The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Chapter 49

Seated comfortably in the passenger's seat next to Isaiah, Lynnette kept a quiet vigil all to herself. Inside Isaiah's Jeep Caravan all that could be heard was the humming engine, along with the ever present sighing that would every so often come from the woman's agonizing mouth. The Cypress scenery passed by so vividly in Lynnette's eyes that just attempting to focus on or identify one building or landmark was seemingly pointless. All she really desired to do was sit and watch the landscape fly by. The thoughts and recollections inside of her were so jumbled that she had to ball up her fists just to keep from crying all over again.

"We used to have some really cold winters here back in the day." Lynnette sighed so heavily.

Appearing rather amused, Isaiah turned to his mother. "Well, well, the dead has finally awoke." He smirked.

Lynnette just grinned somewhat while keeping her head to the streets. "I remember when you were a baby, I had to take you to the hospital in two feet of snow because you had fallen down the porch steps and bloodied up your knee."

"Oh yeah, Grandma told me about that once."

"Yep, I had to take the bus and walk a block just to get to the hospital. But then again, you were such a rough and tumble little boy." Lynnette said. "Back then, we used to have some monster winters. Not these sissy one's we have today."

Isaiah just chuckled from his gut while asking, "Is that right?"

Glancing over at him, Lynnette replied, "Sure is. These kids today don't know what a real snowstorm is. We used to have Level Three's all the time back then."

"That, and you used to walk ten miles in the snow to school, and ten miles back home." Isaiah quipped. "You used to wash your clothes in the sink. You used to milk the cows before you went to bed at two a.m. every night."

"Boy, you'd better stop that." Lynnette giggled.

Giggling right back, Isaiah replied, "You sound like my students." 'Mr. Glover, I didn't do my homework last night because I had to walk to my grandparents' house in the snow to get some pens.'

"You forget that you used to make up some silly excuses yourself when you were their age, too."

"Yeah, but I don't remember ever using the snow as an excuse."

Lynnette just smiled and looked back out the window again. Isaiah stopped at a traffic light. Standing right in front of a business building was a vendor serving gyros. It was a black man wearing a red, yellow and green beanie hat on his head while lathering a customer's gyro with cucumber sauce. At that very instant the images inside Lynnette's brain ventured right back to the island.

"What's it like being back here again after all these years?" Isaiah suddenly asked as he resumed driving.

Lynnette not only snapped back to life, her body also shook in her seat. Clearing her throat, she answered, "You have to understand, this city looks familiar, but different in so many ways."

"I ask that because your eyes are still swollen from the graveyard." Isaiah kept his eyes glued to the road ahead. "I know that you didn't come all the way back here just to visit your sisters, nieces and nephews."

Lynnette looked hard at Isaiah at that point and asked, "Tell me something, son. What made

Isaiah momentarily glanced over at his mother before saying, "I know he meant something very special to

not it." Lynnette's tone grew stern. "Why did you go and speak to that man's grave today? Yes, you went to speak to your granddad Charles, but you had something to say to

sighed at that moment without once taking his eyes off of the road. "All of my life I've heard Aunt Jackie, Lavonia and Bernadette talk so harshly about him. While Grandpa Charles spoke so fondly. But it was you, mom, that always seemed to hold back whenever his name came up. And when you told me

in her seat. "I...I need for you to pull this thing into a parking lot or

shocked, Isaiah

station for a moment." She pointed to

station parking lot and stopped.

"Mom, what's the matter?"

Lynnette took her son's hand and squeezed so tightly. Trying to catch her breath, she looked deep into the man's eyes

still is, my very first love. We met each other way back in the sixth grade. We met at a food fight, of all places. But as time went on, we went through the ups and downs of being in a relationship. Sometimes we loved so hard, and sometimes we hated so

as she could, as though she

moments, I turned away from him, and ran to another man. It pained me so much to have to tell Isaac what I did, but we went

right back, Isaiah asked, "How is it that you can love a man that nearly killed both you and I? All I've ever heard from the family all my life was how he almost wiped us out. And yet, you sit here telling me how much you loved him. I don't understand that, mom.

back in her seat. The woman exhaled as hard as she could. She had words stored within her for

"Do you remember when

"Yeah,"

for a number of years, but it was in those years that I was allowed to get my soul correct. I went down there because I knew that no one else

of what, mom?" Isaiah replied agitated. "Why still after all these years are you being so elusive with

wasn't his fault. He hurt you and

"Okay, mom, I can't take this anymore." Isaiah tossed up his hands in a frustrated

the hands and

his head in anguish before sighing,

mean, what

pulled his head back and glanced outside

something big with these eyes always staring at me. In the dream it was loud. And for some reason there was always blood surrounding me.

own tears at that instant. She snatched her hands away from

"Mom, what's going on?" He spoke more

He always reminded me of you. I think that's why I gravitated towards him so. I always saw you being just like him; lonely and isolated from your mother. I often wonder

in his seat while trying not to lock eyes with her. She

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