like saying Dr. King never had a dream.”
Isaiah laughed and eased closer to her on the sofa. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
Georgia smiled. “You rest now. You’ve been ripping and roaring all day. I’m getting tired just watching you.”
“Thanks. You’re a good mom.” He eased back into the chair, and then cocked his head onto her shoulder.
She chuckled and he enjoyed the melodious sound.
“Did she call today?” she asked.
His spirits dipped, but his resolve kicked in. “Not yet.”
She laughed and continued to pat his hand. “Don’t worry. She will.”
He chuckled at her misplaced confidence. “How do you know?”
“Because she’d have to be crazy not to.”
Jaleel lay across his bed and tossed a baseball into the air with one hand and then caught it in his gloved one. He’d often performed this routine when he needed to think or when he wanted to mentally separate from his parents. Today, he wanted and needed to do both. He was tired of being ignored and used by his parents, whether they meant to do it or not. Why couldn’t things go back to the way they used to be?
He was also tired of being angry—with his parents, with Macy, and most of all with himself. SneakingTheresa over after curfew had been a mistake. He wished he could talk with her, but since that night, her parents had grounded her from seeing him or even talking on the phone. The pain and embarrassment he’d caused his mother was unforgivable. The worst part was he had no explanation for why he couldn’t apologize. Instead he’d antagonized her and undoubtedly made her cry.
Jaleel stopped tossing the ball as he felt his own tears surface and slide to the corners of his eyes. He didn’t mean to hurt her. He just somehow always did.
This morning his mother wanted to discuss what had happened between him and Theresa and he had had the embarrassing chore of telling his mother he was no virgin. However, it was his first time attempting to have sex in their house. His honesty was rewarded with a flash of disappointment and disapproval. Then the discussion turned toward protection.
When he revealed his father had bought him a few boxes of condoms that he kept in his top drawer, he thought he’d win brownie points for having the foresight of discussing the matter with his dad, but instead his confiding with his dad hurt her. He would never learn the rules of divorce.
Frustration erupted in him. How much longer did he have to wait for both of them to come to their senses and get back together?
“No matter,” Jaleel whispered, and then willed histears to disappear. This summer he had a plan and, if things went the way he hoped, they would once again be one big happy family.
Chapter 13
R ain accompanied the dawn of Friday morning to the great relief of Atlanta citizens and their dehydrated lawns. But this was no ordinary shower; the blinding sheets of rain held every potential of becoming a hazardous flood—a good enough excuse for Brooklyn to try and work from home.
Jaleel had surprised her by bolting out of bed at 6:00 a.m. instead of sticking to his customary noon hibernation. She woke up and fixed him a hearty breakfast, undoubtedly the last one he’d get for the summer, seeing how it was no secret that Macy couldn’t cook.
By seven, Jaleel had dragged a large duffel bag into the living room and looked as though he was shipping out for war.
Brooklyn pretended her son’s eagerness didn’t bother her and even tried to convince herself she was looking forward to the summer break. In truth, she didn’t want him to go.
Jaleel walked into the kitchen and stared in awe at the feast before him. “Are you expecting an army?” he asked. A smile split his lips.
Then she truly noticed the mountain of biscuits, pancakes, sausages and eggs she’d prepared. There were bowls of grits, oatmeal and gravy—and she’d also fried a pack of bacon.
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “I might have gone a little
Isaiah laughed and eased closer to her on the sofa. “Is there anything else I can get for you?”
Georgia smiled. “You rest now. You’ve been ripping and roaring all day. I’m getting tired just watching you.”
“Thanks. You’re a good mom.” He eased back into the chair, and then cocked his head onto her shoulder.
She chuckled and he enjoyed the melodious sound.
“Did she call today?” she asked.
His spirits dipped, but his resolve kicked in. “Not yet.”
She laughed and continued to pat his hand. “Don’t worry. She will.”
He chuckled at her misplaced confidence. “How do you know?”
“Because she’d have to be crazy not to.”
Jaleel lay across his bed and tossed a baseball into the air with one hand and then caught it in his gloved one. He’d often performed this routine when he needed to think or when he wanted to mentally separate from his parents. Today, he wanted and needed to do both. He was tired of being ignored and used by his parents, whether they meant to do it or not. Why couldn’t things go back to the way they used to be?
He was also tired of being angry—with his parents, with Macy, and most of all with himself. SneakingTheresa over after curfew had been a mistake. He wished he could talk with her, but since that night, her parents had grounded her from seeing him or even talking on the phone. The pain and embarrassment he’d caused his mother was unforgivable. The worst part was he had no explanation for why he couldn’t apologize. Instead he’d antagonized her and undoubtedly made her cry.
Jaleel stopped tossing the ball as he felt his own tears surface and slide to the corners of his eyes. He didn’t mean to hurt her. He just somehow always did.
This morning his mother wanted to discuss what had happened between him and Theresa and he had had the embarrassing chore of telling his mother he was no virgin. However, it was his first time attempting to have sex in their house. His honesty was rewarded with a flash of disappointment and disapproval. Then the discussion turned toward protection.
When he revealed his father had bought him a few boxes of condoms that he kept in his top drawer, he thought he’d win brownie points for having the foresight of discussing the matter with his dad, but instead his confiding with his dad hurt her. He would never learn the rules of divorce.
Frustration erupted in him. How much longer did he have to wait for both of them to come to their senses and get back together?
“No matter,” Jaleel whispered, and then willed histears to disappear. This summer he had a plan and, if things went the way he hoped, they would once again be one big happy family.
Chapter 13
R ain accompanied the dawn of Friday morning to the great relief of Atlanta citizens and their dehydrated lawns. But this was no ordinary shower; the blinding sheets of rain held every potential of becoming a hazardous flood—a good enough excuse for Brooklyn to try and work from home.
Jaleel had surprised her by bolting out of bed at 6:00 a.m. instead of sticking to his customary noon hibernation. She woke up and fixed him a hearty breakfast, undoubtedly the last one he’d get for the summer, seeing how it was no secret that Macy couldn’t cook.
By seven, Jaleel had dragged a large duffel bag into the living room and looked as though he was shipping out for war.
Brooklyn pretended her son’s eagerness didn’t bother her and even tried to convince herself she was looking forward to the summer break. In truth, she didn’t want him to go.
Jaleel walked into the kitchen and stared in awe at the feast before him. “Are you expecting an army?” he asked. A smile split his lips.
Then she truly noticed the mountain of biscuits, pancakes, sausages and eggs she’d prepared. There were bowls of grits, oatmeal and gravy—and she’d also fried a pack of bacon.
“Okay,” she said, nodding. “I might have gone a little
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