Chapter 24
TWENTY-FOUR
LYNETTE
Alice. Anne. Ada. Agatha. Abbie. Addie. Emma. Etta. Eva. Essie. Ellie.
I followed Granny’s clues, using each in my ancestor search, hoping to find something. So far, I was defeated. The vowels were winning.
What about Ella?
“Mom! I got an A+.” Justus flew into my classroom before I could act on the thought. He dropped his backpack on my desk and pulled his essay from his binder, proudly displaying his grade. “And the mannequin got me extra credit.”
With Granny’s permission, he’d taken her costumed mannequin to school for his Black Women’s History Month essay presentation. Clearly, it was a success.
“Yesss, son, you’re the business!”
“Mr. Daniels said the costume was a great representation. I did like you asked and didn’t say Granny sewed it because we’re connected to Grandma Zinnie since we can’t prove it yet.”
“Nope, no clout dropping without proof. I’m proud of you, Mr. A+.”
“I’m proud of you for taking care of your health.”
“Oh, Lord! Let’s go before the lab closes.” I had to have blood drawn prior to next week’s hematology appointment.
“Can we get ice cream from Fisher’s afterwards to celebrate my grade?”
“Sure, if you’re paying.”
“I don’t have a job, Mom.”
“That sounds like a busted people problem.” I grabbed my tote and locked my desk. “Let’s go, my broke best friend.”
The phlebotomist gave me a box of apple juice, dubbing me a “brave and beautiful baddie.” He was handsome but old enough to be my father. I ignored his flirting and had a naughty thought to hook him up with Mama.
She’d probably scare him off asking about his spirituality and how well he knows Jesus.
“Mom, that apple juice made my stomach hurt. I gotta use the restroom.”
I’d given Justus the juice from the phlebotomist, as well as asked if he’d needed to use the facilities before leaving. Of course, he didn’t. Now, he did. “There’s a gas station ahead. We’ll stop there.”
“How far is it?”
“A mile or so. Why?”
“I don’t think I can hold it. I really gotta go.”
Mild distress decorated his face when I glanced in the rearview mirror. “I got you, kid. Soon as we get from behind this person driving slower than Granny.” I signaled a lane change and sped away. Or I would have if a loud popping sound didn’t send us sideways. “What the…?”
“I bet we have a flat!”
The sideview mirror proved him correct. My right rear tire was kaput. I pulled to the side of the road, thankful my father had taught me how to change tires and that I had a spare.
“How long’s it gonna take? If it’s more than four minutes, I’m not gonna make it.”
I chose not to remind my son he’d declined to use the restroom at the clinic.
“Put your backpack beneath the seat.” I grabbed my wallet from inside the arm console, where I kept it during the workday after a colleague’s wallet was stolen from her desk last year. My tote was already in the cargo area.
“What’re we doing?”
“We’ll use my roadside assistance app to get a tow truck out to change the flat.” Just because I knew how to didn’t mean I had to. I was learning to lean. “In the meantime, you need to use the restroom so we’re getting Grandma Zinnie with it and walking to the gas station.”
We were closer than estimated and made it without incident. It was warm for spring and getting a Lyft crossed my mind on the way back. Instead, I reminded myself a half mile in seventy-nine degrees wouldn’t kill me when my ancestors walked across the country.
“Do you think our missing ancestor walked all the way from Mississippi with Grandma Zinnie?” Justus asked as if renting space in my brain.
“I don’t know. Hopefully we’ll find out once we know who she is.”
“When I did research for my essay, one book said Grandma Zinnie walked over two thousand miles from Mississippi to Utah to California. That’s wild! What if she had to carry stuff? Or somebody?”
“Somebody? Really?”
“Yeah! Like her kids or something? Would you carry me if you had to?”
“I did. I have the stretchmarks to prove it.”
“Not like that, Mom. I mean in your arms or on your back.”
“I did that, too. But come on.” I squatted down. “Hop on.” When he did, I couldn’t even straighten up. “Dang, boy, who’s feeding you bricks?”
He laughed and hopped off. “Hey, the tow truck’s here!” He sprinted ahead.
I quickened my pace and was slightly out of breath when I reached them.
“It’s your lucky day, ma’am. I was a mile away finishing up another job when I got this call. You have a spare, right?”
“Yes, sir.” I depressed my key fob, moved to the rear of my SUV, opened the liftgate, and screamed.
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
My tote had fallen over, exposing a fuzzy creature within. “Chester!”
“Hey, bud.” Justus didn’t share my shock at my class mascot being in my possession. He happily lifted him. “How’d you get in there?”
“He’s an escape artist! I swear we’re not doing Littlest Pet Shop next year.”
“No swearing, Mom. Can he stay with us tonight?”
“No and not. He’s going back to campus. I’m putting a padlock on his cage and awarding him to whoever gets the highest score on our next math test.”
The tow truck driver laughed. “He’s cute. How ‘bout y’all ease on over while I put on your spare.”
We relocated as requested. I tried not to shiver as Justus held my class creature.
“Mom, when’ll you get your lab results?”
“In a week or so. Are you worried?”
“I was, but I’m gonna do like you said and trust God. Any luck on the vowel names?”
I cited what I’d searched after school.
“What about Ella, Mom? That starts with E and ends with A.”
“Sir, are you part genius?”
“My dad is.”
“Good for him.” I explained that the name had crossed my mind when he entered my classroom, but that I hadn’t gotten to it yet.
“We can do it together. I asked Dad if you can come live with us. He said yes if you’ve cured your snoring problem. I told him you hadn’t, but it’s still okay.”
I smiled and watched my child holding that hamster. I prayed he’d never outgrow his innocence but knowing he would, I hoped that that growing would be here in Texas. Not LA.