Chapter 5-1
820 Words
Chapter 5
We reappeared in Mama’s living room with a bright, purple flash, crashing through her antique, wooden coffee table in the living room and splintering every one of its legs. My hands shook uncontrollably, and my chest pounded like I’d taken ten shots of pure adrenaline.
“What the what?” I shouted, anxious and excited. “What just happened?”
The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. My eyes refused to focus, and when I looked at Mama, I saw three of her smiling back at me.
I thought I was having a stroke for a moment. Then, three mamas merged back into one and my head stopped spinning. When I looked again at her on the ground, she seemed completely unfazed by the experience of transporting halfway across town in an instant.
“What are you talking about, dear?” Mama asked, pushing herself up to her knees.
“Are you kidding me?” I shouted from the floor. “We just...I don’t know what just happened. One second we were in the park and the next...we are here.”
Mama pushed herself to her feet. “Oh, that. Well, sometimes it happens. Haven’t you ever just ended up somewhere and didn’t know how you got there?”
I tried to push myself up, but my head spun, and I lost my balance, sending me crashing back to the floor.
“This is not that, Mama. It’s not like I just forgot where I was going and ended up somewhere. We...like...we teleported here, like we were on Star Trek or some shit.”
“I don’t know what that means,” Mama said, shaking her head at the broken table beneath her. “A damn shame. I had that table since before I met your father.”
I shook my head at her quizzically. “Are you really more concerned with that stupid table than the fact we just...like, vanished from one place and appeared somewhere else?”
“Well, I loved that table. And as for the other thing, it happens. I don’t see what the fuss is about.”
“The fuss is because that’s not normal. None of this is normal.”
“Really? Seems normal to me. I don’t know.”
I rolled over to my stomach. “Are you saying that you make it a habit of teleporting all over the place? Do you have some special powers you haven’t told me about yet?”
She shrugged. “I’m not saying it hasn’t happened before. I can’t remember an instance, but I’m saying that I’m old and lots of things have happened to me before. It takes a lot to make me take notice.”
I gave up trying to stand and rolled back to my back, content to let my dizziness pass. “Alright, so what if I grew wings and started to fly, would that be enough to grab your attention?”
“I think so. Yes, that would be something I’ve never seen before, I’m sure of it. This, well I can’t say that I have dealt with it before, but I can’t say that I haven’t. I’ve forgotten a lot in my life, kiddo. Probably more than you’ve ever learned.”
“Doubtful. I’m very educated.”
Mama walked toward the stairs. “And I am very old.”
“Just so we are clear...you can neither confirm nor deny that this has happened to you before, and it’s so uninteresting that it doesn’t even warrant a couple minutes of your attention?”
Mama thought for a second. “Yes. That sounds about right. Goodnight, my dear.”
“You are the weirdest person I have ever known. Do you know that?”
She smiled at me, starting up the stairs. “Thank you.”
I laid on the floor, listening to her amble up the stairs, trying to regain my balance and stand up. There was silence for a moment, save for the creak of wood under Mama’s feet as she stepped. Finally, I called after her. “Can I ask you one more thing, Mama?”
She stopped. “It’s not about this whole business, is it?”
“No,” I said. “Well, not exactly. My whole life you taught me to behave and not act up to white folks...so why did you slap Duncan now?”
She smiled, creeping up the stairs. “Cuz I am old, dear, and while I’ve become quite accustomed to white people pushing me around, I am tired of letting little, white boys push you around. I let them disrespect me for sixty-seven years and I just couldn’t let them do it to you one more time—not tonight.”
“I’m scared, Mama,” I said. “I’m scared of what they’re gonna do to you.”
She chuckled. “I survived a whole lot worse than Duncan Lewis in my day. His father—now that’s a real scumbag.”
“And what if his father doesn’t like what you did?”
“Then he can take it up with me, if he wants,” Mama said, continuing up the stairs. “Something tells me he’s got better things to do than string up an old, black woman.”
“What if you’re wrong?”
She cackled from the top of the stairs. “Then I lived a good life, baby. A good, long life. And it sure felt good to smack that spoiled, young face. Really good.”
*
- Writer
