Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Ms. Florence, I think that’s the only way out of this. I see you won’t leave me alone till I get this out of my system and handle it. Maybe, I need to go straight to the source. I can’t talk to Axel ’bout this though, Ms. Florence. I can’t talk to Caspian, Melanie, and damn sure not Mama. I ain’t got nobody to confide in, and there’s no way they’d understand. I told you, ’cause I trusted you, and you wanted to know why I was so torn up inside. Problems at home with Mama… no father in my life… dead brother… I felt like I had to deal with a lot of shit a kid shouldn’t have to, like I had to be the man of the house.
“You want this soldier to unburden my soul! But this goes against what I believe in! How I was raised and trained! Men don’t cry! WE DON’T CRY!” He jumped up and punched a hole clean in the wall. His knuckles stung, the skin broken, bruised and bleeding… but he felt no pain. He stood there, in a daze.
Hate has been my religion, Ms. Florence, and I’m up every mornin’ for Sunday service, dressed to impress. I never miss a day. Guns blazin’.
He glanced over at his closet, which was full of artillery, and other special things, too.
You told me I couldn’t go to that chapel no more and listen to the Devil preach. That voice in my head that gives me permission to remain blind is my personal devil, huh? Maybe it is, maybe it’s not, but I can’t trust nobody. I need to hear the good word. Not from the Bible, but the book of life. Who got the good word, Ms. Florence? Who can talk to me like you could? Calm me down? Make me listen? Who can inspire me? Who can tame this beast, Ms. Florence, and make me lay my burdens down? I ain’t met a man or woman yet who could! I don’t believe there’s a person alive who could bring me to my knees and make me repent, while having me respect them at the same time. You said it was time for a new spiritual awakening, and you’d give me a sign. You said it would be dripping wet with love…
All right…
He sniffed, wiped his eyes, threw on a tank top and boxers, then looked up at the ceiling. The fan was spinning and spinning, around and around, like an angel dancing around the sun.
You won, Ms. Florence. I’m ready. My blinders are off. I’m waiting for your next move…
The rain had started an hour ago and hadn’t let up. It was just in time for her evening commute. Figures. Desiree finally made it home from work, thankful that Kaylee and her friend had gone to the movies with the child’s older sister. Afterwards, they’d planned to stop and get some food, too. She rested against her front door for a while, catching her breath, drenched to the bone from not having an umbrella.
Moments later, she managed to get her second wind. Stripping out of the wet garments, she wrapped herself in her zebra print robe and lit a few candles around the place. Grabbing a can of chili with beans, she opened it, dumped it in a pot with a bit of onion and garlic powder, and allowed it to simmer on the stove. Just then, her phone rang. She saw it was Kaylee.
“Hey, baby, I thought you were at the movies?”
“We’re in the car now and on our way. Mama, can I spend the night?”
She sucked her teeth and shook her head as she stirred the pot, moving the meat and beans around in the thick gravy. She knew this was coming. It was Friday night after all, and Kaylee and her little friend Patricia were always trying to spend extra time together, especially when it came to sleepovers.
“You don’t have a change of clothes, and what about your homework?”
“Mama, it’s Friday. And besides, my homework is already finished. I can wear somethin’ of Patricia’s. Right, Patricia?”
She heard the girl yell, “Yes! Kaylee can wear something of mine, Ms. Washington.” Then the two giggle-bugs started laughing.
“Okay, but I want you back home by ten in the morning, Kaylee. You have to get your braids redone, and I want this room of yours cleaned up. You hear me?”
“Yes, ma’am!” The phone call abruptly ended, but not before she heard more giggling.
I’m about to run a bubble bath. That’s what I really need right about now.
She made her way down the hall to her bathroom, grabbed the bottle of tangerine and cream body wash and squeezed a big dollop of the silky pink liquid into the tub, rapping the lyrics of ‘F.N.F.’, by GloRilla. Stopping mid-lyric, she leaned over the tub and burst out laughing.