Rebecca stood under the plum tree. She reached her tiny fingers up, picking one off the lowest branch. It barely fit in the palm of her hands. Rebecca ran through the yard toward the porch, careful to not trip. Her mother, May, sat stitching a blue dress with yellow patches. May watched her daughter run up with a plum in her hands.
Lord, she prayed, give me patience.
“Momma,” Rebecca said, “you fixing my dress for church?”
“Baby, no. We ain’t going today. And, I told you to leave that tree alone,” May said, eyes never leaving her stitching. “Go put that plum back where you found it. Give the deer something to eat.”
“Momma,” Rebecca said, rolling her eyes. “I picked it off the tree.”…
...continue reading
My brother existed first in the loud prayers of my mother before he was born. Prayers like Lord if you give me this son I am asking for, I will worship you for the rest of my life. I will dedicate him back to you, use him for your glory. Show yourself, Father, let people know that I serve a living God. It happened that my parents counted me Chinonso, as their first bundle of joy. My younger sister Chisomaga, a second bundle of joy, and my youngest sister Chimuanya, the third bundle of joy. Still, three of us are incomplete bundles of joy because we are girls. Daddy came to the conclusion that it must be his portion in the land of the living to bear a son that will hopefully bear more sons who will carry on his surname for all eternity.…
...continue reading
Dawn’s heart beat for the first time in nearly a decade. Why am I here? She takes in the expressions of surprise on the nurse’s face. The woman hurriedly pages the doctor. The patient feels enormous pain when lifting her hand to touch her face. It takes an effort. She feels gauze surrounding her face. She remembers that day. She hears the laughter and shouts and views the feet of rage which stomps her face.
It began uneventfully and a nudge from a friend turned into senseless violence. She tried to ward off the blows but there were too many of them. She struck two girls and one ripped out her braids before she fell. Their furious faces, especially the one she thought was her friend and believed had her back.…
...continue reading
All the same Filipina prostitutes from my youth showed up to Ma’s funeral. They arrived in business-casual black, arm in arm with men – haircuts high and tight – who looked very familiar. Some ladies cradled bouquets like babies. Some wiped their eyes with floral handkerchiefs, while others wiped their brown cheeks with their tiny palms. They all now had crow’s feet and grey hair and a few extra pounds that gave sign of them achieving their American dreams.
Tiya Wowwie was the only one to speak to me: “We gonna miss Ina Lucy. She mean so much.” I still thought of Wowwie as auntie because she was the one who often played trucks with me, read books to me, and fell asleep – also tucked into my Transformers sheets – beside me many nights instead of mingling with the drunk Air Force men my white father had invited to the parties.…
...continue reading
On the side of the road, the crows gather. They dot the berm—little robed monks in modest black. Picking and pestering. Cawing and careening. Communion is a smattering of roadkill possum.
Take this and eat of it. This is my body, which shall be given up for you.
They partake with reverence: brief flutters of wings, tender peckings, and silent blessings.
A rust-colored smear on the grey highway leads to the offering—who is covered now—shielded from the eyes outside the avian parish by black feathers that become a living funeral shroud.
Take this and drink. This is the blood of the covenant which shall be shed for the forgiveness of sins
The birds drink of it and ascend, singing hymns, wings alight. The possum is brought to the heavens in the mouths of nature’s faithful.…
...continue reading
Anne always drove too fast. It was after midnight now and the road home was hazy with fog. There were no street lights here in the “old” side of town, just cracked, glowing paint, and the occasional rusted railing reminding you where the cliffs were. Anne had been staying later and later at the shop since she started working there, preferring its armchairs and views of downtown to the quiet and dark of her own apartment. Anne yawned, keeping her eyes dead ahead where her high beams bounced off of the fog, her eyes burned with concentration and tiredness. A burst of dark brown fur rushed into view and Anne slammed on the breaks.
The deer stared at Anne, nostrils flared and eyes shining in the darkness.…
...continue reading
The ambient light goes out and laughter followed it. On the end table, the alarm clock glows at a quarter past three. His bedroom is pitch black without the television. He rolls over and looks at the darkness. The covers are thrown off him so he can get up. He pushes out the bed, finding his houseshoes by feet, and fists the handgun.
Garbage pick-up is today at daybreak. And after three weeks of procrastination, that sucker is full and it needs taken out. The trashcan does not have any more room for another lazy week. So he closes the backdoor behind him, triggering the floodlights. He walks through and beyond the garage to look up to find the night sky noticeably vacant. It is as if the moon and stars withdrew.…
...continue reading