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“You mind your brother, Braxton.” Mama kisses my baby brother on his cheek before putting him in his playpen.
“There’s a sandwich for you in the fridge. And some formula for Nixon too.” She crouches down in front of me as she roughs up my hair and smiles. Mama’s got a real pretty smile. She doesn't show it all that often but when she does, it always makes me happy.
She’s wearing that perfume again tonight, the one that always sticks to the back of my throat and makes me choke. Her hair’s curled loose, flowing down her back. And her lips are painted the same color as the neon sign that lights up the club where she works, opposite our apartment.
“Remember, don’t be answering the door to no one. Not even Grammy,” she reminds me. Last time Grammy visited, her and Mama had a fight. She hasn’t been back here since, which is a shame because when Grammy calls, she always brings food.
A loud knock at the door pulls Mama away from me.
“That’ll probably be her now, poking her nose into places it ain’t wanted,” she mutters under her breath, before smiling at me over her shoulder on her way to the door. This time it’s a different kind of smile, more like the one she gives me when we’re counting coins together, or the one she makes when she brings one of her ‘friends’ home from the club. I far prefer her happy smile.
Still, I return a smile back at her before I get back to watching cartoons.
“Oh, it’s you.” Mama sounds nervous as she peeps through the crack of the door and sees who's on the other side of it, I hear Mama yelp in fear when it’s forced open wider.
“Anything you wanna tell me, Jen?” a deep voice growls at her, and I don’t have to move my eyes from the TV screen to know who it belongs to.
It’s a voice that always makes my skin shiver.
“It’s no big deal, baby, he stopped by the club last night but soon as I told him I was working for you now, he left.” Her words come out weak and shaky.
When I look from the corner of my eye, I see one of his huge fists impact with her cheek and I’m immediately up and on my feet. The man may be triple my size, but I ain’t about to sit down and watch him hurt my Mama.
“Sit back down, boy,” he bellows over at me, and Mama quickly steps in my path before I can get to him.
“Go take care of your brother, Braxton.” She places a quivering hand on my shoulder and pulls a brave smile onto her lips. “Please.” Her eyes beg me to do as I’m told, and I stare back at her, trying real hard to understand.
My mama takes shit from no one. I’ve seen her stand up for herself plenty of times with Grammy, and watched her fight back at other men who have disrespected her.
Why does this guy have her so scared?
She quickly turns back around, taking his hand in hers and looking up at him.
“Come with me, baby,” she whispers, her body pressing against his. It makes me so mad that she’s being kind to him, so mad I want to make him hurt.
“Let me prove my loyalty to you. Show you how much I appreciate everything you do for me.” There’s fear in her whisper, and I watch her body sag with relief when he eventually nods his head and lets her guide him toward the bedroom.
Mama turns her head back to me and gives a nod of reassurance. So I swallow back all the rage inside me and do what I always do when she takes a visitor to her bedroom…
I turn up the volume on the TV and do my best to blank out the sounds. I think about last summer, when Mama took me to the fair, Nixon hadn’t arrived back then, but I’ve promised him I’m gonna take him there when he’s big enough.
I don’t know how long Mama and the man have been in the room together, but it gets harder and harder to block out her noises. She sounds like she’s in pain, and it makes me feel sick when her long agonized scream turns into a muffled silence.
I glance at the playpen where Nixon’s sleeping, his fingers tightly gripping the ear of the old blue bunny I gave him.
I’m a big boy now, I don’t need cuddle bunnies anymore.
Big brothers are important. Grammy told me that when Mama brought Nixon home from the hospital. Mama works hard, she’s always so tired, and it’s my job to make sure he’s taken care of so she can rest when she needs to.
Curiosity gets the better of me, so I get up from my chair and slowly creep toward Mama’s room. I know what the rules are, and breaking them will probably earn me a pelt from the nasty man. But I don’t care about him hurting me. I don’t like the sudden silence. I need to check she’s okay.
I turn the corner and collide with his chest, and as I slowly raise my eyes up to his, I notice how he’s peering down at me. His pupils cold and empty, a thick vein pulsing in his temple.
“Outta my way, boy,” he growls.
“Where’s my mama?” I hate how scared I sound. I’m supposed to be looking out for Mama. I promised Pa I would the day he left us.
I find the strength to stare right back up at the man who towers over me, denying him my fear. And even when his huge hand wraps around my throat and starts to crush the breath out of me, I somehow manage to hold in a reaction.
