Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
Canon opened the door to the duplex. “Grammie, we’re here.”
“Come on in the kitchen,” Grammie said. “I’m fixin’ dinner.”
Barefoot and in her pajamas, Albie followed him into the living room. Felix, Grammie’s black cat, peered up from the oval braided rug on the floor. Not impressed with the guests, Felix rolled over.
The familiar scent of Grammie’s home washed nostalgia over Canon, and he sighed. He had so many wonderful memories from the living room alone. On the floral print sofa, he’d heard many stories and shed just as many tears.
The white mantel held pottery knickknacks he’d made in elementary school. He couldn’t recall what the colorful blobs were or when he’d made them, but Grammie knew and had a story for each.
“Mm, that smells good,” Albie said. She hadn’t moved from the doorway.
Canon returned to her and offered his hand. She tentatively took it, smiling at him.
“My Grammie is the best cook,” he boasted, happy to put the statement to the test.
Canon moved slowly to accommodate Albie’s shuffle, following the humming. He made it to the doorway of the kitchen and paused when he heard Albie’s soft gasp. Her breath fanned the back of his arm and tickled. He chuckled at her expression—the wide-eyes and open mouth.
Grammie was an American of African descent, and Canon may have forgotten to mention it. That kind of detail didn’t matter, or rather, he didn’t see it anymore. People either were or they weren’t. They were kind, or they weren’t. They were generous, or they weren’t.
Grammie was five-feet if she had her heels on and a hundred pounds dripping wet. Canon liked to lift her when he hugged her. She’d squeal, offering some ailment as an excuse. “You’re going to hurt your back,” she’d say. If he didn’t promptly return her to her feet, she playfully whacked him on the top of his head with whatever she had in her hand, like a spatula or newspaper.
Today she was rolling dough. He wouldn’t grab her until she was far away from the rolling pin.
Without looking toward them, Grammie said, “Canon, what did I say about lurking?” She turned on the water and washed her hands.
He stepped into the room. “No lurking in the doorways. Come in or get out.”
“Yes sir,” she glanced up with a huge grin. “I’m glad you chose to come in.” She trained her gaze on Albie. “Welcome, sweetheart.” She opened her arms.
“Thank you.” Albie glanced at Canon, who nodded. She stepped forward and into Grammie’s arms.
Grammie held her, talking softly. Canon couldn’t make out the words, but Albie nodded.
Grammie released Albie and stepped back to the dough. “Now kids, let me get these biscuits in the oven, then we can visit your new temporary home.” She used a circular cookie cutter, setting the doughy circles on a cookie sheet. Once the pan was in the oven, she washed her hands again. “Canon, put eight minutes on your timer.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen.
“All righty, let’s go. Follow me.” She pulled open the back door and made an abrupt right turn and pushed the latch of another door. “This unit is the same as mine, but reversed.”
“Like our apartments.” Albie glanced at Canon, who nodded.
The kitchen was clean, but it felt sterile, with none of the personal touches of a home. It had been updated since his childhood, with Canon making a majority of the cosmetic changes.
Since his book club friend B.J. Johnson worked as a property manager, he had connections for any kind of contractor Canon needed. The flooring man had been recommended by B.J. Canon had worked alongside the floor installer, learning many things.
“I love the floors,” Albie declared.
The wood floors had turned out great, and Canon smiled.
“My baby put those in,” Grammie Nan proudly stated. “He’s handy with tools.”
They continued to the living space, which was empty. The walls had been painted pale taupe. A small telephone niche hinted at the age of the building.
The stairwell had an open banister, and the wood steps had white runners. The stairs creaked as they traveled toward the second floor. At the landing, the alarm rang.
“I’ve got it,” Canon said as he turned and headed back downstairs two steps at a time.
Just before he left the apartment, he heard Grammie Nan say, “He’s such a good boy and handsome, too. Don't you think?” Canon smiled and saved the biscuits from burning even though his ears were on fire.
He rejoined the women in the larger bedroom. Grammie held sheets in her hand as an air mattress inflated. A thick moss green blanket awaited on a folding metal chair.
As they made the bed, Canon yawned.
“Ah, my poor boy. You are plum tuckered. Let’s get some warm food in you, then you can take a shower and nap.”
“He’s been up all night.” Albie said, putting her hands on her hips. “He wouldn’t leave me by myself.”
“It wasn’t the entire night. Just after the fire,” Canon yawned again.
“Like you slept well before the fire. That party was loud.”
Grammie led the way to her kitchen. She fixed them plates, and they sat at the small round table overlooking the backyard.
Albie hummed with each bite. She knew how to make Grammie Nan happy. The older woman loved feeding people.
Grammie used to instruct him with little words of wisdom while they ate. She usually chose mealtime because Canon had his mouth full and couldn’t reply. He could hear Grammie now. “Food draws people closer. They then agree on what makes them happy. And togetherness is good for the soul. Soul food.”
Canon filled his plate twice and tried not to nod off. He covered his mouth and yawned again.
It was nice to be somewhere safe.
Albie’s laughter met his ears. He glanced at her. Her dainty hand covered her mouth and nose. Laugh lines edged her eyes. She was staring at him.
He scratched his chest. “What happened?”
“Honey, you fell asleep.” Grammie’s eyes crinkled too, but she frowned. Concerned, she said, “Up. You need to shower, then off to bed with you.”
Canon glanced at the wall clock. “I have a few hours, and then I have to work.”
Grammie’s eyelids flew open. “No way. You are too tired. Not one of those twenty-four-hour shifts.”
“Not this time. Just twelve hours.”
Albie gasped.
“I’ll be fine. Then I need to go to the apartment and make sure the fire is out.” He turned to Albie. “We can see if anything is salvageable.”
She nodded and bit her lip. “Mine won’t be, but it was all secondhand furniture and clothes are replaceable. Thank God you saved my purse.”
Canon stood, scooting his chair back. He picked up his empty plate.
“Leave it be,” Grammie ordered.
Albie stood too, and she grabbed him around the waist and hugged him tight. Canon placed a kiss on the top of her head, and she let him go to the other duplex.
Once next door, Canon stumbled up the stairs into the full bath. Twisting on the water, he set the temperature, then disrobed. He hadn’t checked to see if there was soap before getting in and was pleased to find a trial size bar and shampoo bottles. The water turned gray as the soot washed down the drain.
Steam filled the bathroom as he reached for the towel hung on the bar. He wiped the mirror, examining the bags under his red eyes. Dang, he needed sleep. In the smaller bedroom, he dropped his dirty clothes in a pile, then with the towel wrapped around his waist, he collapsed onto the air mattress.