Page 10 of Saving Grace

“I know, I like it.” he whispered. I sat back and we just stared at each other. I didn’t know why suddenly looking at him was making me feel tingly but I wanted the moment to last, he broke the spell I was under when he spoke.

“Will you read to me?

“Yes,” I didn’t hesitate. I needed a moment.

I got up and walked across the room to where my backpack sat by the front door, wondering why I was suddenly feeling nervous about being there with him.

When I couldn’t figure it out I shook the feeling off. I pulled out the poetry he liked. I’d brought other books for him to entertain himself with, but he’d seen me reading some of Maya Angelou’s poems and asked me to read one to him. I did. After that, every time I showed up he’d ask me to read to him.

I sat down next to him Indian style and this time was different than before. He laid his head on my lap while I read instead of sitting across from me. I was so nervous I stumbled and felt like I was sounding stupid, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just lay still as the dead with his eyes closed tightly.

One moment I was reading and the next we were being awakened up by the police. They’d scared the living daylights out of me. I couldn’t believe I had fallen asleep.

My Granny had gotten worried when I hadn’t come home or called.. I watched as Atticus struggled against being put into the back of their car. He calmed only when I got in beside him and held his hand.

“It’s ok. We can tell them about what your Dad did to you.”

“No!” He shook his head furiously. “If you do that they'll take me away and I’d never see you again. You’re the only friend I got.” His hand tightened on mine.” I’d rather die.”

I thought that he was being stupid. I was nowhere near as important as him being safe and I told him so.

“To me you are,” he pleaded, looking at me with his big, sad grey eyes.

Going against common sense, I agreed to keep quiet, but I didn’t like it.

He held my hand so tight on the drive to his house I thought he’d break it, but I didn’t dare complain. It was my fault he had to go back.

I knew he lived in a trailer park on the outskirts of town, but I hadn’t expected all the homes to be rusty and old, or the yards to be covered in trash. The smell of dog feces and urine was so heavy in the air that my eyes and nose burned. I couldn’t understand how anybody who lived like that held the belief that they were superior to me and my granny who lived in a four-bedroom, two bath house she owned in the nice part of town, just because of the color of the skin. But my Granny had told me those who were racist weren’t the smartest bunch, so I didn’t think about it for long.

When the officer knocked on Atticus’ Dad’s door, the wide man put on a whole show of hugging him and pretending he was happy to see him, but I saw him slap him upside the head when we were driving away. I must have been staring too hard because the Dad caught me and glared. I glared right back. I wasn’t scared of him. If he did anything to me, I knew my Granny would skin him alive.

I was scared for Atticus. He only had me to look out for him. I had to bite the inside of my cheek and dig my nails into my hands to keep from telling the police what I knew. Even that didn’t even work. The words hovered on the tip of my tongue until I made a promise to myself that from that day forth I’d be there for him, to protect him.

My Granny was furious when the police dropped me off. I didn’t try to lie or get out of my punishment. That wouldn’t have helped Atticus. I told her the truth. I explained to her what had happened and what Atticus’ Daddy was doing to him and how he had saved me that day at the lake. She understood like I knew she would. Understanding didn’t mean I wasn’t grounded for a week. I thought I’d gotten off easy in the grand scheme of things.

Atticus showed up the next day looking for me. My granny invited him in like she promised she would. He ate lunch with us and she told him he was always welcome at our house. “You’re safe here, anytime. I got a sawed off for pricks like your daddy, so he better not show his pale ass up over here acting a fool.” She warned, making us both laugh, but I knew she was serious.

After that, he said he had to go. She sent him on his way with a plate of fried fish and potato salad. She told him to come over if he got hungry or scared or just wanted to visit, but also told him he would have to help her cook and clean or read a book or play by his lonesome in one of the other rooms until my punishment was over.

He came by every day and stayed for hours. I'd hear him in the kitchen helping Granny, laughing, and cutting up. I wasn’t even mad about not being able to participate. I had a lifetime of Granny making me feel worthy. I was willing to share some of that feel good with Atticus.

That Saturday, the day my punishment ended. I saw him coming up the street just before breakfast. He had a smile the size of Mississippi on his face, we both did. Mine dropped when my eyes landed on the bandage that covered the right side of his face. He spoke before I could question him about it.

“Don’t hurt a bit.” He grinned.

I shook my head and started to ask him why he’d gotten beaten this time, but he pushed past me and walked into the house. He never liked to talk about the beatings his Daddy gave him. He was so used to them it was easy for him to pretend or forget that they hadn’t happened, but it wasn’t. I’d think about them for days.

“What Big Momma make for breakfast” She told him to call her that. Why? I don’t know. My granny was a slip of a woman, barely five feet and one hundred pounds, light skinned like a Creole woman, but you’d better not call her one to her face.

She’d told me she once had a sister dark as night named Love, who she loved as much as she loved me. She said that her family issues with colorism and self-hate had caused Love to run away. She’d gotten herself killed by a white man she was laid up with. Granny said her family’s ignorance was responsible for her sister’s death, so she didn’t take any pride in being anything but Black, though she obviously was. She had green eyes and long silky wavy hair that rested below her butt. It had been bright red before it turned completely grey.

What Granny didn’t have in size, she made up for in mouth though. She’d curse you so bad you’d wish she would have just hit you instead, and our house was full of guns that she always threatened to use on people if they even tried to act up.

I stayed on the porch after Atticus had gone in, trying to get my anger under control. Wishing that I could go over and kick his Daddy’s ass myself. I hated that man so much it made my heart hurt.

The sound of a car horn brought me back to the present. Lord knows how long I’d been sitting at the stop sign. I drove off and it only took me another minute or so until I pulled up in front of my house.

Marcus’ car wasn’t home, but it rarely was anymore. I pulled out my cell and called him for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, but my call went straight to voicemail.