The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Chapter 12

"What on earth is all that noise, child?" Lynnette's mother shouted over the phone.

Rolling her eyes at both her mom and the passing trucks beside her as she stood at the phone booth on the sidewalk, Lynnette said aloud, "It's traffic, mama! I had to use the phone outside this time!"

Lynnette had to keep a close eye on not only her watch but also the passing traffic that would at times splash water and mud up and onto the sidewalk where she was standing. She made sure to keep both her multi-colored apron and shoes as far away from the curb as possible.

"How is dad doing?" Lynnette glanced all around at the various people walking past her up and down along the street and sidewalks.

Sighing, her mother said, "He actually started back to work just last week."

"Really," Lynnette perked right up. "I bet you're happy about that; not having to work anymore."

"Oh no, I'm still gonna keep my job." Her mother quickly spoke up. "We need as much money as we can get our hands on. I'm just glad that your father is able to work again. Hopefully his time off won't affect his pension."

"I'll be sending another check next Friday." Lynnette said. "I got shorted this week because...because the restaurant had a leak, and we had to cut our hours."

"Don't worry too much about your money. You need it more for your recovery."

Lynnette bit down on her bottom lip right then, just as she did almost every time they talked over the phone.

"Isaac's father called here the other day." Wilma bitterly muttered.

"Oh yeah," Lynnette asked with a hint of wonder in her tone. "How is he doing?"

"He wanted to see the baby. I told him that that wouldn't be a good idea."

Exhaling, Lynnette replied, "Mama, let Mr. Mercer see Isaiah. He hasn't done anything wrong to anyone. That's his grandson, too."

Wilma breathed in and out before moaning, "I guess so. But do you think it's safe to let him be alone with Isaiah?"

Hopelessly grinning, Lynnette said, "Mama, that man wouldn't hurt a fly. Believe me, I should know. Listen, I have to get going. Let me talk to Isaiah real quick, please."

Lynnette waited until she could hear the boy playfully screaming for his 'mommy.' All the young woman could do was hold her breath and try not to burst out into tears.

"Hi, mommy," Isaiah blurted out.

"Hi...hi, baby." She braced herself. "Have you been a good boy?"

"Yeah," he shouted. "I go see Harem Grobtotters' with papaw!"

"You saw The Harlem Globetrotters?" She laughed. "Did you like them?"

"Yes! They play basketball!"

Unable to contain her joy, Lynnette said, "I know they do, baby."

"Okay, I got go now!"

"Okay, honey. I love you."

"Love you!"

Lynnette couldn't contain herself any longer. Her face immediately exploded into tears right there on the sidewalk in front of everyone to see.

"I swear that child has such a loud voice." Wilma came back to the phone. "He's gonna grow up to be a singer, I can guarantee that."

Wiping her face, Lynnette cleared her throat. "Is...is he still having nightmares about dogs?"

"Off and on," Wilma's voice faltered. "I let him sleep with me and your dad sometimes."

I could be there with him." Lynnette

"He'll be just fine, girl. You just take care of your

more minutes." The recording over the

I'm almost out

to work, Lynn, and

"Okay, I love you, mama. And tell daddy I love

"We love you too,

up the phone quick enough. After so long, the irate noise of the traffic became all but soundless. All she had to do was hear her child and everyone and everything around her became like fog. The young lady continued to wipe

that she didn't want to race to

tolerate were beginning to wear thin upon her as well. From the food, the noise, the rain and

to the place until her feet that were pedaling so fast at one point started to feel like sludge. She got off the bike and lanced it to a wooden fence before

Lynnette only wrapped her scarf around her already sweating head and inhaled the curry aroma that suffocated the

"Ya keep getting later and later, girl!" Clea announced as she came flying

turnstile and studied its writing. Clea stood next to Lynnette and said nothing. Lynnette could feel a

"Ya look like you've been cryin', girl." Clea whispered

Jumping back, Lynnette said, "Oh...I was just thinking

gets dat way after talking to her son!" Another one of the

could take even one step, Clea took her by the hand and said, "Don't ya let Mr. Hunta or dose Yankee boys we be servin' all

to the backdoor and examined herself. Within the mirror she saw a face flush with both tears and sorrow. She promptly wiped it all away before turning, brushing right past Clea and bolting out into the busy dining area. Her once distressed face had within the span of three seconds blossomed into a blissful bouquet of a smile and dreamy eyes that

"Hello, my name is Lynnette, and I'll be taking your order today." She

you're actually an American!" The balding man

Taken aback, Lynnette replied, "Yep,

we've been here." The lady appeared

"Oh really," Lynnette began to relax a

now for the past two days,

actually a few

you from? If you don't mind

"I'm from

"Are you serious?" They both lit up. "We're from

smile, Lynnette

"What city are you from?"

"Cypress."

his wife's hand. "It's amazing that this town was started just a few years ago. " He marveled. "And by

waitress, but Lynnette couldn't seem to help herself. Just hearing another voice that didn't sound like an islander's caused her once tumbling stomach to gradually settle. It didn't make a difference what color they were, they reminded her of home, and that alone made the young woman only laugh all the harder at their over-exuberant behavior. Once she had taken their orders Lynnette ran the

"Hello, sir. Welcome to The Kabal. Can I take your order?" She

in a sandy-colored blazer, matching slacks

spoke in a more dignified vernacular. "It's good

"What can I get for you today,

at Lynnette before saying, "I must say that I've been to this place quite a few times, but

here for a little while, and then I'm

Glaring with kindness, Livingston replied, "I see. I see. Well, what do you

to be a wee-bit sloggered, everyone!" Silas came stumbling out of nowhere with a shot glass full of bourbon and a loud, jovial mouth for everyone in the restaurant

the drunken man while Livingston appeared on

"You'll have to forgive him." Lynnette

bit garish for my taste," Livingston grumbled

"Well, the sweet potato hash is really good,

intriguing glare staring right at her. It was an alluring, if not spaced out

homeland, I have never tried sweet

we prepare them a bit differently; but they're still

awfully glad to know that. This place beats an old pub

practically melting inside her own tennis shoes. She wasn't flattered, but rather anxious to take the

sweet potato hash, and I shall

Lynnette wrote down the man's order. "Okay, and will that be

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