Just Different

Denis Gray

Description

James “Brick” Carter is the father of two boys: James Carter Jr. and Justin Carter. A New Yorker born in Harlem, he lives in Queens with his wife, Florence. Brick is a subway engineer for New York’s transit system. In his youth, his parents nicknamed him Brick based on his stubborn ways. A Black man, Brick believes in family values and job advancement in the workplace from one generation to the next. He preaches that. Therefore, that value is to be applied to his sons James Jr. and Justin. They must inherit his way of thinking for them to become “a Carter man.”
But slowly, as his sons develop, Brick finds certain traits in one of them that he feels will, in the long run, lead to his doom. That day comes, and not even Brick can stop the event that will destroy the Carter family.

Sujets

• Vie de famille
• Relations familiales
• Thrillers
• Emotions (álbum)
• Feelings
• Different
• Uniqueness quantification
• Emotion
• Pour toi
• Family
• Unique
• Novel
• Emotions
• Suspense
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 25 juin 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9798369401088
• Langue: English

Extrait

JUST DIFFERENT
 
 
 
 
 
 
Denis Gray
 
Copyright © 2023 by Denis Gray.
Library of Congress Control Number:
2023911186
ISBN:
Hardcover
979-8-3694-0109-5
 
Softcover
979-8-3694-0107-1
 
eBook
979-8-3694-0108-8
 
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 06/23/2023
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
853191
JUST DIFFERENT
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 1
If Justin could die for James, he would.
The building was to the back of Justin T. Carter. The worst part of today was now. He thought the worst part of today meant going into that building. He was wrong. The worst part of today was right now. What did he know about himself, his feelings, until now?
James was his brother, the only biological brother he had. His big brother. You look up to your big brother no matter what. Not unless something bad, really bad, happens between you do you stop.
“James, you were born first. Here before me.”
This particular December day was warm (the weather had been tricky: cold and now this). And yet Justin felt as cold as winter. He felt the whip of wind in him. He wanted to cry knowing the worst was not yet over—not for him and James . . . and Florence, Brick, the twins, Clarissa, and Michael. The Carter family. And not for anyone who had a strong connection with the Carter family’s tragedy.
But Justin Thomas Carter knew that if he looked back at the building... he’d see the sum total of his life.
Should I? Should . . . shou ld I?
F ebruary 5, 1962
“Haha. Look at him, Flo,” Brick Carter said, holding the baby in his thick arms. “Look at the boy.”
“Just because the baby’s home from the hospital doesn’t mean his attitude’s going to change any, Brick,” Florence said from the bed.
“Uh—no, uh . . . guess not, Flo,” Brick said, boring his gaze into the baby as if maybe he could convince her otherwise.
“Justin, go ahead. Kick. Show your father who’s boss!”
Brick bristled. “Ain’t but one boss here in the Carter household, you know that, Flo. And that’s me,” he said, walking the baby back to the bed. “And that ain’t gonna change. Man’s still the king of his castle. Ain’t gonna change, Flo.”
Brick sat on the bed. The baby had stopped kicking. Now it was stretching. “Tires easy, don’t he?”
“Oh, Brick,” Florence said, leaning toward Brick and the baby. “He’s only a baby after all.”
Brick edged closer to Florence to place her head atop his shoulder. “But look at his legs.”
“Uh, you mean ham hocks, don’t you?”
“They’re beautiful, Brick.” She pinched the baby’s left leg. “Chubby. So much to pinch!”
The baby gurgled.
“Weighed in at nine pounds six ounces,” Brick said as if bragging.
“Don’t I know. Yes, you did, Justin Thomas Carter,” Florence said, tickling the baby’s feet.
“Ain’t comparing the two, Justin and James Jr.”
“So what are you about to do, Brick? May I inquire?”
“Yeah . . . uh, guess I am, was. But James Jr. was a lightweight in the weight department. Skin and bones. Haha . . . compared here to Justin.”
“Phew,” Florence said, leaning her back against the pillow. “That you can say again. A pound and a few ounces make a difference. Especially in the final months of pregnancy. Of me carrying him.”
“Gonna get him back to the crib, Flo. Back over.”
Florence watched as Brick gently carried the baby back across the bedroom floor and to his brown-stained crib. She remembered him doing that for James with the same pride in his stride. Brick stood over the wooden crib. “Tired too.”
Florence patted the bed. “Come, honey. There’s plenty of room.”
Brick was in a shirt and pants (shoeless, sockless).
“Climb aboard.”
Neatly, Brick removed his clothing. Neatly, he put his clothes over the available chair in the corner of the room.
“We’ll get a little rest before the baby asks for his bottle,” Florence said, eyeing the nightstand clock.
Brick was in his drawers (white). “Know the baby’s routine already. Ain’t bragging, are you, Flo? Haha.”
Florence pulled back the terry-cloth sheet. She kissed his chest when he settled in. “Mmm . . .”
“We already got two. Ain’t aiming, angling on having three no time soon.”
“Mmm. It does, just feels so good to hold my husband. Have him next to me.”
Brick wrapped his arms around her.
“Oh, about thirty minutes, a half hour, he’ll be crying for his bottle.”
“Can tell the baby’s smart. Gonna be smarter than me. Way. Get farther along, ahead of me.”
“Brick, you—”
“Done better than my father. And our baby, Justin, the boy’s gonna do better than me, Flo. Way better.”
Florence shut her eyes.
“How it’s supposed to work, Flo. Supposed to go. It’s how the Carter family, and the colored race, is supposed to move ahead. Ain’t supposed to stand still. Off track.”
Florence sighed. “I’m plain tuckered out.”
“James too.”
“Haha. I know. James is truly excited by his baby brother. They’re going to be the best of friends. Best of brothers. Something I feel, Brick. They’re already bonding.”
“Well . . . for two people who said they supposed to be getting rest . . .”
“We are doing a pretty poor job at it.” Pause. “Brick, I’ll be back on my feet tomorrow. By tomorrow,” Florence said guiltily.
“Flo, don’t—”
“Ssh. Ssh, now,” Florence said, pressing her fingers to Brick’s lip. “You, haha, know how you hate to cook.”
Brick could only smile at the truth like it was one of his leather-tough pork chops that hit him dead on between the eyes. “Carter men, uh, never been much for cooking. Can’t say we have. None of us.”
 
“Wah! Wah!”
For the moment, at least, Florence and Brick had no idea where they were the in the universe.
“Wah! Wah!”
“Momma, Daddy, the baby’s crying. J-Justin’s crying!”
Three-year-old James Carter Jr. dashed into his parents’ bedroom. Florence’s head was the first to pop up. Brick’s head, though, slowly inched its way up off the pillow.
“Didn’t you hear him, Momma, Daddy?”
Now Florence gained her bearings. James stood in front of Justin’s crib—the one that had been his, that his grandparents, John and Adele, Bricks’ parents, had bought him. Justin was wrapped in a blue cloth blanket.
“Coming, James. Honey.”
“Daddy,” James said, turning his back to Brick. “Justin, uh, just wants his bottle.”
“Looks like he wants to be changed too, James,” Florence said, hustling over to the crib.
“Momma, he stinks,” James said, his small nose sniffing a pungent odor.
“Phew. Does he? Does he ever!” Florence pinched her nose for James’s benefit.
“I used to smell like that, Momma?”
“You did, James,” Brick answered, now out of the bed and on his feet. “All babies smell sweet to their mothers, though, James. How it goes.”
James’s small face pinched into a ball of confusion. “But, Momma, thought you just said—”
“James, hand me the pins. And be careful with them, OK?”
The short dressing table was no more than a foot from James. (It had been his too, but Florence and Brick had bought it—not his grandparents).
“Wah! Wah!”
“OK, Justin, OK,” Florence said, wiping Justin’s reddish-brown butt. “You know help’s here. Your mother’s here, honey. On the job.”
“H-here, Momma.”
“Thank you, James.”
James proudly looked up at his father. His large hand was back on top James’s tiny shoulder. “Good boy, James.”
“And now for you, Justin . . .,” Florence said, removing Justin from his crib. “Now to, haha, clean away your blues.”
Brick had to chuckle. “Now what’s the baby know about the blues, Flo? Right, James? Little as he is.”
James’s face recorded a new frown. “Right, uh, right, Daddy.”
After Justin was changed and fed, Florence and Brick went back to bed. But James couldn’t take his eyes off his brother.
“So little, ain’t—”
“Isn’t . . .”
“Isn’t like me.”
“He is big for a baby, James.”
“Bigger than most, James.”
“Said Justin was bigger than me. Remember, Daddy?”
“Much.”
“Why’s he drink so much . . . so much milk all the time?”
But before Florence or Brick could answer, James was on to a new question. “Do you think he’ll be able to play with me soon?”
“Uh, but nothing roughhouse, James. Not the way you and your friends play. Not that, honey.”
“No, Momma?”
“No.”
“D-Daddy?”
“Uh-uh, James. Baby’s bones too tiny, small. Can’t play roughhouse with him. Gotta be . . . gotta . . .” Brick was stuck.
“I know, Daddy: how Momma treats him.” Pause. “I love Ju