Third installment of Granny series
Part one https://any1mark66.wordpress.com/2016/03/02/come-closer/
Part two https://any1mark66.wordpress.com/2016/03/04/granny-tells/
“Bobby get you ass out of bed! You goin’ to school! I ain’t got the time for this young man!” Momma’s voice winds up the stairs. She has no eyes for what is happening in the boy’s room. Her morning capsulated in pieces of time for certain things. Two extra minutes blows the whole thing apart.
Bobby stretches out. His bed a bump of blankets wadded up in the middle. His eyes open to the closet. It’s still cracked open enough to grab a shirt. There is no movement in the room. Red glowing numbers confirm he’s late. A small body swings sideways. Legs reach for the floor. Mom is still yelling but it’s muffled. He grabs clothes for the day.
He has had little sleep. Finding the door and stairs are drawn out processes. One by one a thud announces his progress toward the kitchen.
“Young man. You’re killing me today! I got to go. You should be brushing those green teeth already. It’s a Danish for you, and grab yourself some milk! Move it boy.” Momma keeps the pace up.
Her wardrobe is hooded sweatshirt, long sleeve t-shirt, jeans faded like hopes. Her thirty six years aged more like forty. Wrinkles have set in. Eyes, brows and mouth pulled down by ravages of life. Trees have rings to show age. Her rings are baggage. Every failure could be left behind. Every loss could have washed away by time. Everything is a monument to what has gone wrong. The fight to overcome the past is lead by General Pride. Retreating is forbidden.
“Who is my Granny?” Bobby fumbles the words.
“You don’t have no Granny! Grandma Ruth, she’d blow a gasket if you called her that. Grandma Jackie…I don’t think you outta go there either. Why? You got to get ready! I got no time for this now. I’ll be late. Too many of those this month already. Come on Bobby. We gotta go.” Momma grabs coffee and a purse. She turns for the door.
A solitary figure sits at the table. Middle aged, salt and pepper hair, some of it still in place. His stubble makes him look as successful as he is. Joseph watches the two from the sidelines. His gaze the only effort he’ll invest in the kid.