How to Knock a Bravebird from Her Perch : The First Novel in the Morrow Girls Series (9780985751616) by D. Bryant Simmons Page A
Authors: D. Bryant Simmons
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friend.”
“Men and women can’t be friends unless he funny. He funny?”
“No. I mean...maybe. How should I know, Auntie?”
Bits of chicken flesh flew up in the air and she waited until the racket of blade against bone calmed down and I’d shoved the pan of seasoned chicken parts into the oven. Then Clara snickered and followed me around the kitchen like a bloodhound that just caught his favorite scent. “I been keeping quiet around here for too long. Thinking maybe you’d see your way through this. But you in it deep now.”
“In what, Auntie?”
“In this man. Running off to meet him...God knows where...”
“We just friends.”
“Pecan girl, I reckon you better get to being a damn fine liar if you plan to keep this up.”
“Keep what up, Auntie? How about chicken and gravy for supper?”
“Who is he, Pecan? What’s his name? Hmm? Messiah? Tessiah?”
“Where you get that from?”
“Nikki. You know she love to talk. She talk all day about things that ain’t none of her business. She talk just hoping that somebody listening. You know that, don’t you?”
I washed my hands and started in on the laundry. I folded each piece until we had a couple of nice stacks. She followed me around the house as I put stuff away. Clara was determined to get something outta me. She hit me with one question after another. Eventually, I stopped trying to answer them and just shrugged my shoulders instead. It wasn’t really a secret anymore. I didn’t care who knew. Supper smelt so good, that’s what I was worried about. I ain’t want it to burn up.
“HAVE YOU LOST YO’ MIND, PECAN? HAVE YOU?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t think so.”
“You got four babies out there that need they mama! And you got a man that’s crazy.”
“That ain’t my fault. He’d be crazy no matter what I did. Why you don’t talk to him about his craziness? Instead of putting it on me...”
“You a grown woman, Pecan. You know what you doing. You know. You gone mess around and get yourself killed!”
“Least I got to have some happiness before it happened.”
She stumbled backwards into one of the kitchen chairs, clutching her chest like my words had hurt her. Never seen Clara hurt before. If anybody was invincible it was her. Fact was, I thought she’d be happy for me, proud of me even. In my way, I was living my life. Doing what I wanted to do. I was lying, sneaking, and hiding things but it was the most free I’d felt in a long time. Clara ain’t see it like that.
“Don’t be stupid, girl.”
“I ain’t stupid! Heziah...he loves me, Auntie. He really loves me. Ain’t I got a right to that?”
She saw the tears in my eyes and swore sending specks of her spit flying across the room. “You wanna leave Ricky, leave him. Leave him but don’t you dare leave him for another man. Some men big enough to handle that. But your husband, my nephew, he ain’t one of them. You hear me?” She rose up from the chair and her hands dug into my shoulders not willing to accept anything other than a yes ma’am. “I can’t take that. You hear me, girl? I can’t take nothing happening to you.”
“Auntie...”
“Now I know it ain’t fair. Ricky act like a fool on a regular basis. I ain’t gone lie about that but it is what it is. You can’t do this, Pecan. You got too much to lose.”
I watched Ricky that night. Watched him real close, just like folks watch the lion in the zoo, looking for some sign of the wild beast they know is in there but he ate in his own silence. The supper table was always full of giggles and the clanging of spoons and forks and plates. But he just sat there in the middle of it all, not saying a word, not looking at a soul. And Clara sat watching me watch him. He seemed smaller somehow. Not like the man I married. The man who loved to make me scared of him.
“Why you staring at me, Pecan?” His words jarred me back to reality and shut down all other talk at the table. “Hmm?”
“Just
“Men and women can’t be friends unless he funny. He funny?”
“No. I mean...maybe. How should I know, Auntie?”
Bits of chicken flesh flew up in the air and she waited until the racket of blade against bone calmed down and I’d shoved the pan of seasoned chicken parts into the oven. Then Clara snickered and followed me around the kitchen like a bloodhound that just caught his favorite scent. “I been keeping quiet around here for too long. Thinking maybe you’d see your way through this. But you in it deep now.”
“In what, Auntie?”
“In this man. Running off to meet him...God knows where...”
“We just friends.”
“Pecan girl, I reckon you better get to being a damn fine liar if you plan to keep this up.”
“Keep what up, Auntie? How about chicken and gravy for supper?”
“Who is he, Pecan? What’s his name? Hmm? Messiah? Tessiah?”
“Where you get that from?”
“Nikki. You know she love to talk. She talk all day about things that ain’t none of her business. She talk just hoping that somebody listening. You know that, don’t you?”
I washed my hands and started in on the laundry. I folded each piece until we had a couple of nice stacks. She followed me around the house as I put stuff away. Clara was determined to get something outta me. She hit me with one question after another. Eventually, I stopped trying to answer them and just shrugged my shoulders instead. It wasn’t really a secret anymore. I didn’t care who knew. Supper smelt so good, that’s what I was worried about. I ain’t want it to burn up.
“HAVE YOU LOST YO’ MIND, PECAN? HAVE YOU?”
“No. Maybe. I don’t think so.”
“You got four babies out there that need they mama! And you got a man that’s crazy.”
“That ain’t my fault. He’d be crazy no matter what I did. Why you don’t talk to him about his craziness? Instead of putting it on me...”
“You a grown woman, Pecan. You know what you doing. You know. You gone mess around and get yourself killed!”
“Least I got to have some happiness before it happened.”
She stumbled backwards into one of the kitchen chairs, clutching her chest like my words had hurt her. Never seen Clara hurt before. If anybody was invincible it was her. Fact was, I thought she’d be happy for me, proud of me even. In my way, I was living my life. Doing what I wanted to do. I was lying, sneaking, and hiding things but it was the most free I’d felt in a long time. Clara ain’t see it like that.
“Don’t be stupid, girl.”
“I ain’t stupid! Heziah...he loves me, Auntie. He really loves me. Ain’t I got a right to that?”
She saw the tears in my eyes and swore sending specks of her spit flying across the room. “You wanna leave Ricky, leave him. Leave him but don’t you dare leave him for another man. Some men big enough to handle that. But your husband, my nephew, he ain’t one of them. You hear me?” She rose up from the chair and her hands dug into my shoulders not willing to accept anything other than a yes ma’am. “I can’t take that. You hear me, girl? I can’t take nothing happening to you.”
“Auntie...”
“Now I know it ain’t fair. Ricky act like a fool on a regular basis. I ain’t gone lie about that but it is what it is. You can’t do this, Pecan. You got too much to lose.”
I watched Ricky that night. Watched him real close, just like folks watch the lion in the zoo, looking for some sign of the wild beast they know is in there but he ate in his own silence. The supper table was always full of giggles and the clanging of spoons and forks and plates. But he just sat there in the middle of it all, not saying a word, not looking at a soul. And Clara sat watching me watch him. He seemed smaller somehow. Not like the man I married. The man who loved to make me scared of him.
“Why you staring at me, Pecan?” His words jarred me back to reality and shut down all other talk at the table. “Hmm?”
“Just
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