Take the Money & Run.
We were sitting on the front porch when the mixture of an awkward silence and humid desert heat forced him to ask, “Egh, so did you think about what I told you,” he grumbled while lighting another cigarette. I had always hated when he smoked around me. Growing up I would watch him wait impatiently for my grandma to scurry and light up his rude habit. Watching him exhale the thick toxin of smoke into my face, I craved nothing more than to rip the cigarette from his lips and scream at him.
“I’m just trying to help you out Corazon, hell I know it's what your grandma would have wanted anyway,” he chuckled. I could feel the anger brewing up inside me. He was not allowed to call me by my nickname. That privilege had been lost among the many ancient lies he told. It took everything in me to fight back the forceful tears craving the familiar warmth of my cheek.
“I can’t...” I said under my breath.
He didn’t say anything, instead he drew in a long drag and challenged me with a stare that made me twinge. I could feel him searching for any sign of weakness. He wouldn’t find any, for anger had confidently taken its place. "Well…" he sighed as he smashed out his cigarette. This was usually my cue to leave, so I took it as such and attempted to quickly escape. “ Well… now just wait a minute there will ya…do you need anything for school? I know how expensive college can be and your ma tells me your car ain't exactly in the best shape nowadays. I can help you," he coaxed.
“No thanks grandpa I’ll manage,” I spat out brutally.
I was not going to let greed make me second-guess my decision. After all no one in my family had seemed to care that he somehow managed to weasel his way into my grand mothers money. No, none of the once barking pups seemed able to resist the hush money he threw in their face to keep us all one big happy family. The truth in that was strewn across the shocked look on his once cocky face.
Of course money would help, but that would mean harboring a torturous secret for a cheap imitation of family love. I had no choice. I had to do what was right if not for my own conscience, then at least for the soul they were all feeding off of.
“Welp, you know I'm always here if you need my help. Hmph try not to be a stranger so long this time ya hear?" he said quickly before hugging me coldly. He grumbled something as he slammed the screen door behind him. I stood there stiffly staring at the door, wishing deeply that she would miraculously waltz through and whisk me off on one of her mishap adventures, tears jumping at the very memory of her. Whether or not I was running from the money or my once wholesome family, haunting me, I bolted across the yard to safety of my tiny car.
Once embraced by the familiar stale heat inhabiting my car everything began to blur from the hurricane of tears escaping me. I was squeezing my eyes tighter in attempt to dispose of the weakness, when I heard the soothing rhythm of her lullaby. It was merely a softly sung hum at first before blossoming into the once live song that had spent so many nights welcoming me into slumber. The tune had never been more distant then a memory, but now it hung in the air as if being sung by the majestic soul herself. “Dingy dingy dingy dee …dingy dingy dingy dee,” I was not alarmed by the melody, but rather delighted in the familiar harmony. I smiled gently as I let my mind float ever so softly between the enticing notes of delusion and the reality of being alone in my car. It was a comforting illusion that had taken nearly a year of ill guidance from a shrink, and a spectacular performance on my part to attest such a apparition to my mother. Still, despite all the lectures and countless hours of defending my sanity, a twinge of hope danced inside me as I opened my eyes to the familiar emptiness. Letting out a sigh of disappointment, I began to accept the hallucination as a sign of some sort and started my car to pay my grandma a visit.
As I approached the green wrought iron fence my stomach churned at the thought of my grandmother buried beneath the cold damp soil. I quickly pushed the image out of my mind so I could advance through the maze of biblical sayings and half dead flowers. As I grew closer I noticed someone else was visiting her as well, curious as to who it was, I shut off my engine and proceeded on foot. I began quietly making my way toward the visitor, ducking and dodging behind the tall shadowy trees and crumbling tombstones inhabiting the cemetery. My jeans began to grow damp from kneeling in the cool moist grass and as I peeked over to catch a glimpse of the visitor—Ring! Ring!
Shit, I forgot to turn my phone on silent. I could feel my heart beat ringing in my ears, as I dropped behind the tomb and quickly silenced my phone. I was sitting there trying to regain my composure when I heard the rumble of a car engine. I leaped up only to find the visitor darting through the tiny dirt road out of the cemetery. Shocked I sprinted toward the grave and resting atop a fresh rose was an envelope reading M.C.T. Perhaps it was my grandmothers initials that ushered me forward to open the envelope, nonetheless my fingers trembled, as I ran them along the sealed crease. I tore it open only to find ten crisp hundred dollar bills with a small note that read: I’m Sorry.
[to be continued...]
_Niecebird_
No comments:
Post a Comment