.

I walk to the car, quick, and climb inside. As I get settled in my seat, I realize that just like Granddaddy said, I been scared to lose Nia this whole time, cause losing Nia felt like losing me, too. The part of me that laughed til I snorted and threw snowballs. The part of me that had a daddy. But I ain’t lose Nia. Not yet, and if I’m lucky, not ever.

“All buckled?” Momma glances into the back seat at me and Nia, and we both nod. But then I remember something I almost forgot.

“Momma, wait,” I yell, unsnapping my seat belt. “My mayonnaise jar!” I’m already out the car before Momma can ask any questions, but I see the confused look on her face as I run back to Granddaddy’s porch, where I hid the jar beneath the steps.

After a whole summer finding caterpillars, I only got one left. I don’t know if they died or turned to butterflies, cause they are just gone. I wonder if Granddaddy found my jar and hid the dead bodies, so I wouldn’t have to find ’em.

I watch the last caterpillar crawl along the bottom of the mayonnaise jar. Momma once brought home a book from the secondhand store bout a hungry caterpillar who ate everything he could find. I thought it was a funny book, cause back then I only knew the little-kid version of that story, where the caterpillar hatches one day from an egg. Eats and eats til he is longer, fatter. Then, one day, once he’s had enough, he stops eating and hangs himself upside down from a twig, spins a cocoon, and in that silky covering, the caterpillar magically transforms into a butterfly, shedding all the versions of himself cept that very best one.

But the truth bout the little orange caterpillar crawling around the bottom of my jar is that he will have to give himself up completely before he can become something new. When he climbs into his cocoon, there won’t be nothin’ magic bout him digesting himself, then dissolving all his tissues til he’s nothin’. Only then can he become something else.

The caterpillar pushes against the edge of the jar. I wonder if he hates it in there. All the grass that me and Nia put at the bottom is brown and filled with holes now, and the jar looks cloudy on the inside. He probably hates it, but it’s been his home. He ain’t have no choice bout none of it, just ended up there and had to make the best of it.

I turn the jar over in my hands, think of all that was there before and all that is gone now. And then I know what I gotta do.

I twist the lid off the top of the mayonnaise jar and sit it back on Granddaddy’s porch. Maybe the caterpillar will keep living inside, but maybe he’ll find a way out, instead. I want him to have a chance, so I gotta let go. The second lesson I learned from Daddy; the one he ain’t follow, in the end.

I run back to Momma’s car, dreaming of butterflies. I take one last look cross the street and find Bobby and Charlotte sittin’ on their porch. Charlotte starts to stand when she sees me, but then sits down quick, like she just remembered something. I look away, cause I know them white kids can’t be no different, even if they wanna. Or maybe they can, and just won’t. But then, just as I open the car door, Bobby calls out.

“KB!” I turn back, and he offers a tiny wave that’s already gone before I can return it. I dip my hand in my pocket instead, count the lumps of rock there that he gave me back when none of us knew better. One, two, three. I climb in the car and Momma drives away.