Sister?  God has no worse creation than those men.I know that ain’t you. She’s coming around. Can’t be cause you dead.She’s staggered. Let’s try ag…

Sister?

God has no worse creation than those men.

I know that ain’t you.

She’s coming around.

Can’t be cause you dead.

She’s staggered. Let’s try again.

Who’s talking?

She’s been breathing in the dust.

Mama?

Part of the building fell on her but they got her out.

Can’t be Mama neither.

They bombed the church?

She been dead longer than you, Sister.

On my count.

I ain’t in the house no more, is it?

Come on. Again.

Where am I?

They bombed everything there except the saved souls.

Smell like bleach.

In your son Jesus’ name we ask for healing, Father-God.

I can’t catch no air.

Again.

I know something done happened.

Let’s help her breathe.

Hurts too much.

Pulse?

I can’t feel my feet.

Again.

Maybe I can.

Again.

Okay. I can.

She’s back.

Who back? I can’t see nothing.

Pulse?

Oh, cause my eyes still closed.

She’s leveling out.

Something blurring up my eye.

Let’s see if she will last through the night.

My head hurt. Back hurt. Legs hurt. Feel like somebody done marched all up and down my chest. Can’t barely see. All I smell is smoke. In my hair. My skin. Seem like I even taste it. They keep asking me my name but I don’t remember. I don’t tell them that, though. I say the only name I can remember.

Verlinda. But that’s your name, not mine.

I keep seeing you when I close my eyes. Short, plump, hair down your back in them thick braids, and white-white teeth. You got on that dress that make you look like Torchy Brown – navy blue with little yellow flowers all over it. You barefoot, toes painted bright red.

Pretty like a little doll.

You was like a little doll when you was born. Mama ‘nem used to tell everybody I was too scared to look but that wadn’t it. I just wadn’t ready to see your face yet. It had to be special. Because all that time before you, I was by myself with Mama, I work like she work. All day Mama clean up piss, wipe Mrs. Gladys ‘nem hog jowl, too-white face, and make soup on a big stove for her to scotch down. Call Mama stupid and nig and little girl.

But I’s the one little. I couldn’t have been no more than 10 back then. I ain’t have nobody to play with except the dragonflies, frogs, and lightening bugs when it was hot, and rabbits and squirrels when it got cooler.

I almost had a friend one time. A small dog that got hurt in the woods. Tail cut off, foot all bent up wrong. Barely could bark. Look like somebody snatched off one of the ears. I brought it home wrapped up close to my chest in my shirt, but Daddy say naw.

“That dog ain’t gone live long, lil baby,” he take that little dog from my arms and look at it real good.

“Can we try again, Daddy? Please? Again?”

“Naw, ain’t nothing we can do,” Daddy rub the little dog under the chin. “Eunice,” Daddy call loud cause mama out on the back step washing greens. “Come get little baby.”

She was all bigged up with you then, moving slow. She ain’t say nothing when she saw the little dog. She just come and take me in.

BOOM.

Daddy, cussing, “Gahd-damn.”

BOOM.

I ain’t see that little dog no more.

A few days after that come you. They call you Verlinda. How come I remember your name but not mine?

I remember the day before when Mama had fell sick. She cut up all them apples and baked them into a cake for church. Nuts. Raisins. Cinnamon. Cream. I can’t remember what else. You ate so much your stomach started hurting, but we ain’t have time to see after you. Mama took to the bed and a few hours later she coughed up her heart like it was a piece of phlegm caught in her throat.

It got too hot for me in the bed, so I get up and try to walk around a little. All I could do is sit up and look. I see I’m in Taborian Hospital, all the way over in Mound Bayou. The calendar say October 8, 1941.

So now I know that much.

A nurse come bring me a bite to eat. Collards, cornbread, bits of chicken all chopped up. Wonder do it look like I forgot how to chew? They got a mirror on the wall opposite my bed so I turn and look. Got one eye a swole shut line where my eye should be. The other eye ain’t swole, but the part that supposed to be white dark red. I can see out of it just fine though. Got a knot on my head the size of them wild apples Mama cut up. Skin the color of sand in the river. Some places dark and rough. Some smooth and down to the white meat. My face still fat with eye brows too thick and that space between my teeth, though. I look like Mama. Bug eyes. Short hair that curl to the scalp with the spaces in between each one.

 Shoulda told them my name was bb shot. I touch my head where the knot is and it hurt so bad a scream catch in my throat. The room turn gray, then white.

We just brought her dinner.

Warm air in my nose.

She’s still breathing but labored.

My chest shole do ache.

Pulse?

Wonder is my heart gone bust out my chest?

They bombed everything except her soul.

Something ain’t right.

She’s aspirating.

Seem cold now, but I was just hot.

Turn her on her side.

Freezing now.

Suction.

My throat too tight.

Again.

I got a lump in my throat.

Again.

Maybe when I swallow I be all right.

Hold on, love.

I’m gone try to swallow like I did those chicken chunks.

Again.

That’s better.

Again.

Everything’s better.

Again.

Floating now.

Pulse?

Again.

Again.

Again.