Daddy was fantastic at handling medical emergencies. He was unbelievably cool under pressure if, say, someone had cut off their arm or leg with a chainsaw. But he simply wasnt equipped to handle the kind of emergencies that seemed to crop up whenever I was around. He could cope beautifully with every kind of chaos, except the kind I created. And right now he was stuck. He couldnt work with me or without me.
I felt for him. It was a good thing I was only going to be subbing in this job for two days. If I stayed a week, hed end up sharing a room with Momma in the cardiac ward.
Copyright (c) Carolyn Jourdan 2006-2007. All rights reserved.
Blood at the Root
"A gripping, timely, and important examination of American racism."
- PW Starred Review
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