Drowning to Breathe

“Not today, sweet girl. I have to get you home. Your mother has big plans for you this week.”


Shea frowned, but didn’t say anything while her Grandma drove them across town and pulled to a stop in front of the small blue house where Shea lived with her momma and daddy.

For some reason, though, her daddy hadn’t been around all that much lately.

Her grandma shut off the car and got out, held open the back door, and Shea scrambled out. Shea took off up the sidewalk and up the two concrete steps, hoping her momma was happy today.

Hoping to see her smile.

Her momma was so, so pretty. Shea was going to be just like her one day.

Shea burst through the front door. “I’m home!” she called.

Her grandma emerged behind her. She handed her the small bag Shea packed when she went to spend the night at her house. “Go on and put your stuff away in your room.”

“Okay.” Shea grinned and ran down the hall, tossed the bag on her floor, and flew right back out.

Though she slowed when she heard the voices in the kitchen.

Those voices were upset and low.

Shea slinked quietly across the living room and pressed her back against the wall close to the kitchen, wondering why her gramma and momma were so mad.

“You can’t go putting your dreams on the shoulders of your daughter. She’s too young for you to be pushing her into all that mess.”

Her mother huffed, and Shea could hear things banging around in the kitchen, like her momma was angry and just needed to throw something.

“She’s the one who ruined those dreams.”

“You’re going to blame a child for you not making it? That has to be the most selfish thing to ever come out of your mouth, Chloe Lynn. It wasn’t her fault you went and got yourself knocked up doing anything you could to get your foot in the door.”

Her mother’s voice dropped real deep. Angry. Angry. Angry. “Don’t you dare,” her mother seethed.

Shea pressed her hands to her ears and wished she could drown it out.

But their words were still there.

“Then don’t you dare treat that little girl as anything less than the gift she is. Maybe God put her with you to keep you from continuing down the destructive path you’d been following for too many years. Maybe it’s time you listened.”

“I’m not a little girl and I definitely don’t need to listen to your naggin’ anymore. She’s my daughter, and I’ll damn well do with her as I please.”

A beat of silence. In it, Shea’s tummy filled with something sour.

Then her grandma’s voice got quiet. “Do with her as you please? She’s not a possession.”

Her momma laughed, but it wasn’t a pretty sound. “Really? She belongs to me, so I’d say that pretty much sums it up.”

Shea pressed herself closer against the wall, wishing she could disappear. She always wanted to make her momma proud, but lately, she always seemed to be so mad.

Her momma said it was Shea’s daddy’s fault.

Shea sucked in a deep breath and closed her eyes real tight when footsteps creaked across the kitchen floor. She opened them when she couldn’t help it any longer, because she felt someone close, and she found her grandma kneeling in front of her.

Her grandma looked sad, and she tilted her head to the side, her voice soft.

“I want you to remember something, sweet girl. You sing when you feel it in here.” Her grandma placed her hand over Shea’s hammering heart.

“When it feels right and good and makes you happy. Don’t ever do it for any other reason.”

Then she stood and walked out.





DOWNSTAIRS, THE FRONT DOOR rattled. It jarred me from where I’d crawled along the periphery of sleep. Never quite grasping it. Hovering somewhere between reality and a dream. A dream where I’d been haunted by a little girl with a mane of unruly blonde hair and the voice of an angel.

A. L. Jackson's books