Rhythms of Grace Read Online Free Page A

Mama really was, and the one under that, a snapshot of me and Brian smiling on a hot day when everything seemed right. I memorized days like that to save for nights like this. It all evens out somehow.
    She snatched the frame from me as quickly as I reached for it and sat up on the mattress. Like so many times before, I thought about giving her a good shove, running to tell everybody what they already knew. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I was a man, not a punk. Men didn’t hit women and they never ran away. I looked like my father, but I wanted the resemblance to stop there. He was dead now, but still haunted Mama’s soul. Mine too. I’d never be like him.
    She pricked her finger on the broken glass but managed to get into the frame. I sat up carefully, trying to gauge her reaction. Mama faltered for a minute as she looked at the wedding picture, squinting in the dim light to recognize her own happiness. She steeled her resolve when she saw the second photo. She crumpled them both in her fist.
    “Been hiding this?” She dug up another cigarette and lit it first, then the pictures. Her hand was really bleeding now, but she didn’t seem to feel it. She was too busy trying to be him, even though she’d hated him.
    But she loved him too. So did you. Just like you love her.
    She slapped me out of my reverie. “Best live for today, Ronnie. Now for the last time, are you going to leave them niggers alone?” She reached for the radio and yanked the cord out of it.
    I let out the scream I’d been holding back and rolled off the mattress, trying to avoid the broken glass. I knew what came next. This part hurt worst. How could I have been so stupid as to leave the radio out. It was Brian’s—set to wake me up. I’d been tired. So tired. The first lash sliced the air and landed across my shoulder blades, just under my arms. The cord came down again, this time around my neck. The plug whipped around and hit my temple. At least it wasn’t my eye. I hauled myself up and ran out of the room.
    She chased slower this time, but my heart beat faster, sort of like Brian’s drum. I slumped in the corner, quiet, while she looked for me with the cord raised above her head. One time, she’d fallen asleep on the couch like that, with an iron cord over her head. I’d climbed out the window onto Brian’s bike.
    Blood trailed down the side of my face. I must have moved or something because the cord came down again. I ducked to miss the plug, but banged my head hard into the wall in the process.
    That made me laugh. I don’t know why, but suddenly everything was funny. Ridiculous. Everybody said I should just go to the shelter, go to foster care and be some old person’s boyfriend like the other kids I knew who’d gone. They said Brian’s mother was too old to adopt me and that there were other kids, black kids that she should take. My mother was in treatment, they said. A hopeful case.
    I laughed harder at the thought of it, feeling hot and dizzy. So tired I wanted to sleep and never wake up. Maybe tonight I would be with Brian’s Jesus, the man of the cross and the shame. If God would have me, I’d be glad to come. I wasn’t so sure on the heaven thing, but anything had to be better than this.
    Anything.
    Maybe I’d go back to the shelter. Maybe nobody would touch me this time. I slid down the wall, but not before she got me one last time, with all her strength. I tried to catch the cord, but it cut my hand. I screamed, then cursed myself for screaming.
    Punk .
    The room flashed black. When I saw clear again, Mama was bending over me again, trying to stand up. When she bobbled back and swung down again, I didn’t even try to block her. I closed my eyes, but not before I heard the screen door bang open and then the front door. I didn’t see them, but I knew. I took a deep breath to be sure. Vanilla extract and Afro Sheen. Yeah. It was them.
    I squinted to see Miss Eva’s wrinkled hands around Mama’s wrists.
    “Marie, put