GRIND (The Silver Nitrate Series Book 1) (9 page)

Zenith rolled his eyes. “You always say that, and from what I’ve seen, they put up with a lot from you and have been pretty nice.”

“Put up with a lot from me?” The man’s salt and pepper brows furrowed as he pointed a finger at himself. “It’s my money payin’ their way!”

“That doesn’t mean you can treat people any way you wish. You still have to give respect, Paw.”

“Who are you to tell me about respect?” The old man reared back like the Heavyweight Champion of the World. “I’m the one that taught
you
respect! I know all about respect. Aretha Franklin learned how to spell it from
ME
! R.E.S.P.E.C.T., find out what tha hell it means to me!”

Zenith burst out laughing and looked down into his lap.

“She has some huge jugs now… She hasn’t aged well, but I’d still take ’er on account of those massive breasts. Have you seen them? They remind me of two sandbags. I’d love to get my hands on ’em.”

“Paw,” Zenith’s laughter now echoed throughout the room. “Please stop it.”

“Laugh if you want to, but you do have a lot of nerve talking to me about respect. Who raised you?”

“You and Mawmaw…” Zenith raised his chin a bit higher and looked the man directly in the eye.

“Ya damn right, Zen! Tellin’ me about respect…” the man muttered indignantly as he snatched his robe closed again. “That raccoon-faced woman came in here and tossed me around like a ball!”

“Speaking of balls… I can still see yours.”

The old man looked down and brought his thighs closer together.

“…And they’ve been stealing from me, too.”

“Your balls have been stealing from you?”

“You smart-alecky punk. You know what I’m talking about. These hens have been stealin’ my money.”

“You don’t
have
anything! What do they want, huh? Your impeccable lint ball collection from your five sweaters dating back to 1973, right? It’s the finest clothing collection in the world. Oh, I know!” He snapped his fingers. “Your Depends diapers! The ones you keep taking off and stuffing in the john, making it overflow. Yeah, that’s it, isn’t it?”

“The new nurse is a hunchback! Have you seen ’er?! I complained, but no one did a damn thing. They ignored me and I
know
she sprayed cleaning stuff in my beans! I been pukin’ and shittin’ ever since!”

Zenith looked over at the man’s lunch tray, on which stood an empty, clear plastic cup and a burgundy ceramic bowl of something that was long gone. Alongside these was a half eaten sandwich and a small dish of green grapes.

“Paw, they don’t want you dead. What sense would that make? They make money off of you bein’ alive, not deceased.”

“I don’t care what you say, with all your disregard and jokes. I may not be able to see as well as I used to, and my hearing is goin’, too, but I know what Lysol tastes like!”

“And how would you know what Lysol tastes like, Paw? What in the world would happen to cause you to know what somethin’ like that tastes like? Was there a cleaning product taste-testing contest you attended that I was unaware of? When it comes to you, Paw, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“I just do! Get me outta here… You better get me outta here, Zen. I can come live with you. I’ll keep quiet, I promise.” The man looked about the room, wild eyed, as if surrounded by ghosts.

“Bull! The last time I had you spend a weekend with me, my house was practically boiling you’d turned the heat up so high. I’m surprised the fire department didn’t come out and not to mention, the electric bill alone almost caused me to get a third job to pay it off. And then you went and put toilet paper around all the windows, talking about they were window treatments you’d purchased from the drapery store.”

“I did not!” the man scoffed, turning away, for he knew darn well it was true.

“Oh yes you did!” Zenith got to his feet. “I don’t like that you have to be in here, Paw, but your mind isn’t the same. You do things sometimes that aren’t right, and sometimes they’re even dangerous. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He rubbed his shoulder to release some tension there. “Not only that, you got a bad heart. I can’t watch you 24-7; I work. I don’t have the money to hire someone to watch you. This way was cheaper in the long run because the state covers a portion of it. Len could watch you, but you don’t trust him.”

“If your father was still alive, he’d take care of me, no matter what.” The old man laid on a thick layer of manipulation, the gluey guilt had been worked like a mix of beaten eggs, fine sugar, and white flour—and he undoubtedly hoped the concoction would bake to unscrupulous perfection.

“But he’s not,” Zenith stated, his heart beating a bit faster. “He’s dead. My father is dead. Gone.”

“I… I know.” Paw dropped his head and ran his long fingers over his knobby knee. “You know, your father was—”

“I really didn’t come here for this. I don’t want to talk about it,” Zenith angrily interrupted. “Let’s not talk about my father or my mother, okay? Both are in the ground and you know how I feel about this. Now look, Paw, I know you’re unhappy here. You’re used to being independent and taking care of everyone else. You were the leader of the family, and you still are. Here’s the problem, though. You’ve only been in here eight months but you’ve been causing all sorts of problems. If I have to keep 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 you, Paw…” He kissed him on the cheek.

The old man gave a slight nod before falling into an even rest, disappearing from the conversation altogether. Zen backed away slowly, then turned to leave. On his way out to the car, he slipped his phone out of his pocket.

“Yo, Elijah, what’s up, man? Glad you answered. Look, I know you’re at work right now, and that’s perfect, actually. It’s what I need to talk to you about… I need something and I believe you can help. Let me tell you what’s going on…”

E
very Sunday morning,
Silver called her mother. If she missed this self-imposed ritual, she felt somewhat unsettled, as if a vital task hadn’t been fulfilled. She was a Brooklyn girl, and that’s where the family was, but once Take-Two Interactive Technologies had hired her several years earlier, she made the move to Syracuse and had been there ever since. She tried to get to Brooklyn at least twice a month to see the family, and since Mama didn’t have a car, she didn’t expect her to make the long, four-hour commute. She’d do the honors.

Both of her younger sisters were away at college. Ruby was attending North Carolina A&T State University, finishing her bachelor’s degree, while Topaz was studying abroad in London, obtaining her second PhD. Silver was the middle child, with double sibling bookends… two sisters below her, and two older brothers before her. Unlike her and her sisters, her brothers had not been given such names reminiscent of gems and precious metals.

As a child she despised her name; it led to incessant taunting, but now, she rather enjoyed it. When she’d asked her mother as a little girl why she’d named her that, her mother had simply replied, “Beautiful girls deserve beautiful names.” Apparently, Mama didn’t think her sons were beautiful, or perhaps, there was some gender bias. Either way, it didn’t concern her enough to inquire. Her eldest brother, Bryce, was named after their father.

Bryce was barely around, and his comings and goings were typically unknown. He worked hard as an athletic recruiter, was well known and well liked. She loved Bryce to death, but his career goals kept him away from the family too many times to count.