Free Strong Medicine by Angela Meadon

heard men from the village coming down the path and we ran away with the fingers, but we didn’t have the eyes. The man wouldn’t pay us.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
     
     
    The old man held the crystal glass to his nose and breathed the fragrant aroma of the whiskey into his chest. The subtle wooden flavors danced on his senses and made his tongue water. A grandfather clock stood between two bookshelves behind him, ticking off the seconds with precision. the old man guarded his time in his study jealously, it was the only quiet time he ever had to himself. This evening the heavy drapes and thick pile carpet muffled the sounds of his daughter’s sobs.
    “Tell me what happened,” he said before taking a small sip of the honey-smooth liquid.
    “I was sitting outside school with my friends and the teacher came out.” Jacob sat on the other side of the large oak table, his gaze fixed on his shoes, shoulders slumped, hands tucked beneath his legs. Evelyn sat next to him, snotty tissues clasped between her fingers, tears streaking her cheeks.
    “He shouted at us for being there too late, told us we must go home. Some of the guys started shouting back, and then somebody threw a plastic bottle at him.”
    The boy’s body said he felt guilty about his actions, but his voice was strong and proud. The old man took another sip of his drink and motioned for his grandson to continue.
    “The teacher got angrier, he threatened to beat us, but he was alone and it was almost dark. One of the guys punched him and he fell down. Then the others started hitting him and kicking him. A car came up the road and we ran away.”
    “Did you strike the teacher, Jacob?”
    “No, Tata. I was there but I didn’t hit him.”
    “Then why did you have blood on your shoes?” Evelyn asked.
    “Maybe from when I was running?” Jacob glanced at his mother, barely lifting his head as he did.
    The old man squinted his eyes even further. The boy’s words did not carry the sound of truth in them.
    He didn’t like being lied to, but he didn’t want to embarrass his daughter by calling her son a liar. She’d brought him here to try and help with his truancy and fighting, but what can an old man do to stop a boy from hanging around the wrong type of children?
    “Evelyn, please will you go to the kitchen and see how dinner is coming along?” the old man said.
    “Yes, Tata.” Evelyn stood and curtsied before leaving the room with a wistful backward glance at her son.
    “Close the door on your way,” the old man called after her.
    With the door closed, they wouldn’t be interrupted. the old man drank the last of his whiskey and placed the tumbler carefully on the leather coaster on his desk.
    “This isn’t the first time your mother has brought you to me,” he said.
    Jacob’s shoulders squared and he straightened his back, less apologetic now that Evelyn had left.
    “I have to show my friends that I am a man, Tata. You must know how that is?”
    “Hmm, when I was a boy, we would go to the mountains for circumcision. All the boys who came back were men. Sometimes we would challenge each other to stick fights, but we never attacked our elders.”
    “We can’t do that in the city, Tata. How do I show my friends that I am a man?”
    “You show them by your actions, Jacob!” the old man pushed his chair away from the table and stood on trembling knees. “You show them by behaving like a man. You show courage, compassion, and sacrifice.”
    “Yes, Tata.”
    Again, Jacob’s words and his feelings didn’t match up. the old man could see it in the cast of his mouth. The way he held his lips slightly pursed and up-turned on the left side.
    The boy didn’t have a strong role-model in his life. His father had left when Jacob was four years old. Twelve years was a long time to live with your mother and two sisters. the old man had tried to steer the boy, to teach him how to be the man of the house. It was clear to him, now, that he