Where are you Jesse? Please find me before he finds you.
“Mom is asking for us to come down for dinner,” Jade says as she stands in the doorway to Cason’s room.
“Shit! I forgot she asked us to have dinner tonight.” I turn to Cason, who is laying against his headboard looking jacked up. He showered, so at least the blood is gone, but his face is bruised, and his eye is still swollen shut.
“He can’t go down there looking like this,” Jade says. “Mom will flip. Dad will ask too many questions.”
“I’ll just tell them you’re sick,” I say.
“She’ll just want to come check on me,” Cason says. His voice is laced with pain. “There is no way out of this one, guys. I’m going to be banged up for a while. She’ll see me eventually. May as well get it over with. Besides, this isn’t the first time one of us has shown up bruised and beaten. She’ll think we’re up to no good, yell at us, cry about it, and then tell me she loves me.”
“And James?” I ask. “He’ll see through it, you know.”
“It is what it is. Tell him I was drunk and ran into a fist on the wrong hand. He’ll accept that we were being dumb boys. He expects that from us.” He groans as he sits up. I give him my hand to help lift him to his feet.
“I don’t like this. At all.” Jade eyes Cason as he reaches the door and stands next to her.
He pats her shoulder and offers her a smile. “It’s the best part, little sis. Think of all the girls I can get to kiss my boo-boos.” I’m sure he’d wink at her if he could.
Jade rolls her eyes and steps out of his way. Cason continues his slow trek downstairs with her following close behind like a worried mother, and I stare after my siblings.
Cason rolls with the punches but he wouldn’t have to if it wasn’t for me. Neither of them would have to if I did a better job of taking care of my family.
I follow them to the dining room. Cason stops just short of the entrance and braces himself with a hand up on the wall. He closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep breath. I know that look—he’s preparing himself. It’s what we do when we can’t show pain to Mom and we need an impenetrable wall to face Dad.
He opens his eyes and looks forward.
“You ready for this?” I whisper as I stand alongside him and look into the room where Mom is placing the dishes of food on the massive dining table.
Cason nods, pushes off the wall and walks in. Mom doesn’t see him at first. She’s too busy rearranging the food. But the moment she looks up, all bets are off. Her worry instantly flashes across her face and she goes into full Mom-mode.
“Cason! Oh my god, what happened to you?” she asks as she rounds the table to reach him. The moment she does she begins to run her hands gently over Cason’s body, checking him over. She begins to lift his shirt, and he holds back a wince the best he can as he shoves her hands down.
“Momma C, I’m fine. I was just roughing it up with the boys and things got a little out of hand,” he tells her.
She reaches up and gingerly touches his face, her eyes searching his for the truth. “Oh baby, are you sure? I’m taking you to the doctor. Just let me get my keys.”
She starts to walk away but Cason catches her hand. “Mom, look at me. I promise I’m okay. I don’t need a doctor. But I do need that cornbread I spy on the table . . .”
He puts his arm around her shoulders, steering towards the table. “You made it from scratch, right? Please tell me that’s your cornbread. Cause that’s the best medicine I could get right now.”
Mom chuckles weakly as Cason sits down at the table. “Of course it is. Here baby, let me fix your plate.”
Cason willingly gives his plate over to her, and she begins piling on the food. Cason looks up to me and smirks. He’s going to soak up all the babying he can get out of her. And she’ll take it as far as he’ll let her, because one of her babies is hurt.
“You sure you didn’t fall into a fist looking for that damn girl?” James’s voice slithers in like a snake ready to strike. I find him leaning in the doorway with his tie loose and his sleeves rolled up, holding on to a half-empty glass of scotch. I was prepared for shit from him, but sober shit is much easier to deal with than drunk shit from James Callaway.
“James, let’s not do this tonight. I just want to have one nice dinner together. Can you manage that?” my mother asks. She tries to keep the exasperation from her tone, but we can all hear it.
James shrugs one shoulder and walks in, taking his seat at the head of our table.
“Your son gets jumped over some random girl who has done nothing but bring trouble to our family. She is holding them all back from their full potential. But sure, we can sit down and pretend nothing is wrong here,” James says. He gestures to the table with one hand while still holding onto that scotch with the other. “Please, let’s continue,” he says sarcastically. “Sit down and fix your plates.”
“James,” Mom says wearily.
“Sit down, Catherine.” His hand slams on the table. My mother jumps but finds her seat between him and Cason.
I look to Cason and then Jade, who are both looking a little tense. I slowly walk to my chair and sit down across from my mother. I keep my balled hands under the
