sleep it off."
"No. I'm as sober as I'll ever be."
He leaned toward me to kiss me and I put my hand against his cheek and pushed him away. He resisted, pushing himself forward until he forced my hand away and brought his lips to mine. I screamed and, using both my hands on his shoulders, shoved him away.
"What, do I have bad breath or something?" he asked. "Take it easy."
"We can't do this. You've got to get out of this room," I said.
"Why?"
"We'll never be lovers. Brody. Forget the whole idea," I said as firmly as I could.
"Why don't you like me? Do you think I'm some sort of spoiled brat like my sister? I work hard. I don't take anything for granted and I'll never take you for granted. Rain."
"That's not it. Brody. I like you."
"You think my family will be opposed? You think because they're from white Southern families, they'll object to you because you're AfricanAmerican? If they did that. I wouldn't care. They'd lose me." he promised.
I shook my head.
"Brody, please stop."
He grabbed my left hand and started to bring it to his lips. "Stop it. Brady!" I shouted, pulling my hand roughly from his.
"What? You think you're better than me. or something? Is that it?"
"Think what you want. Only get out," I said sharply.
"There are lots of girls who wouldn't throw me out of their bedrooms." he bragged, his ego bruised.
"Good. Go to them," I said.
I hated being this mean. but I had to. I told myself. I had to be meaner still.
"You're too young for me," I continued. "And you're still a boy. The years between us don't even begin to suggest the differences. I'm worlds older than you and I don't want any relationships. I told you that. I don't know what gave you the idea we could be lovers,"
"Me neither." he said angrily.
"So then, go to sleep. Let me sleep." I cried.
In the darkness he couldn't see the tears streaming down my cheeks. If he had, he would not have understood what really poured them over my lids.
"Sure. Go back to England,'" he said. "You'll be sorry. I sure had you pegged wrong."
"That's right," I said. You pegged me wrong." I covered my face with my hands.
He stood there staring at me for a few moments and then he left my bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him.
"Oh Mother," I cried. "you don't know how much pain you continue to put into your own children."
I fell back to the pillow and turned to smother my tears in it. I couldn't fall back to sleep. About twenty or so minutes later. I heard Brady stomp past my room.
"Have a good life," he cried and pounded down the stairs.
"Brody!" I shouted.
I got up and charged after him. The front door slammed shut as I hurried down the stairs. By the time I got outside, he was in his car, revving it up angrily. He spun it around, the tires squealing, and shot down the driveway.
"Brody!" I called after him, running down the steps.
A few seconds later, the taillights of his car disappeared in the darkness
He was gone.
5
Unburied Sins
.
It was a nightmare so powerful it became real.
People are afraid of their dreams, not because they will toss and turn in their sleep and wake up sweating, even crying. No, they are afraid of their dreams because they believe their dreams might be
predictions, turning their imaginings into terrible prophesies.
I didn't fall back to sleep for hours after Brody had left in that wild, angry rage. When I finally did. I saw those two red taillights growing in my mind, first into furious eyes and then merging into one large ball of fire that exploded along with the ringing of the telephone, raining down hot embers out of a thunderous, black sky above me.
After waking to the phone's ringing. I felt my heart pounding like a tom-tom, stealing my breath and filling my lungs with vibrations that reverberated down my spine to the ends of my feet. The phone rang and rang. I sat up, turned and lifted the receiver.
"Hello," I said.
Silence, deep and ominous followed without anyone speaking. "Brody? Is that you?"
I heard a great, deep groan. "Brody?" "He's
"No. I'm as sober as I'll ever be."
He leaned toward me to kiss me and I put my hand against his cheek and pushed him away. He resisted, pushing himself forward until he forced my hand away and brought his lips to mine. I screamed and, using both my hands on his shoulders, shoved him away.
"What, do I have bad breath or something?" he asked. "Take it easy."
"We can't do this. You've got to get out of this room," I said.
"Why?"
"We'll never be lovers. Brody. Forget the whole idea," I said as firmly as I could.
"Why don't you like me? Do you think I'm some sort of spoiled brat like my sister? I work hard. I don't take anything for granted and I'll never take you for granted. Rain."
"That's not it. Brody. I like you."
"You think my family will be opposed? You think because they're from white Southern families, they'll object to you because you're AfricanAmerican? If they did that. I wouldn't care. They'd lose me." he promised.
I shook my head.
"Brody, please stop."
He grabbed my left hand and started to bring it to his lips. "Stop it. Brady!" I shouted, pulling my hand roughly from his.
"What? You think you're better than me. or something? Is that it?"
"Think what you want. Only get out," I said sharply.
"There are lots of girls who wouldn't throw me out of their bedrooms." he bragged, his ego bruised.
"Good. Go to them," I said.
I hated being this mean. but I had to. I told myself. I had to be meaner still.
"You're too young for me," I continued. "And you're still a boy. The years between us don't even begin to suggest the differences. I'm worlds older than you and I don't want any relationships. I told you that. I don't know what gave you the idea we could be lovers,"
"Me neither." he said angrily.
"So then, go to sleep. Let me sleep." I cried.
In the darkness he couldn't see the tears streaming down my cheeks. If he had, he would not have understood what really poured them over my lids.
"Sure. Go back to England,'" he said. "You'll be sorry. I sure had you pegged wrong."
"That's right," I said. You pegged me wrong." I covered my face with my hands.
He stood there staring at me for a few moments and then he left my bedroom, slamming the door closed behind him.
"Oh Mother," I cried. "you don't know how much pain you continue to put into your own children."
I fell back to the pillow and turned to smother my tears in it. I couldn't fall back to sleep. About twenty or so minutes later. I heard Brady stomp past my room.
"Have a good life," he cried and pounded down the stairs.
"Brody!" I shouted.
I got up and charged after him. The front door slammed shut as I hurried down the stairs. By the time I got outside, he was in his car, revving it up angrily. He spun it around, the tires squealing, and shot down the driveway.
"Brody!" I called after him, running down the steps.
A few seconds later, the taillights of his car disappeared in the darkness
He was gone.
5
Unburied Sins
.
It was a nightmare so powerful it became real.
People are afraid of their dreams, not because they will toss and turn in their sleep and wake up sweating, even crying. No, they are afraid of their dreams because they believe their dreams might be
predictions, turning their imaginings into terrible prophesies.
I didn't fall back to sleep for hours after Brody had left in that wild, angry rage. When I finally did. I saw those two red taillights growing in my mind, first into furious eyes and then merging into one large ball of fire that exploded along with the ringing of the telephone, raining down hot embers out of a thunderous, black sky above me.
After waking to the phone's ringing. I felt my heart pounding like a tom-tom, stealing my breath and filling my lungs with vibrations that reverberated down my spine to the ends of my feet. The phone rang and rang. I sat up, turned and lifted the receiver.
"Hello," I said.
Silence, deep and ominous followed without anyone speaking. "Brody? Is that you?"
I heard a great, deep groan. "Brody?" "He's
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