Jun. 10th, 2011

If extremely lucky, I shall post late tonight.
Big Ray picked Little Ray up at her house. Her name was actually Rashonda, but everybody called her Little Ray, or sometimes Ray-Ray. It was no secret that Big Ray really wanted a grandson named after him, but six daughters and two sons consistently failed to deliver the proper gender. Rashonda was a bone thrown Big Ray’s way, he felt, but he loved that little girl just the same.

He came to the door wearing his bowling shirt and his stained khakis, worn tennis shoes and a simple straw hat. Big Ray had very dark skin but very white, close-cropped hair, and when he smiled his teeth glowed. He rang the doorbell and Little Ray opened the door. She was jumping up and down.

“Grabbing! Grabbing!” she shouted. Her mother Keisha appeared in the doorway holding a paper bag.

“Are we gonna catch something today?” asked Big Ray to his granddaughter. She was five and very, very excited.

“Yeah! Grabbing! Grabbing!” Big Ray took each of his grandchildren grabbing and finally it was Little Ray’s turn. Her mother handed the bag to Big Ray.

“There’s sunscreen, and some water, and a juice box,” she said.

“All right,” said Big Ray, taking the bag. He had all those things in his truck. Did his daughter think he was new at this? Shoot.

“Don’t get her home past dinner,” Keisha warned. “And don’t get her sugared up!”

“I know, I know,” said Big Ray, taking Little Ray’s hand. She skipped down the walk towards the truck. He had bought the truck for eight hundred dollars, and it worked great, although the A/C was permanently out. Little Ray turned to wave to her mother.

“We’ll be back soon!” she said. “With some hands for supper!”

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September 2012

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