Read Those Bones Are Not My Child for Free Online Page B

anymore.
    “Well, this is a new day, so don’t even try.” She shredded the words through clenched teeth. She filled the Coke bottle with tap water and shoved in the sprinkler attachment. She hated ironing and so she ironed, determined to hang on to her rage.
    “Come home now,” she muttered. But each time the iron thudded against Kofi’s shirt, she heard her younger son’s taunts and couldn’t fend off the horrors. Sonny stumbling down a ravine. Sonny trapped in an abandoned house. Sonny pole-axed by a maniac.
    Zala flung open the doors of the cupboard and didn’t bother getting a glass. She swigged a mouthful of Southern Comfort and the woods began to fade. The body facedown in the gully blurred. Blood seeping between the stones dissolved.
    Now that she was on the toilet, she didn’t have to go. The fishbowl was in the tub. She didn’t feel like changing the water. It was too early yet and Roger the fish was still sleeping.
    Kenti made herself get up. When she sat a long time, she’d start sticking to the seat and it would hurt to get up. She could hear the telephone wire slapping against the side of the house. Some pigeons were making noise up in the roofing somewhere. Everything else was quiet. No bacon sizzling. No choirs singing on the radio. Mama was on the couch, half in and half out of her nappy bathrobe. She had her legs over the arm of the couch so Sonny couldn’t get in the door without waking her up. He was going to get it, ’cause she wasn’t fooling this time. On top of the arts and crafts box was that long whip of leather.
    Kenti leaned against the arch post, one foot on top of the other. She could feel grit when she wiggled her toes. Sonny wouldn’t mop the floor or nothing. Even when she stuffed the pillowcase and dragged it to the hall, he wouldn’t get the cart and take it to the laundry. Said, “Ain’t my work, it’s her work, wasn’t me that kept having babies.” Like he wasn’t one of the babies she had. And like she didn’t work a lot at the barbershop and the art center too. Sonny’s work sheet was under the kitchen table. It wasn’t crumpled up, so maybe he hadn’t thrown it there. Probably it had slipped from under the banana magnet on the refrigerator door and blew there. Nothing he was supposed to do was checked off.
    Kenti sniffed to see if maybe the refrigerator was open. Sometimes the wooden spoon stuck in the bowl of batter wouldn’t let the door close. But all she smelled was gas, ’cause there probably was no bowl of pancake batter to begin with. She was sure the smell was gas, because the stove was broke. Sonny was supposed to go get the landlord about it. But she didn’t think he did, ’cause she sure smelled something. And it wasn’t just the bottle pushed down in the trash. Mama call herself hiding it under a bread wrapper. If Daddy came by he would get on her about that. But Daddy wasn’t coming by so much no more.
    Kofi’s shirt was hanging on the ironing board, but her dress wasballed up on the table. One of the table legs was sticking out funny. That was where Sonny and Uncle Dave had a fight. Uncle Dave was all the time saying something. So Sonny would say something right back at him. And it wasn’t any use telling Sonny he better watch it ’cause Uncle Dave was big and a man and used to working with them rough boys down at the juvenile, ’cause that to Sonny wasn’t nothing but a dare. So next thing you know they were shouting the house down.
    Uncle Dave was okay sometimes. When he remembered to get peaches and whipped cream in a can. And he told good stories about the time he and Mama and a lot of cousins were little children growing up in Buttermilk Bottom. They played dodgeball and running bases. The movie was a quarter in the old days. And for a nickel they’d get two Tootsie Pops and change besides at Wellington Market. There was a pickle barrel there and a case with store cheese and baloney and another case with candy dots on paper and