KG was bothered. He went from Pookie's house, to his mother's house and then back to his grandmother. He couldn't shake the last conversation he had with his father. What did the man want from him? Why did he call him out the blue? His father had completely interrupted his cool, filling him up with emotions he'd long buried. His heart was heavy again.
He stood in the living room with his arms crossed and his eyes focused on his grandmother. He felt bad for her.
The house had grown lonely, very quiet lately. The smell of greens and buttered sweet potatoes had long gone and so were his aunties, uncles and cousins. She sat alone in her favorite chair, completely glued in on Bob Parker's The Price is Right and didn't say a word.
After having twelve kids, dozens of grandchildren and being used to a lively house, grandma stared at Bob, lodged a cinnamon hard candy in between her pink gums and rocked back and forth like an old pendulum.
"Granny," he said. He knelt down beside her, nestling his head gently against her arm. Her warm body soothed his loneliness. It always did.
"You hired some investigator for my pops?" He asked.
"What?" She said, focused on the television screen.
"My mother said you hired somebody for my dad. I was just wondering why?"
"Oh. That's nothing for you to worry about."
"Yes it is. I need to know what's going on. Maybe I can help."
"I'm supposed to talk to him soon, so when I do, I'll tell you. I want to get the facts first before I start running my mouth. Because you know I can get to running my mouth."
KG laughed. "Aight. But you promise?"
"Boi," she said, staring back at him with fierce eyes.
"I ain't never lied to you. Don't ask me no shit like that."
KG cracked up again. "My bad, grandma. My bad."
KG tiptoed backwards out of the living room and headed up the steps. He slid his hand against the banister admiring the worn wood -land chuckled at the memories. He'd remembered his grandmother yelling at him for jumping down half the steps, sliding his butt down the banister and getting splinters in his little legs. The carpet was now worn in the middle and pieces of plastic pulled from the carpet. Those were the days, he thought.
He reached his bedroom and sat on the bottom of the bunk bed. He ducked his head down to fit under it and allowed the tears to just flow. Too much was going on too fast. The move, his father coming back in his life, his sick grandmother. And then the phone rang.
"Grandma! You going to get the phone," he yelled.
He could hear the phone ringing back to back as he shuffled through his drawer.
"Grandma!" He yelled.
The phone stopped ringing, he could hear her voice as she said her loud, yet wavering 'hello.'
Suddenly the dogs started barking, startling KG. He stood up and walked towards the window. There were headlights shining against the brick back wall and then a car appeared.
Pookie," KG thought. Right on time. He needed someone to help him get his mind off things and Pookie was the one. He grabbed his car keys, but first walked into the bathroom to take a leak.
The bathroom was the same as if was since his father had been locked up. It seemed to be the only consistent thing in his life.
The fresh cinnamon scent made him smile. The perfectly folded towels he'd helped his grandmother fold were still so neat, it seemed the bathroom was staged for sale.
He stood over the toilet, peed and then glanced at the crocheted frog hanging on the wall and smiled. It was the same one he'd hated as a child. Dark green, big bulging eyes and long tongue the length of his head. As a kid, he'd damn near pee on himself trying to avoid the creepy thing. And every time he had to take a shit, he'd lean half his cheeks on the toilet just in case the green thing charged at him.
"Grandma," he heard Pookie yell. "Grandma wake up!"
KG jumped so hard, he caught an instant headache.
"KG!" Pookie yelled.
His heart dropped to the sound of his name. Pookie had never called him like that before.
"Grandma's not breathing," Pookie yelled. "She ain't breathing man!"
KG charged out the bathroom, jumped down the first flight of steps and then leaped over the banister. "Grandma!" he yelled.
"911. What's your emergency," a young voice asked over the phone.
"I need help! She's not breathing," Pookie yelled holding the phone to his ear.
KG rushed down to his grandmother. Her arm stretched outward as she laid in a fetal position. Her skin was cool to the touch and her eyes lagged open.
"Grandma," KG yelled shaking her lifeless body. "Grandma!"
Time stopped. Nothing in the world mattered. Nothing. Every second that passed, all he could wish for was for her eyes to jolt open and for her to say, "Just playing." She was jokester, just like his father. She was just alive. She was just content. But as he looked at her chest, it wasn't moving.
"Wake up!" He kept shaking her. "Tell them to hurry the fuck up," he yelled.
Pookie threw the phone down. He yanked her body so he could cradle her. Overlapping his hands against her chest, he pushed deep into her ribs. He jerked up and down against her chest to wake her heart. Over and over again. It wouldn't.
"Come on. Grandma. Come on," he said watching every little movement of her body.
"She's on her back," Pookie yelled back into the phone. "I'm trying," he yelled with tears overwhelming his speech. "I'm trying. She's not waking up."
KG watched as his cousin Pookie blew life into his grandmother. One breath at a time. He'd press down on her chest. Pump. Pump. Pump. Then cradle her mouth again.
Sirens could be heard all the way down the street. The sound was loud. The engine was roaring to get to them, but it still didn't seem fast enough.
"Come on Grandma. Please!"
