Read Online GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) by Tiana Laveen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tiana Laveen
Tags: Fiction
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leaving work early, I could lose my income, and I really need this job. I’m doing the best I can.”
The old man’s lips drooped as his mood turned sullen, but he remained quiet, folded within himself like the wrinkles on his face.
“I’m not getting any help from the rest of the family. Everyone is too busy to help, or so they say. They barely even give anything financially, yet expect me to do everything. When was the last time Uncle Len, your friend Kasey, or any of them visited you? This is ridiculous! Every time you call, I run to you, and it’s gettin’ crazy. Now you’re calling me about Lysol in some beans! NO ONE PUT LYSOL IN YOUR BEANS, PAW! No one is tryna kill you!” A surge of anger roared through him. He had to break through, make the man see. “No one is trying to toss you around like a ball, either. Knowin’ you, you were putting up a fight and things got out of hand. These people are trying to help you, not hurt you, but you’re making it hard for all of us.”
The old man visibly swallowed, but he’d pushed Zenith beyond the point of return.
“I take you out to eat. I come visit regularly. I send you things, because I love you, okay? Because you raised me, and you deserve respect. You say I don’t respect you, but Paw, you know I do. You’ve taught me how to be a man, and that’s what I’m upholding, by doing right by you, but I’m just one person. I’m doing the best I can.”
He wouldn’t dare admit it to the man, for it would only be used against him, but he hated that he had to put Paw in a home. The remorse at times was unbearable, but what could he do? The man had begun to display some rather odd behavior, and after a heart attack, a physical altercation with a neighbor, the theft of thirty-two pairs of tube socks from Target in size 5-7 boys, and him driving on the wrong side of the road with a suspended license then arguing with the police—well, it was time for an intervention.
“Zen, I know you’re doing the best you can, son… I know.” The old man lay on his side and pulled the sheets up around him, real slow and tired like. Zenith stepped closer and nestled a quilt Mawmaw had made around the old man’s body. The fabric in colors of cantaloupe and crocodile green were soft, but worn, warm and comforting.
…I miss Mawmaw so much…
As he pulled the thing up a bit further around the man’s body, he noticed another purplish bruise on his grandfather’s upper back, but also something else… Paw was changing. He was transforming in ways that he knew were natural, given his age, but Paw had seemed like a supernatural being to him when he was a kid. Powerful, resilient… a hero. His hero. The change didn’t happen overnight, but at times it sure felt like it. The man felt so much different from years ago, his body belonging to someone else, and his mind, too. Now, here he was, feeble, frail, and slow, when he used to be solid and strong. He used to smell of cologne, rich spices, and pipe smoke; now he reeked of Bengay and discount shaving cream. Long ago, he’d tell him colorful stories from his childhood growing up along the Mohawk River, read the paper to him at breakfast time, and take him on long walks in the summer afternoons.
He taught him a bit of Oneida and French, educated him about his heritage as an Iroquois. Much of those traditions had been lost. But Paw made sure he knew who he was, and where he came from. He’d taught him how to swim, ride a bike, how to read, add and subtract, study, work, and most of all, how to dream and how to love.
Zen peered at the man as the memories washed over him and ran his hand gently over his grandfather’s head. The soft strands of silver hair glimmered under the recessed, sterile lights. The light tan flesh, creased from time and hard work, didn’t hide his beauty. The old man’s light carob eyes fluttered as he pushed his hand under his head, causing his pillow to move about before he’d settled.
“I love
The old man’s lips drooped as his mood turned sullen, but he remained quiet, folded within himself like the wrinkles on his face.
“I’m not getting any help from the rest of the family. Everyone is too busy to help, or so they say. They barely even give anything financially, yet expect me to do everything. When was the last time Uncle Len, your friend Kasey, or any of them visited you? This is ridiculous! Every time you call, I run to you, and it’s gettin’ crazy. Now you’re calling me about Lysol in some beans! NO ONE PUT LYSOL IN YOUR BEANS, PAW! No one is tryna kill you!” A surge of anger roared through him. He had to break through, make the man see. “No one is trying to toss you around like a ball, either. Knowin’ you, you were putting up a fight and things got out of hand. These people are trying to help you, not hurt you, but you’re making it hard for all of us.”
The old man visibly swallowed, but he’d pushed Zenith beyond the point of return.
“I take you out to eat. I come visit regularly. I send you things, because I love you, okay? Because you raised me, and you deserve respect. You say I don’t respect you, but Paw, you know I do. You’ve taught me how to be a man, and that’s what I’m upholding, by doing right by you, but I’m just one person. I’m doing the best I can.”
He wouldn’t dare admit it to the man, for it would only be used against him, but he hated that he had to put Paw in a home. The remorse at times was unbearable, but what could he do? The man had begun to display some rather odd behavior, and after a heart attack, a physical altercation with a neighbor, the theft of thirty-two pairs of tube socks from Target in size 5-7 boys, and him driving on the wrong side of the road with a suspended license then arguing with the police—well, it was time for an intervention.
“Zen, I know you’re doing the best you can, son… I know.” The old man lay on his side and pulled the sheets up around him, real slow and tired like. Zenith stepped closer and nestled a quilt Mawmaw had made around the old man’s body. The fabric in colors of cantaloupe and crocodile green were soft, but worn, warm and comforting.
…I miss Mawmaw so much…
As he pulled the thing up a bit further around the man’s body, he noticed another purplish bruise on his grandfather’s upper back, but also something else… Paw was changing. He was transforming in ways that he knew were natural, given his age, but Paw had seemed like a supernatural being to him when he was a kid. Powerful, resilient… a hero. His hero. The change didn’t happen overnight, but at times it sure felt like it. The man felt so much different from years ago, his body belonging to someone else, and his mind, too. Now, here he was, feeble, frail, and slow, when he used to be solid and strong. He used to smell of cologne, rich spices, and pipe smoke; now he reeked of Bengay and discount shaving cream. Long ago, he’d tell him colorful stories from his childhood growing up along the Mohawk River, read the paper to him at breakfast time, and take him on long walks in the summer afternoons.
He taught him a bit of Oneida and French, educated him about his heritage as an Iroquois. Much of those traditions had been lost. But Paw made sure he knew who he was, and where he came from. He’d taught him how to swim, ride a bike, how to read, add and subtract, study, work, and most of all, how to dream and how to love.
Zen peered at the man as the memories washed over him and ran his hand gently over his grandfather’s head. The soft strands of silver hair glimmered under the recessed, sterile lights. The light tan flesh, creased from time and hard work, didn’t hide his beauty. The old man’s light carob eyes fluttered as he pushed his hand under his head, causing his pillow to move about before he’d settled.
“I love
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