Call Me by My Name by John Ed Bradley

Author:John Ed Bradley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers

I followed her inside, and she made enough noise to make certain Mama and Pops knew we were there. They came down the hall in their nightclothes and stood in the middle of the kitchen. Angie was crying, but it wasn’t because she was afraid of Pops. She was afraid for Tater, and she kept pleading with Pops to get dressed and drive us downtown to the police station. Instead Pops went to the sink and drank a glass of tap water, then rinsed out the glass and set it upside down on the drain pan to dry. He was in no hurry to do anything, and I could tell now that neither he nor Mama had been sleeping. Next he opened a cabinet door and removed a tin of coffee. He filled the electric pot with water and spooned some grounds into the basket on top.

Mama, meanwhile, had started pulling bacon and eggs out of the refrigerator. Her skillet was already on the stove. She turned a knob and used a match to light one of the burners, then she warmed the skillet over the flame and lay lengths of the bacon across the surface in neat rows.

And the whole time Angie stood there crying and pleading with Pops to do something. Mama slid a chair out from the table and helped her to sit.

By now I understood who had called Charlie LeBlanc. And Angie must’ve realized it, too. She stopped crying and sat up taller. I offered her some paper napkins to wipe her face, but she pushed it away.

“You called him,” she said to Pops.

He had poured himself some coffee. There was a smile on his face as he brought the cup to his lips.

“You called him!” Angie screamed. “How could you? How could you—”

But Pops threw his cup crashing to the floor and was on top of her before she could say more. Hands on his knees, he brought his face right up to hers and seemed to pin her down in her seat with it. “I will put you out on the street before I let you get away with this, little sister.”

“Get away from me. Rodney . . . Rodney, get him away. . . .”

He stood up and waited to see if I had it in me. I couldn’t look at either of them.

“I didn’t think so,” he said.

The cup lay in pieces on the floor, and coffee was dripping from the bottom cabinets. I thought it was over. But she said quietly, “Rodney,” and started crying again.

Mama came over and positioned herself between them. “Go to the room,” she said. She was talking to Pops. “Go,” she said, trying to keep calm. “Right now. Go to the bedroom.”

I cleaned the floor after he left. I put the pieces from the broken cup in a brown paper bag, and I sopped up the coffee with a sponge. Then I wiped everything with a damp towel.

The house had gone quiet, and Mama started cooking again.

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