" Ginger Bread! Ginger Bread, where you at?" I heard my father's voice calling for me from the inside of his store. I had returned home form college for the summer and was sweeping the sidewalk when I turned and ran into the store with broom in hand. He was sitting behind the counter.
" Yeah, Daddy," the words still seemed awkward on my tongue even after three years.
" Can you go get a box for me from the attic? It's the one marked 'Apartment Storage'."
I nodded, "Yes, Daddy." I turned and headed towards the attic. I went around the corner and reached to pull the attic stairs down. They creaked as I walked up them. As soon as my head poked through the small square my eyes stung from the dust. "How long has it been since he's been up here?" I thought as the dust then traveled down my wind pipe and I began to cough. After getting past the dust wall I finally stepped into the attic which was full of nothing, but boxes. I sighed and went on my search.
"Storage...storage...where is it? Aha!" I grabbed up the box labeled "Storage" and there was a thud as several other boxes fell. A small box nearby fell over scattering newspapers on the floor.I grunted and put the "Storage" box down. I bent down to pick up the newspapers. There was a picture of a woman on the front of a clipping. I stared at her, trying to figure out why she looked so familiar. Then, I realized she was my mother. Fifteen years. It had been fifteen years since I had last seen her. Fifteen years since I had seen her high cheek bones and bright eyes. Her slim shoulders and wide smile.
I placed my hand on her face. The picture of her face, I mean but it was the closest I'd been to her in so long. I let my fingers run across the photo,trying to get some feeling from it. I felt nothing. "Mommy." I picked the clipping up and read the head line. I became numb. " Local Woman Found Dead In Alley." I snatched the clipping up and ran to my Father. "What is this?" I slammed it on the counter. He lowered his head and a shadow cast over his face. Guilt.
"I was going to tell you, baby."
"Tell me what? That my mother's dead! When? When were you going to tell me?" I could feel my breathing getting heavier.
" I....I..your mother...she was sick. She had been hanging around the wrong people and-"
"How was she sick? Was it..was it the flu or what?!"
"The drugs made her sick." He looked up at me, waiting for a reaction but I was stoic. "Ya mother..she was...she was a crack addict."
Childhood memories of my mother flashed through my mind.A She was beautiful. She was bright with flawless skin, thick dark hair and eyes that could see me. Only me.
A few tears ran down his cheeks. I couldn't believe the words I was hearing.
"A crack head? My Mama....no..she......" My Dad tried to reach for me but I pulled back. "Is that what killed her? The drugs?"
"No," he wiped a hand across his face.
"Then, what? Was she in an accident?"
He sighed and looked away from at the floor. " Somebody murdered ya mama, Ginger."
"What!" My voice came out in a shriek and my hand began to shake. "Who..why.....WHO KILLED MY MOTHER?"
"They let him go."
"Who?" I repeated myself.
"He's a drug dealer from around here. Ya mother met him a few years back and...he got her hooked. She just went..she just...they call him JD-"
"Where can I find him?"
"Ginger Bread, no." He leapt from his chair and reached for my arm, but I would not be stopped. I ran out the store and though the sky was a light orange all I saw was red.
" Yeah, Daddy," the words still seemed awkward on my tongue even after three years.
" Can you go get a box for me from the attic? It's the one marked 'Apartment Storage'."
I nodded, "Yes, Daddy." I turned and headed towards the attic. I went around the corner and reached to pull the attic stairs down. They creaked as I walked up them. As soon as my head poked through the small square my eyes stung from the dust. "How long has it been since he's been up here?" I thought as the dust then traveled down my wind pipe and I began to cough. After getting past the dust wall I finally stepped into the attic which was full of nothing, but boxes. I sighed and went on my search.
"Storage...storage...where is it? Aha!" I grabbed up the box labeled "Storage" and there was a thud as several other boxes fell. A small box nearby fell over scattering newspapers on the floor.I grunted and put the "Storage" box down. I bent down to pick up the newspapers. There was a picture of a woman on the front of a clipping. I stared at her, trying to figure out why she looked so familiar. Then, I realized she was my mother. Fifteen years. It had been fifteen years since I had last seen her. Fifteen years since I had seen her high cheek bones and bright eyes. Her slim shoulders and wide smile.
I placed my hand on her face. The picture of her face, I mean but it was the closest I'd been to her in so long. I let my fingers run across the photo,trying to get some feeling from it. I felt nothing. "Mommy." I picked the clipping up and read the head line. I became numb. " Local Woman Found Dead In Alley." I snatched the clipping up and ran to my Father. "What is this?" I slammed it on the counter. He lowered his head and a shadow cast over his face. Guilt.
"I was going to tell you, baby."
"Tell me what? That my mother's dead! When? When were you going to tell me?" I could feel my breathing getting heavier.
" I....I..your mother...she was sick. She had been hanging around the wrong people and-"
"How was she sick? Was it..was it the flu or what?!"
"The drugs made her sick." He looked up at me, waiting for a reaction but I was stoic. "Ya mother..she was...she was a crack addict."
Childhood memories of my mother flashed through my mind.A She was beautiful. She was bright with flawless skin, thick dark hair and eyes that could see me. Only me.
A few tears ran down his cheeks. I couldn't believe the words I was hearing.
"A crack head? My Mama....no..she......" My Dad tried to reach for me but I pulled back. "Is that what killed her? The drugs?"
"No," he wiped a hand across his face.
"Then, what? Was she in an accident?"
He sighed and looked away from at the floor. " Somebody murdered ya mama, Ginger."
"What!" My voice came out in a shriek and my hand began to shake. "Who..why.....WHO KILLED MY MOTHER?"
"They let him go."
"Who?" I repeated myself.
"He's a drug dealer from around here. Ya mother met him a few years back and...he got her hooked. She just went..she just...they call him JD-"
"Where can I find him?"
"Ginger Bread, no." He leapt from his chair and reached for my arm, but I would not be stopped. I ran out the store and though the sky was a light orange all I saw was red.
No comments:
Post a Comment