Loss of Touch
Adugo Okafor
The lampposts lined up along the street pavement flickered like dying fireflies when Rosie and Zora began to walk home. They might have spent a bit too long at Spiotta Park but that wasn’t Zora’s fault. A carnival was hosted there today and she wasn’t going to turn down free food. Plus her eight-year old sister refused to withdraw from the huddle of easily impressed toddlers watching a flamboyant magician yank a yard of tied multi-colored handkerchiefs out of his top hat. Now the sky had started to lose the orangish hue of the setting sun, gaining a more purple stain splattered with cotton pink clouds. Their gray-plaid skirts had long since gotten rumpled and soiled but luckily it’s a Friday. She doubts the nuns will break into their front door, point at their uniforms and chastise them for not being “proper ladies”.
“You think Mommy is home by now?” Her sister asked, tugging one of the pastel blue ribbons that bundled her braids. Whenever Rosie was anxious about anything as of late, Zora noticed she’s compelled to hold onto something. The maroon dining table cloth, the flimsy curtains that hung by their bedroom window, the navy blue railings of their school building. But holding Zora in some form usually calms her down so she takes Rosie’s left hand in hers as she has done countless times before.
“Her job ends at five. What makes you think she won’t be home?”
Rosie shrugged, focusing on the pebble her dusty, black shoe has been kicking for two minutes. “I don’t know. Mommy’s been acting super funny after Daddy went into the ground. She doesn’t pick us up from school anymore.”
Without knowing how time had flown, they arrived at their apartment building. It had that dull, rusty red color that made Zora wince if she looked too long. Four stories high with a long overdue renovation; Zora can flick her finger on a piece of the building’s bricks and a bit-sized chunk would pop out. She swears the black, patterned carpet at its entrance is much older than her. Not to mention most of the tenants, or at least their kids, are somewhat familiar with the Booker sisters. Ah yes, Ridgewood Apartments. Home sweet home.
February, however, had robbed them from seeing the sweet yellow daisies that tend to grow in the row of bushes pressed against its walls. So that’s a bummer.
Zora said while pushing the glass door, “Ro-ro I’m twelve. I can walk us home just fine.”
The middle-aged reception lady wasn’t there to greet them as usual, the Nortel landline ringing with no one available to answer. But Rosie was drawn to the hypnotic sound, struggling from Zora’s grasp with this foolish want to pick up the phone.
Zora pulled the stubborn girl into the elevator, rolling her eyes. “Mrs. Garcia will get it eventually. Now press three.”
She wishes their elevator had music like in those cartoon movies but only silence filled the space until a quiet ‘ding’ was heard. Exiting the elevator, Rosie’s hand was getting a little sweaty. Then out of nowhere, Rosie says, “I tried hugging Mommy yesterday and she didn’t hug me back. What if she doesn’t like me anymore?”
Zora froze, her hand stopped from turning their spare key to unlock the door. Until she laughed nonchalantly to say what could be the truth or a complete lie. “Rosie, Mom loves you. You got some funny questions today.”
Upon opening the door, her eyes soon landed on a hollow-eyed woman still in her black scrubs. Her registered nurse badge had been thrown carelessly on the tiled floor of the apartment. She was sitting on their old, worn-out beige sofa, swirling a glass of bourbon. The ice was reflected in her eyes and captured her ears, ears that held a fascination with its sharp clinging. Ears that appeared to care more about the clinks and clanks made from a glass of bourbon.
Zora shouted, “Mom? Mom! We’re back!” The breathing corpse jolted and whipped her head to the direction of the sound, relaxing upon realizing it was her children.
She smiled but it might as well have been filled with worms. “Yes I can see that. By the way, I picked up McDonalds after work, it’s in the kitchen.”
Zora shook her head, about to explain how they’ve eaten quite a lot at the park but Rosie squealed with glee, waving her arms in the air. “McDonalds again! Yes! Is there a Happy Meal?”
Her mother sighed, “Yes I got you your Happy Meal.” Rosie ran to the kitchen, ecstatic as their mother slowly stood up with her glass, heading towards an empty bedroom with too many memories. Zora was hanging up her backpack on the nailed rack when the older woman tilted her head to the side sluggishly, trying to maintain her failing grasp on the nauseatingly white walls.
She said, “I got a new job. It’s on weekends, I start on Sunday.”
Zora answered, not feeling as carefree as whenever she talks with Rosie. “That’s great Mom.”
She scratched her kinky, dark-brown hair mindlessly until the scrunchie came loose from its messy bun, “Your Aunt Jazz said I can’t leave you two alone in the house. So I’m bringing a babysitter, he’s a close friend of your Dad. Knew each other from college.”
Zora then asked, “Why can’t Aunt Jazz watch us? Her house is only a few blocks-
“Cuz it’s my life and your aunt ain’t in charge of it. She can think that all she wants. So you better mind your business and turn those lights off at nine.” She interrupted her daughter, raising her voice in that sharp tone to signal that the conversation was over.
After stumbling to her room and shutting the door, Rosie came running to the living room with a cheeseburger on a paper plate. She sat down on the couch, ready to grab the remote until Zora snatched it from her reach. “Wha-
“We have to wear our pajamas. Kim Possible isn’t on till eight.” She dutifully reminded the ball of energy, placing a hand on her hip. As expected, Rosie groaned obnoxiously and ran over to the dressers in their shared bedroom.
“Hey! I know you’re not taking that plate in our room! Did you even wash it?!”
Time had passed, the sisters did their nightly routine and now Zora held her baby blue blanket, laying across the sofa, watching Rosie dance in her matching cupcake pajamas and horribly sing the Kim Possible theme song. “Kim Possible! Call me beep me, you wanna reach me….na na na na it’s okay! Whenever you need me, maybe call me…”
It was playing on a Toshiba CRT TV. Dad had bought it two years ago on their last Christmas together. He carried the thing in a heavy box and dropped it like he was Santa Claus who had too much eggnog and that’s why he forgot to sneak in through the chimney. His laugh wasn’t that different either, though it was more gruff than jolly. Rosie grinning from ear to ear called him a black Santa that day and nobody could argue that. And he always did give the warmest hugs, lifting Rosie and her, shaking until they couldn’t stand straight.
“Babysitter…” She whispered to herself as the bright light from the television was starting to lure her to slumber. Rosie had settled down, criss-crossing her legs to focus on the screen with that cheeky smile that showed off two dimples of hers.
Zora is old enough isn’t she? She does all the errands around the house these days because who else is going to do it? Only halfway through seventh grade and she’s already a grown up.
Who needs some damn babysitter?
On Sunday morning, what remains of the Booker family had gathered to eat breakfast. Their mother, already dressed to head on to work, had gotten some leftover salad from the fridge. Rosie was munching on a bowl of Trix cereal and Zora had chosen Frosted Flakes instead.
There was a vacant chair at the right end of their table and none of them, not even Rosie, dared to sit there. For some reason, their mother remembered to ask Zora about her day at school yesterday. Her daughter stopped eating to reply as if she’s been waiting for that question for ages, “It was alright. Mrs. Nile kept running that mouth of hers about President Bush. She really wanted that Kerry guy to win.”
The lady heard a loud knocking on their door and got up to gaze through the peep-hole. She muttered bitterly, “It don’t matter to me. They’re all scumbags.”
And may the world know it today that dear Mrs. Tracy Booker welcomed some stranger into their old, worn-out beige sofa on a chilly, Saturday afternoon like he was a long-lost relative of theirs. And Zora had to greet this rando in her butter and cream nightgown with a shy Rosie, clenching it in her fists.
He was probably in his mid-thirties. A man with lighter skin than hers and a permed afro that was practically black noodles glued onto his hair. He was wearing a white polo with an oversized jean jacket along with some baggy, walnut cargo pants. His sneakers were an ugly pair of black and gray too. Just give him an orange, New York Yankees hat and he’s every guy she’ve seen lounging on the benches of a basketball court. And those pearly white teeth gave a pretty genuine smile so Zora felt a few of her nerves calm down. It’s been a while since she’s seen some of those from someone who isn’t Ro-ro.
He spoke in this deep, velvety voice that put her more at ease. It was welcoming. “Look who we have here! My, when your pops called he’d go on and on about you two. Feisty little troublemakers aren’t you?”
Well, now he annoyed her so she crossed arms indignantly, “I’m not a troublemaker! In fact, last year I won the most well-behaved student award in my class.”
She said that last part with a proud smile and the man returned her smile with a simple, “I’m sure you are.”
Mrs. Booker cleared her throat and patted the new caretaker’s back. “Zora, Rosie this is Mr.Wesley. He’s going to be watching you two on Saturdays and Sundays so you better behave.”
The man playfully smacked her hand away while reaching into the army green backpack he brought. “Oh c’mon Tracey, they can call me Uncle Kevin. Look, I got a little something for you.” A jar of lollipops was pulled out of his bag of mysteries, causing Rosie to gasp but then restrain herself to look expectantly at their mother. They weren’t supposed to take sweets from strangers.
“You can have some. Say thank you before you finish them all. Kev we talked about payment last week, I gotta go. I’ll be back by six.” Mrs. Booker said, getting up from the chair to leave once her flip phone started to buzz.
Rosie smiled, rushing to the jar now that her mom wasn’t looking. “Thank you Uncle Kevin! I’ve never had an uncle before!”
The colorless, wooden door shut and Kevin directed his undivided attention to Zora. “You’re not gonna have any?”
She shrugged, looking off to the side. “I don’t like candy that much- Ro! Don’t take all of them!”
The little girl had grabbed seven in her grubby hands, all different flavors from blueberry, watermelon, cherry, and apple. She rubbed her eye with her right arm, “What? You want one Zo-zo?”
Kevin wiggled his eyebrows and smirked to slide the nickname out of his lips like silk. “Yeah, Zo-zo?” Her heart skipped but maggots blossomed in her stomach, burrowing through intestines as she snatched a lemon lollipop from the transparent jar, swiftly removed its’ wrapper and plopped it in her mouth.
She retorted, “No one calls me that except Rosie. Got it?” In the back of her mind, Zora wondered whether she should be talking back to this guy. He isn’t those jerkwads in her gym class that Zora can kick their butts because they said she hits the ball like a girl. Kevin is an adult and she doesn’t like adults. They’re all no-good know-it-alls that shut her up by using fancy talk. But to her surprise, Kevin didn’t scold her for speaking rudely but instead raised his hands in the air, admitting his mistake.
“Oh I see. Don’t worry I got it princess. So…how do you spend your weekends?” This man is interesting, Zora thought while stroking her chin. She then stretched her hands over the peach-colored scarf used to tie around her black, natural hair.
“I gotta sweep everywhere, clean the toilet, empty the trash bin, tidy up Mom & Dad’s room, do the laundry, and change our bed sheets. I don’t know what lunch is yet but a peanut butter and jelly sandwich sounds good-
Kevin stopped her mid-rambling, now choosing to stand up which made Zora realize how big he is. The Empire State Building towering over her that’s what he was. She wanted to shrink but he showed off those teeth again while shoving his hands into the pockets of mystery.
He chuckled, “Woah, woah. Take a chill pill. How about you and Rosie get into something nice while I handle the rest?”
Zora wishes she was standing in front of a mirror solely to see the bafflement written on her face. And apparently it was down right obvious because Kevin took his right hand, it had a large sheeny scar on the back of it, to pat her on the head.
He spoke almost sympathetically, “You do know that’s what babysitters are for? Right?”
Great, now he thinks Zora’s got a dodo brain.
She shooed his hand away, pouting from embarrassment. “Uh duh. I knew that.”
Rosie suddenly dropped the four lollipops that were still in her hands to grab Zora’s. Only problem was she had three others in her mouth, poking out from both cheeks so the panicky words that were spoken came out as gibberish. “Shora let’s shet shanged or we’ll mish Bwus Cweus!~”
Zora responded with a very understandable “what?!” until she was pushed against her will into the bathroom as Kevin said nothing but laugh, laugh, and laugh on repeat.
When they had returned wearing tie-dye shirts and leggings, Kevin had removed his jacket and thrown it over the sofa. Her eyes widened as he looked ripped, like those men in those magazines next to a bottle of pills Zora managed to find underneath her mother’s pillow last week when cleaning up her room. With that firetruck red ‘Men’s Health’ logo and a skimpy, soaked shirt that didn’t look comfortable at all. Who’d want to wear a wet t-shirt?
Except Kevin had patches of sweat under his armpits even though it wasn’t hot in the slightest. As if he’d done a full workout, it did gross her out a little. He was wiping the dining table with this visceral expression when he saw them return, switching to a calm smile and sending a whistle their way before continuing his work. She had raised an eyebrow at this but shrugged it off as there might’ve been a tough stain on the table. Rosie had turned on the tv and without looking, pressed the numbers on their remote that’ll lead them to the Nickelodeon channel.
Zora personally found Blue Clues boring so she zoned off, watching Rosie lay on the ground while kicking her feet, completely tuned in.
Kevin was weird. But it was a funny kind of weird. He wasn’t like any grown-up she’d ever seen. Not to mention he’ll be doing all her weekend chores from now on so heck, Zora is going to relish this by sitting upside down on the couch, with her brown, lanky legs in the air wearing the goofiest grin she’s made in months.
She didn’t know ‘babysitter’ was another word for maid.
The rest of the day had passed in a breeze and before they knew it, the time read a quarter to six.
“Rosie, you need to let me go. I promised to meet your mama downstairs.” She had latched her entire body to his left leg that had tried to take one step outside. It didn’t take much to lock in Ro-ro, besides the candy all he had to do was a floating magic trick with the stash of cards he’d brought and she was sold for life. Zora however, would not be so easily bought out. This is a business capiche? He gets paid, she gets to do nothing for two days. A win-win.
“But I don’t want Uncle Kevin to leave!”
He effortlessly pried her grip off his leg and knelt down to her level. “I’ll be back next week. Now give your uncle a hug.” Rosie’s lips trembled but she did as told and came in closer. But right then, Zora, who was leaning up on the wall closeby to watch the dramatics unfold, felt a firm arm snake over her back to force her into a group hug. One in which Kevin then got up with a speed Zora barely registered to shake them left and right. Left and right and maybe he shook her hard enough to where his face blurred into her dad for a sliver in time. With his shiny egg-head, golden brown eyes, and a well-groomed beard that never got shaven.
It felt like an eternity when he finally dropped them, his hold on Zora lingering for a few more seconds than Rosie. But in a flash it was gone and Kevin said his goodbyes and left with the apartment’s exit slightly open. Zora can tell her younger sister felt better about the separation but not by a lot. As a frown followed shortly after his disappearance.
Rosie said dejectedly, “I want next week to come now. Did you like him Zo?” Zora hadn’t realized when a giddy smile had stretched a mile and a half across her face. How did that happen? She quickly fixed it to look disinterested, so Rosie couldn’t get any silly ideas.
“Are you kidding? He smelled like a sweaty hot dog.”
March
“You too got any homework?” Mr. Babysitter asked, lying casually on the floor in a black undershirt and skinny jeans. Zora was eating the Kraft Mac n Cheese she made on the sofa alongside Rosie, just a few feet away from Kevin. It’s times like this where she wished they could live in a house of their own. With a spiral staircase she and Ro-ro can slide down and a room Zora can call hers. The walls will be a flamingo pink and have paintings of blobs on them. Ones she could always point to and laugh at when she had a bad school day.
But whenever Zora takes one step into this apartment, it’s only the stench of death that awaits her. It entraps Zora with its toxic gas and wraps its decaying arms around her. It wants to take out the Booker family, killed Dad two years ago and it’s too late for Mom. But Zora isn’t dying yet and neither is Rosie. She’ll make sure of it.
She answered, “I got some math to do but I don’t get these stupid fractions-”
“Well I do! Used to be a math genius back in the day. Bring it here, we’ll do it together.” Kevin said while grinning, a little too happy for Zora’s liking. Anyone who gets excited over math is a weirdo, no doubt about it. But she shrugged and retrieved her assignment, hitching her breath when Kevin dragged the forbidden chair at their table, screeching its cylinder legs to sit right beside her.
When his time to depart came, Kevin gave his hug that has become the standard at this point. It was now Zora’s favorite part of the week. Though this time he paused before exiting the Booker mortuary. “I forgot to ask, how old are you, Zora?”
Guess she never told him. She responded, “I’m twelve. Why?”
He then whispered the following words in her ear, words that remained with Zora until they met again. Making her insides bubble like sparkling pop because finally. Finally someone who respects her.
“You don’t look twelve.”
April
“And then Zo said that she slapped him into outer space! Like this! Pow!” Rosie was re-enacting the events of Thursday to Kevin in her orange and white polka dot dress. Sitting on the kitchen counter, chewing on a banana while Zora helped Kevin make spaghetti. The string pasta was hheating up in a pot that was no more the stainless steel as when it was purchased. The discoloration was scattered as rainbow circles laid at the bottom and brown splotches corrupted its handles.
Zora fetched some tomatoes and onion from the fridge. She added on to the story, “That sicko Fred should’ve expected it when he pulled up my skirt! Just who does he think he is? And somehow I get detention because I was making a big deal out of nothing?!”
She laid them out on the cutting board, struggling to find the right position to continue slicing after breaking the onion in half when Kevin suddenly pressed his body weight onto her back. Her mind blanked for a couple seconds because he was heavy. It wasn’t like when Rosie would jump on top of her, demanding piggyback rides on the way home from school. And that’s not mentioning the collected manner he placed his rough hands over her meager ones.
“You’re cutting yourself for sure if you hold it like that. You gotta put your hand right there….”
Five forty-five approached and this time, Zora reciprocated the hug and even thanked him for teaching her how to make boring old spaghetti.
May
“You can drop her on our bed. Once she’s asleep, nothing in this world is gonna wake her up.” Zora muttered, smiling at Rosie’s drool and how Kevin laid her down, lying like a starfish. His oversized, vintage black hoodie had a skull with a tiny, flashy red motorcycle under it. He closed the door behind him and spoke in a quiet voice.
“I yoinked a dvd on my ride here.” His substantial curly hair bounced as he led the way back into the parlor and revealed the item in his backpack. A dvd that displayed a giant ship at the bottom half, one that Zora would spend the rest of life dreaming she could ride in. Above it was a man and a woman, they looked awfully happy although the girl’s arms being so wide open reminded her of Jesus nailed to the cross. Straight in the middle, in a large silver and gold font was the title “Titanic”.
There might’ve been a day when her history teacher said that word but it’s only a vague memory now. Kevin ran to turn off the lights so it was mostly dark except for the faint light escaping the curtains by the window and the fuzzy luminescence of an ash-colored television. After putting the disk in, the man patted the space next to his side and Zora complied, seeing a hand thrown over her side of the couch when he pressed ‘play’.
The first forty minutes were uneventful. Nothing was happening and she was about to come up with an excuse to leave when they got to the scene shown on the dvd cover. Jack and Rose had stepped onto the rails, Rose spreading apart her arms to say “I’m flying!” Which had gotten a giggle out of her because no, no she obviously wasn’t. And almost immediately, their lips collided as the wind flowed through their hair, the gorgeous view being ignored. Zora’s hands flew to cover her eyes and she soon heard a chilling laughter not from the screen that made her skin prickle.
“What is it babycakes? You can’t see a lil’ kissing?” Her dad, when Saturday movie nights hadn’t gone extinct, used to cover Zora and Rosie’s eyes whenever a kiss scene appeared. Mom would elbow him in the ribs jokingly when the scene had long ended but his hands hadn’t moved. Then he’d pull them altogether into a warm embrace until the black and white credits rolled.
She sniffed, removing her hands to fiddle with her fingers. “I can. It’s just a bad habit.”
It only took thirty minutes for Zora to make a loud yelp because Rose had taken her robe off in order to be drawn like “Jack’s french girls” and she could see everything. It made her itch, Zora should’ve slept with Rosie when she had the chance. But if she left now, Uncle Kevin will think she’s a wuss so she sucked it up and watched the entire scene.
But her eyes began to droop rather quickly and somehow her head was no longer on the sofa but instead on a vintage, black hoodie with an ominous skull on it. It had something else too but she can’t…. remember.
“Put your hands on me Jack.”
The sensual kisses and breathing sounds faded into static.
June
The sisters were licking Kevin’s popsicle sticks on the living room floor, waiting for him to return from his cranberry BMW 3 Series Convertible. Mrs. Booker had left as usual this Sunday morning but then called an hour ago Kevin to say she wouldn’t be returning at six. The reason as to why wasn’t told to Zora, all she knew is they were heading over to Aunt Jazz’s house. It was close by so she brushed aside Kevin’s complaints about them walking, hurriedly stuffing a large paper bag with their nightwear, school uniform, and supplies they’ll use for the night.
It’s been forever since she’s seen Aunt Jazz. The only thing that comes to mind about her is the gap between her two front teeth and how unnerving it looked once in a Grinch smile every time she told Zora the same spooky stories before bed. Not Rosie though, she would be terrified out of her socks, having already ran to the bathroom. Hiding from monsters created from a figment of lies and their other Aunt Cassie would need to soothe her fears beyond the door despite snickering herself. So once Kevin had come back up saying he’d wait here till her mother arrived, Zora took this as the opportunity to head out.
It was eight pm, when the distant noise of crickets floods her senses and irritates her eardrums.
She held their things in one hand and Rosie’s somewhat sticky palm in the other.
Rosie exclaimed happily, “Bye, Uncle Kevin!”
Zora, for the first time, said smiling in an honest tone, “Bye Uncle Kevin.”
The walk to her house was mostly quiet, Rosie got distracted by a ladybug on the sidewalk but that’s nothing new. Until she asked one of those weird questions again, “You think Uncle Kevin can marry Mommy?”
“What?!”
Rosie hopped over a fallen branch. “I don’t know when Daddy is coming back. So Uncle Kevin can keep her company till he comes back. Then we’ll all be one, big happy family.”
Except Dad is probably a pile of bones right now. Zora lies to her just like usual, “Yeah. That’d be nice. He’d love Uncle Kevin’s beef stew.” It was then she gazed up at a lemon house that was built on the right of a convenience store that sold cigarettes and headphones.
Three knocks later and her aunt’s girlfriend opens the door. Adjusting her glasses because she couldn’t believe her eyes. “Rosie! Zora! Oh my god it’s been forever! Come in, come in you’ve gotten so tall! Did your mama drop you here?”
She was a plump woman in her late twenties. Her hair was in a puff and she had a minimal-looking rose tattooed on her lower right arm. A green, floral dress floated gracefully like a butterfly but could never sting like a bee.
Man she missed Aunt Cassie too. Rosie answered, “No, we walked here. I saw a ladybug!”
“Huh? It’s too late for you girls to be walking outside alone. Now why would Tracey…” A frustrated sigh overcame her before finishing that sentence. She instead ushered them to the evergreen, soft cushions of her sofa. “Your aunt just came back from work and passed out on the bed. Zora, baby you could turn the tv on. I gotta call your mama, maybe she’ll answer this time.”
She went into the hallway, into the guest bedroom to use the wall phone. Zora was reaching for the remote when her heart dropped into her bowels. “I left my bookbag.”
Zora has only done one page of her four-page science packet about frog dissections that is due tomorrow. But no matter, it’s only a five minute walk from here. Uncle Kevin could open the door for her.
She whispered, “Ro, I need to head back and get my homework. Don’t tell Aunt Cassie okay? Tell her I’m in the bathroom.” She didn’t give Rosie any time to reply, having left to silently shut the door and rush back to Ridgewood Apartments.
Rosie was blissfully watching Spongebob and Patrick on the tv when Aunt Cassie walked in, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Your mama isn’t answering the phone, called a million times. Where’s your sister?”
That’s right, Zora had disappeared a couple minutes ago. She’s supposed to tell Aunt Cassie that Zo is in the bathroom.
“She went back home.” The truth slipped out like maple syrup, her eyes bulging once she realized her mistake. No, no, no, Zora’s gonna kill her.
“Went back to do what?” Aunt Cassie was already pushing the soles of her feet into her white and blue Nike shoes.
“Uh….get homework?” Rosie said nervously and gulped. Once the door was locked on the outside, she slowly turned her head and waited for her doom. Twenty minutes had gone by and Rosie had begun to wonder what’s taking them so long. But instantly, the room was dipped into chaos when the door flew open out of nowhere, startling Rosie. She leapt out of the sofa to explain slip-up to Zo but froze upon seeing the bewildering fright on Aunt Cassie’s face. She looked scared, Aunt Cassie isn’t scared of anything. She was huffing and puffing out of breath, did she run all the way back? But then her eyes fell on a Zora who was shaking profusely with saliva dripping from her mouth. There was blood on her fingernails, her arms limp at her sides and her short-sleeved, lavender shirt had been ripped from the collar to the middle of her back.
She looked smaller than usual. Like a graze of a finger is going to whisk her away. Why is she shaking so much? It hasn’t been cold in months.
Aunt Cassie screeched on the top of her lungs, dashing up the stairs. “Jasmine! Jasmine! Get in here now! Jasmine!”
The house was spinning and only Rosie was standing still. She was so lost it was making her dizzy. So she asked Zora what’s going on because she always knows what to do.
“He hugged me.”
Rosie barely heard it even though she’s two feet away. She stared in confusion as Zora’s lips opened and closed like those fish in her homeroom’s fish tank at school.
Ohhhh. She broke out a delighted smile when she realized who that meant. “You mean Uncle Kevin? He gives the best hugs doesn’t he? Just like Daddy-”
“He hugged me everywhere.”
The words trembled and fled from her mouth as it belonged to another. Drenched in sullen grease and tar and ooze. Rosie doesn’t really get why that’s a bad thing but Zora wasn’t holding any papers or pencils. Maybe she couldn’t find it and Uncle Kevin tried to cheer her up. Rosie’s first thought was to reach for Zora’s hand, that never failed to make her feel better but her sister flinched when their fingers barely touched. Shifting away with a look of terror and falling towards the back of the couch, the tv still playing in the background.
Rosie was stunned beyond belief that she couldn’t try to understand Aunt Jazz and Aunt Cassie’s yelling. Not that it would matter, facing Zora completely meant she couldn’t see any of them. It was just incoherent noise along with phone dialing to her.
“What do you mean he drove off?! Who the fuck is Uncle Kevin?! Where the fuck is Tracey?!”
“Jazz all I know is I got her away from him, he closed that car door and sped to God knows where! Zora, sweetheart, don’t move, just stay right there! Uh-huh yes, that is our address, please come here quick-”
Another door slamming had Rosie stepping to Zora, her eyebrows turnt downwards and arms spread apart to hold her. To tell Zo that it’s okay and even though nothing is making sense that she’s the bravest person Rosie knows.
Her arms, however, were smacked away and Zora stood up to yell at her in a cracking voice with scorching tears leaking from her eyes. “No more hugs!!!”
The older girl ran into the bathroom parallel to the guest room where they would be staying, turning the lock. A rock had smashed into Rosie’s chest and it took everything in her to not start wailing. She ran over to the house’s entrance but discovered that this door too was locked. It took a few tries but she managed to lift herself onto the window ledge directly next to the door. Pushing the curtains aside, her hazelnut eyes strained themselves to make out Aunt Cassie and Aunt Jazz on the front lawn.
Then a couple minutes later, her mother’s car showed up at a lightning speed and parked perpendicular to the house. Mrs. Booker exited the vehicle, no coordination in sight with her hair a complete mess and light blue scrubs that had a bunch of orangish-yellow drops on it. Holding some kind of bottle that Rosie couldn’t make out no matter how hard she squinted.
What she could make out was a bizarre thing: Aunt Jazz slapping her mother hard, knocking her off her feet and Aunt Cassie having to secure a strong grip to prevent the furious woman from going even further. If someone can get slapped into outer space, Aunt Jazz just slapped their mother straight down to hell.
“Don’t hit Mommy! Don’t hit her!” She banged on the glass but it made no difference at all. She was invisible and the door wasn’t budging one bit. Rosie ran to the bathroom where another locked door and the sound of water running confirmed that Zora was in there.
She was about to shout for her but then a frantic, disgusted shriek echoed back. Echoed back harrowingly. “Zora! Zora open the door! Aunt Jazz is hitting Mommy!”
No reply.
“Zora what happened?! What happened?!”
No reply.
The crying soon followed as she kept beating the sealed door.“Zora I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to snitch! I’m sorry I won’t do it again I promise! Please don’t hate me!”
It didn’t take long for her to give up. She slid down, her back rubbing against the bathroom door. Curling herself into a ball on the marble floor, letting the sounds of water gushing out of the bathtub’s tap and police sirens lull her into a dreamless slumber.
To sleep amongst the living and allow Zora to lie awake in her watery grave.
Adugo Okafor is in her junior year, majoring in criminal justice with a psychology and creative writing minors. Her hometown is East Orange, NJ and she plays the viola and can speak Igbo.