Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
English leaned against the floral wall-papered partition in the home she’d grown up in and turned her attention back towards her mother. The lady of the day was sitting surrounded by those she loved most.
Mama’s exhilaration was shiny and heavy. It packed the house like golden bricks stacked up to the heavens. The big smile on her face put her in her mind the image of a white rainbow lying on its back. Her slender legs crossed, the silver anklets gleamed under the lighting, she was clearly enjoying every moment as she smacked her lips before taking a great big gulp of water.
English committed this day to memory—this feeling—hearing the laughter yet to come, and seeing the tears of joy yet to fall. Mama must’ve heard something hilarious then, for her eyes grew large, and she burst out laughing. She sounded like a colorful song, and looked like gratitude and love. It had been a while since English had traveled home to Dry Ridge, Kentucky. It was nice to be here, even if only for a day.
“En.” Roosevelt slipped close to her, clutching a beer in his beringed hand. “We’re going to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Mama in a little bit. I looked in the kitchen, but didn’t see anything. Where’s a lighter?”
“I bet she and Daddy have one in their bedroom since she has all of those Diptyque candles and whatnot in there. I’ll go check. Be right back.”
She traveled down the long hallway, almost bumping into her cousin, Chloe, who was on her phone while exiting the bathroom. Chloe’s pink and blonde weave was piled high atop her head, her hair-sprayed curls adorned with rhinestones and vibrant faux jewels in an up-do that rivaled Marge Simpson’s. Chloe often worked as a model in hair shows, typically traveling to Detroit, Michigan and Atlanta, Georgia with her stylist. When she smiled, her dark purple lipstick framed a mouth full of tightly packed teeth, the left front one shielded in gold with a diamond chip shaped like a tiny star.
That’s probably the same star the three wise men followed to meet baby Jesus… Why did I think of that? Silly. I think I drank too much wine, and the night is still young.
“HEEEEY, ENGLISH! I ain’t seen you in a minute, baby. Lookin’ good. You still messin’ with them old Negro Spiritual books in Po’land? Po’land, Kentucky, right? Not Po’land, Oregon. Did you move to Oregon or stay here in Kentucky, girl? Shiiiid. I can’t remember, chile.”
She barely slowed down to even wait for a reply, so English tried to respond quickly, before Chloe all but disappeared.
“They’re not all Negro Spiritual books, Chloe, but yes, I’m still book curating at the Roots 101 museum in Portland. Still here in Kentucky.”
“Mmm hmmm, that’s nice! I’ll come visit soon, baby!” Her cousin sauntered away, not really giving a damn, then began yelling something English couldn’t understand as she finessed up the hallway toward the crowd, hips just a rockin’.
English shook her head and continued on to her parents’ bedroom. As she entered, she half-expected to see her father sprawled out across the bed, asleep. She hadn’t seen him for at least thirty minutes now that she thought about it. Daddy hated parties and wasn’t a stranger to slipping away during some shindigs, taking cat naps here and there. But the room was empty, the neat queen-sized bed simply dressed in lilac and white sheets, surrounded by oak furniture and a large flat screen television mounted to the wall. As always, it smelled like fresh linens in here. To her left stood a curio holding family heirlooms and leather-bound photo albums, and to her right, Mama’s vast collection of pretty perfumes, assorted purses, candles, nail polishes, and drugstore cosmetics. Her guilty pleasure.
She made her way over to the dresser and opened the top drawer to find a stash of old receipts. Daddy usually kept those as a record for business expenses. He’d recently retired from his position as manager of a large lawn care and gardening company, but still earned a bit of extra cash doing repairs on related equipment. After plundering through that drawer, she soon realized there were no lighters.
She opened another drawer, and hit the jackpot. Grabbing one of two options—a red, white and blue one with ‘Texas’ printed across it—she turned to leave, then paused when an envelope lying on the vanity, addressed to Mama, drew her attention. Her heart sank. She stepped closer, an agonizing sickness running roughshod over her. A slow sweat began in her core and oozed outward, leaving moisture along her brow. Her gut felt like a miniature roller coaster ride within her.
She shook her head in disbelief. Her eyes felt suddenly dry, and she blinked as if to wish the vision away. After a few moments of swimming in the deep end of trepidation and unrealistic expectations, she managed to pull herself together and snatch the pink envelope that was lying there, mocking her.