Reconstruction by Warren Hately

Author:Warren Hately [Hately, Warren]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-27T22:00:00+00:00

“Today’s Jasmine’s birthday,” she said. “And I miss mom.”

The statement hung in the air like the most acrid smoke. Tom chanced a look Luke’s way. His twisted look was even worse than before.

“Jasmine wasn’t our sister,” he said.

Tom drew a breath and fought the instinct to intervene – the right move at the wrong time.

Just then, a tentative knock sounded at the door and it dawned on Tom he hadn’t told the children his news about Dkembe.

*

LILA SWORE AND vanished into the bathroom before anyone could say anything. Tom threw a look like a life buoy to his son, a wordless gesture with open hands as he gave a subliminal growl of frustration at himself and moved back to the front of the apartment to unlatch the door on its improvised rig.

Dkembe stood with a small sports bag over one shoulder. He gave a weak wave as Tom answered and Tom nodded and simply stood back so he could come in.

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to my children,” Tom said.

“What’s he doing here?”

For an eleven-year-old boy, Lucas moved towards them with a surprising swagger, seemingly unconcerned about threatening a six-foot near-stranger in the prime of his life with such a dangerous look. With a sick feeling, Tom was glad he’d confiscated the knife.

“Luke, chill,” he said and stepped between them. “Dkembe didn’t have anything to do with robbing our place.”

“How can you tell?”

Luke’s eyes at once fell to Dkembe’s feet encased in weathered work boots.

“I asked him,” Tom said.

He shot Dkembe an apologetic look.

“The break-in had us all rattled,” he explained.

“I wanna see his boots,” Lucas said. “The soles.”

Dkembe held up his hands before Tom could say anything else.

“Hey man, it’s fine,” he said. “Look.”

The apocalypse had sharpened Dkembe’s frame, which lacked the heavier muscle he’d look more comfortable carrying. But the constant work – and survival – had kept him flexible and lean. He wrestled one of his boots off in a heartbeat and thrust it at Tom’s son.

“Here,” he said. “If you need this to trust me, do it.”

The unexpected openness threw the boy. As Tom knew, it was sometimes easier to go on the attack than deal with the more subtle moments. His son’s eyes dropped to Dkembe’s boot as if not knowing what else to do, and he took the item and dutifully turned it over and just as quickly had his beliefs quashed. They were nothing like the tread of whoever kicked in the family’s front door.

Lucas thrust the boot back into Dkembe’s hands and quit the room, flustered and embarrassed as if shamed before them.

Lilianna returned as if following stage directions. At least her face lit up to see Dkembe, her earlier sadness shelved for now. Looking awkward, the young man dipped his head and flashed the slightest of smiles. He deposited his gear, head still down, and something in Tom’s heart broke for a moment and he walked over and squeezed Dkembe’s shoulder. At once, the young man collapsed in tears.

Tom

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