PRL Serials

“…please blame it on the Son of the Morning”

– Jay-Z

Zora liked to stand at the door of the nursery with her legs crossed, balancing lightly in the frame and resting on her shoulder. She looked at everything inside, considering each object. There was a wooden toy bin with the top swung all the way back, exposing a mountain of toys that overflowed onto the floor. There were stuffed animals scattered in front of it, trucks and model cars. Her little boys were as messy as every other boy their age. They ransacked their toys daily. Zora liked to sit with them on the carpet in the center of the room as Anthony waddled to the open bin and picked out a toy that he didn’t really seem to want; he usually picked them up absent-mindedly then begrudgingly looked  at them before tossing them angrily at the floor. Zora softly reprimanded him as he went through the routine a few more times until he finally picked up the one that pleased him and he would sit close to his mother on the carpet deeply occupied with it. Lincoln liked to scatter things already in disarray on the floor. He crawled around clawing at things on the floor, batting them around noisily, then laughing hysterically that high-pitched, rolling laugh that made Zora smile no matter how stressed she found herself.

Zora’s eyes wandered up the wall directly across from her. Up near the ceiling, she had painted a serene sky, complete with clouds and birds and a little plane whizzing into the foreground. She’d spent a lot of time in the room when she was pregnant with Lincoln, she hadn’t worked since the month Anthony was born two years before. Zora talked to Richard about going back to work often, she was eager to get back to the school and start work of her own so she could become a teacher just like Richard. They decided that Zora could start all that when Lincoln was older. In the meantime, Zora made sure the house was nice and that every meal was delicious. She kept a small flower garden in the back that she loved to tend when the sun was out. The wall in the nursery was her most favorite project of all, though, and she found herself adding to it often. It started with the sky but she eventually added enough to complete the scene, tall trees next to a lake, a tan walkway leading up into hills. She liked for Anthony and Lincoln to contribute and let them scribble in the bright blue of the lake or the grass, any big plane they could easily maneuver without going too much outside the lines. Richard discouraged it at first, “What if they start coloring on all the walls?” he asked her, looking at the jagged stripes of paint he knew the kids had added. But Zora was adamant, she saw how much Anthony enjoyed it, and Lincoln would get completely quiet following Zora’s brush on the wall like he was entranced by the movement. It was one of the few times Zora could enjoy a playtime with her sons that wasn’t loud and chaotic.

Their last addition to the wall was a dog chasing a little boy with a green kite that reached up to the sky. It had a long tail that rippled on the wind. Zora had drawn it in herself and it was easy to see that she let Anthony color in the boy’s clothes and the dog’s fir. She smiled at it then let her gaze continue to the two beds where her sons slept side by side next to the window that had a long floor-length, light blue curtain hanging in front of it. Both boys were long into naps and Zora knew they would wake up any minute now. She looked at Anthony’s pudgy cheeks. The way he slept, with his face rested on his forearm, made his face look plumper than it actually was. He had a nose just like his father, flat at the nostrils but skinny at the top. His hair was short and rough and his skin was the same brown as his mother’s. Lincoln slept with a smile on his face and a thumb in his mouth. He slept on his back and usually played with his toes until he fell asleep, so there was always one leg crossing the other and an arm across his chest.

It was a quiet late afternoon, after three Zora learned from her watch. She had finished the laundry earlier in the day and she wanted to start dinner by four. The kids would be up soon, Richard would be home before five. Zora walked into the room and turned up the baby monitor that sat on the table in between her son’s beds. Then she knelt between them and put a hand on each of theirs.

“Dear God, keep them from their darker urges.” She said it quietly then brought her head down to the floor. She stood and grabbed a small bottle of olive oil she kept in the window sill, opened it and wet the tip of her middle finger. Leaning over Anthony, she gently crossed his forehead, leaving a shiny ‘t’ on his skin. She did the same to Lincoln and put the oil back in its place and left the room.

The other monitor was in the laundry room and Zora had to cross the kitchen to get it. It was sitting on the shelf just above the washer and dryer, and Zora grabbed for it. She missed and it tumbled down onto the washer with a loud bang. Zora jumped, she expected to hear the insides of the monitor crack out onto the floor and she fell back into the wall behind her with panic. Her eyes were wide and her hand shot up to her chest and she cradled her torso while she breathed loudly, doubling over onto the floor. She let out a loud breath when she realized that everything was fine, that the monitor was unbroken. She smiled and walked over to grab the monitor. The house was quiet again. There was no sound at all and Zora put her hands down onto the cool metal of the washer and took another deep breath.

“I’m rising slowly, Mommy.”

She could have sworn that she heard it clearly, as clearly as a baby monitor plays audio. Zora did not open her eyes immediately. The voice came again,

“I’m rising slowly.”

A noise rose behind the voice on the monitor. Indistinguishable at first, quiet and dryly sounding like a small fan. The sound slowly rose in volume. It whirled and whistled slightly and Zora took a step back from the sound.

“You can’t chase me out.”

Zora slammed the door closed and ran out into the kitchen. She fell into a chair at the kitchen table gasping for breath, looking back at the doors of the laundry room. One door swung slowly on its hinge and creaked long and lazily, like a fading wail. She could still hear the monitor, quietly whirring and cracking in the laundry room. Zora wanted to run away from it, part of her wanted to hear what it was saying now. She approached it, lightly taking steps closer to it and then a thought struck her suddenly. The other monitor was in the nursery.

She took off toward the hallway and exploded into the room where Lincoln was crying loudly on his back. Anthony was still fast asleep.

Zora stopped fast just inside the doorway and watched Lincoln screaming there on his back. His face was twisted, his arms fidgeted and his fists wandered aimless in the air. Zora covered her mouth with both her hands and started to sob along with him. Her eyes welled and flooded over as she walked over to him and grabbed him up from the bed. He rested his head on her shoulder and his arm wrapped around her neck. Zora gently rocked him and made her way over to the rocking chair in the corner next to the door. Lincoln continued to cry loudly until Zora was rocking slowly back and forth in the chair. Both their sobs gently subsided and before long Lincoln was sleeping again.

Zora had been looking out the window when Anthony walked over and put a small hand on her leg.

“Hey Tony,” Zora said, wiping her face and forcing a smile. “You hungry?” She stood and grabbed his hand, still holding Lincoln close to her, and the three of them walked out to the kitchen. Zora put Lincoln into his high chair and he began to slowly open his eyes. He took one last breath in sleep and opened his eyes wide as he yawned and put a fist to his cheek. Lincoln had longer hair than Anthony’s, it was curlier and his skin was lighter. His face was more handsome than Anthony’s, too, and Zora could tell that he would grow up to be a handsome man just like his father.

Anthony wandered around the kitchen occupying himself with a big wooden spoon Zora never used to prepare food. There were no lights on but the kitchen was bright from the sun coming through the window. Zora leaned into the refrigerator with a hand on the door hoping that being closer to the food would help to train her mind on the task at hand. Her body felt uneasy, like she was shivering slightly. It was not cold in the kitchen, but Zora could not seem to control herself. She grabbed for hotdogs and threw them on the counter next to the buns. And fries, she decided, fishing them out of the full freezer. Richard liked hotdogs, and it was Friday so he wouldn’t have expected a roast or fried chicken. He might have wanted to rent a movie after dinner, or go out for ice cream. Zora fixed food for Anthony quickly and sat it on the table. She lifted him into his chair and he started into his meal. She fed Lincoln who didn’t put down his rattle the entire time. He insisted on shaking it and dropping it over and over.

There was a sound from the living room and Zora knew that Richard was home. She let Lincoln finish the spoon he was sucking slowly then she stood and walked in to greet him. Richard had set his bag on the couch and was taking his shoes off by the door. His tie swayed down from his neck. When his shoes were off, he took off his belt and untucked his shirt. He looked up at her then and smiled on noticing her.

“Hey baby.” He stood with his arms outstretched and waited for her to approach him. She rushed to his arms and they hugged. He kissed her softly on the forehead.

“It’s good to be home. Long day today. Them kids worked every one of my nerves.”

Zora laughed, “You know you love them kids.”

“I know I love Friday,” he said and kissed her one last time on the lips. “What we doin’ tonight? I need to relax before tomorrow, I gotta take a field trip to Charlotte. All twelve of the yearbook staff is going to this conference and I’m the only chaperone.”

“Whatever you wanna do, it really don’t matter to me.” Zora followed Richard into the kitchen where he kissed Anthony on the top of his head and then Lincoln’s.

“How these little devils treat you today?” He said it jokingly and even laughed afterwards, knowing that the boys were never too much for Zora to handle. She was a great mother in his eyes, always in control of everything.

Zora’s voice choked in her throat. 

“Wh..what..?” she stammered. She thought about the voice on the baby monitor and a chill rose through her. She almost started to cry again; she lifted a hand to her face and she was happy that Richard had started to feed Lincoln again, that he couldn’t see what she must have looked like.

“Good day today?” he asked without looking at her.

“Umm, yeah, good day.” She took a deep breath to collect herself.

“I talked to your brother today. He said your Grandmama’s not doing too good. We should go see her tomorrow when I get back from Charlotte.”

Zora only nodded. She dreaded her grandmother on her deathbed. She had become crazed in her dying days. She only ever looked out at visitors blankly until they decided they’d had enough.