Where Do You Stay

Where Do You Stay by Andrea Cheng Page B

Book: Where Do You Stay by Andrea Cheng Read Free Book Online
Authors: Andrea Cheng
someplace that didn’t have storms. They make me feel alive , she said, like I’m a part of the world. But even when things aren’t alive, they’re still a part of the world, like fossils and arrowheads and bones and dried worms.
    “It could be a tornado,” Monte says.
    “It’s not that windy.”
    Then the rain starts.
    Me and Monte look at the library books. I show him the picture of Rosa Parks and tell him the story about the bus and how Ms. Parks didn’t give up her seat.
    “I bet she was scared,” he says.
    We look at her face. “She doesn’t look like she is,” I say.
    “But sometimes you can be scared and not look scared.” He turns the page and looks hard at the picture of Ms. Parks getting fingerprinted. “That policeman was wrong,” he says.
    “The whole country was wrong,” I say. I tell him allabout separate but equal and Martin Luther King and the bus boycott.
    “How do you know everything, Jerome?”
    “Not everything,” I say. “But my mother told me all about history because if you don’t know where you came from, you don’t know who you are.”
    The thunder is loud, coming quick after the lightning. Monte is holding on to me for dear life.
    “You want another piano lesson?” I ask.
    Monte nods.
    “Okay. How about we try a real song this time. It’s called ‘Little Pony.’” I put my fingers on the paper keys and sing the tune as I play. Soon me and Monte are playing away on our paper keyboard and singing at the top of our lungs.

29
    Aunt Geneva has a big envelope in her hands. “Mail came early,” she says, coming up the stairs. “And we got something from the lawyer.”
    Maybe Daddy decided he wants me back after all. You never know. Aunt Geneva sits on the edge of my bed, slits the side of the envelope, unfolds the letter on top and reads it out loud.
    Mr. William Mason did not respond to this summons concerning his son, Jerome William Mason. He has therefore voluntarily relinquished his rights as father and the case is considered closed.
    The case is closed. The coffin was closed. No nails or anything, just the lid was down.
    “What’s that mean?” Monte asks.
    Aunt Geneva has tears running down her cheeks. “I know Sy is happy,” she says, putting her arm around me.
    How does Aunt Geneva know if Mama is happy or unhappy? Mama is part of the dirt now, so she can’t feel anything. Aunt Geneva’s arm is heavy on my shoulders, pushing me down into the mattress with the polka-dottedsheets. Concentrate on your breathing, Jerome. That’s right, in and out.
    Monte takes the envelope and reads the letter himself, whispering the words. “It doesn’t say anything about adopting anyone,” he says.
    “It’s a process,” Aunt Geneva says.
    I scoot away from Aunt Geneva and look out the window. Everything is clean after the storm. There are branches all over the ground, and the Jacksons’ tree split right in half. The wind must have been stronger than we thought.
    “Jerome wants his name to stay the same,” Monte says. “And he wants a piano because you sold his.”
    Aunt Geneva’s voice is so soft I can hardly hear it. “I know about the name, Monte.” She takes a deep breath. “When Sylvia passed, I called a moving company for an estimate to move that piano to our house.” She stands behind me, looking out over my head. “Two hundred fifty dollars.” Aunt Geneva steps toward the door. “That’s more money than I earn in a month.” She clears her throat like she wants to say something else, then takes the papers and goes down the stairs.
    Monte is standing next to me, so I can see the goose bumps on his skinny arms. Then he starts shivering like it’s the middle of winter.
    “Let’s see if Mr. Willie is back yet,” I say, reaching for my T-shirt.
    •
    I knock on the door of the carriage house.
    “He’s still not home,” Monte says.
    I push the door open and look around. The shirt is gone. The blanket is not on the mattress. Beethoven is not on

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