Red White and Black

Chapter Thirty

Markus

Sadie folded her arms across her chest and tapped her toe, impatience registering on her face.

"Markus! You best light a fire, this ain't gonna go away just 'cause you dawdling."

She scowled as he shuffled into the kitchen with an untucked shirt, a necktie that looked like a four year old had tied it, and shoes in dire need of polishing.

"You look a wreck. What do you think Brother Gibbs is gonna think you showin' up lookin' like you just fell outta bed? Now get that shirt tucked in and then let's work on that tie."

"Aunt Sadie. Stop." He pushed her hands away as she fussed over him like a dog worrying over a bone. "Why are we doin' this? I mean, there's about half a million things I'd rather be doin' than spending time down at church. I like Brother Gibbs and all, but this is such a waste of time."

"Waste of time?" She planted her feet and stood with one hand on her hip and the other waggling a finger under his nose. "Let me tell you about a waste of time. I spent the last four months livin' a life of misery because of all the grief and heartache that happened. That's four months of my life I coulda been doin' something else productive."

Markus didn't like it and didn't agree, but Brother Gibbs asked for this meeting and he knew she was gonna make sure that he hopped to it.

"Fine," he conceded. "I'm goin'. But you ain't the only one who has been feeling down lately. I been through the wringer too, you know."

Sadie nodded. She cupped his handsome young face in her hands and looked up at him with tears threatening tp spill out at the corners of her eyes. "I know, I know. We all been through it and I thank the dear Lord every single day that I still got you with me after all that mess. I thank him that you come away from havin' a big old tree land on you with nothin' worse than a broken arm. I thank him every day it wasn't you we lost that night. I thank him for sparin' me of that pain."

Markus patted her hand. "Aunt Sadie, you ain't gonna do anybody any good at all if you start blubberin' like a baby."

Jerked back to the present, Sadie couldn't help herself from adding, "And I keep on prayin' that God will teach you some respect and snatch that sassy tongue right outta your mouth."

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It was cold outside as Markus brushed the snow from the car, so cold his fingers felt numb through the gloves. It didn't take but a few minutes before his nose felt frozen like one of the giant icicles hanging from the eaves that would snap off if it were bumped. The heat of summer seemed so distant and foreign, like something he had read about in a book or had seen on the television. He thought about summer for a moment, staring at the leaden sky through the vapors of his breath rising in the air. Summers would never be the same again, forever they would be the season tainted by tragedy.

First, there had been the funeral of Jay C. His momma sobered up enough to attend but she was a wreck. She looked like she couldn't wait to get back home and crawl into a bottle and never crawl out. It didn't seem real that Jay C was in that box. It didn't seem real when they lowered it into the ground. But it sure seemed real when he realized he would never see his friend again.

After that, he couldn't bring himself to go to Derrick's funeral. Aunt Sadie had cajoled, then threatened, then begged, but he refused to budge. It all just hurt too much.

And then there was Abbie. Her mother had driven all the way from Ohio and had Sadie's body hauled back to be buried in a cemetery located in a little tiny town near Toledo, a place barely big enough to merit mention in the Rand-McNally atlas. There had been quite a commotion when Abbie's mother rode into town. She castigated the police, the mayor, and every person in the entire neighborhood, but she saved the worst of her wrath for Mr. Morris. He suffered a withering attack of anger and acrimony, powerful enough it could have turned a lump of coal into a diamond. Her voice could be heard resounding throughout the whole neighborhood and not a single word of her diatribe was pleasant.