Sunday Sample - DNA

Sunday, December 8, 2019


Today's sample comes to you from DNA, which is coming in January. 

At the sound of his voice, Troy looked up and Junior lowered the tablet. The apprehension in his eyes squeezed Amoy’s heart. She swallowed hard, wishing with her whole heart that the man she married wasn’t such a sneak, and that she had even the whisper of a plan to put things right between them.

Russ laid his hand on top of hers, which rested on her knees. “We didn’t tell you that we’ll be moving away for a while. To Miami.”

Troy pumped his fists. “Wow! When?”

In a few months.

 “But … ” Troy looked at Junior over his shoulder, then back at his father. “What about Grandpa and our friends?”

“All of us?” Junior blurted and sat forward, his gaze swiveling between Russ and her.
Russ’s hesitation was barely perceptible, but it like a dart piercing Amoy.

He nodded, then glanced at her.

Amoy didn’t look at him, but felt him shift. Her insides were shattering in tiny pieces as anxiety shrouded her son. He’d always been her joy. Bright and bubbly. Now, because of something she didn’t know she’d done, he was turning into an insecure shadow of himself.
She let her gaze go to Junior as Russ explained the situation. Junior kept his eyes on her and instinctively, she pulled her lips into a smile to reassure him. Hard to do, since she didn’t know whether she was coming or going.

“ … not necessary for you to know all of that now.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue. That’s all you need to know this minute.”

Frowning, Amoy wondered what she’d missed.

Russ directed a glare at Junior that had him lowering his eyes to his lap. When his lips trembled, Amoy pulled her hand away. “Junior, go to your room.

“We’re not finished yet,” Russ said, his tone tight.

“Russ—”

Russ overrode her words. “Like I said, we’re not done.”

Using the side of his fist, Junior swiped at his cheek and curled in on himself.

Troy sat on his heels staring at them, his brows wrinkled.

Exhaling on a loud tide, Amoy counted to five. Her gaze swept both boys, then under her breath she said, “Can’t you see what you’re doing—”

“You wanted us to have this talk.” The flash of annoyance in his eyes was unmistakable. “That’s what I’m doing, if you’d let me.”

She studied him sifting through the range of emotions she witnessed—anger, disgust, frustration. Keeping her voice even, she said, “I’m only trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” he ground out. His jaw flexed as he continued. “You’ve done enough already.”

Her eyes widened and the air rushed from her chest. She pulled her head back. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Mommy, you said a bad word.”

Troy was on his feet, pointing at her. “You said a—”

“Yes, honey.” She got up, throwing Russ a bad look. Lowering her voice, she added, “Mommy’s sorry.”

As her attention turned to Junior, who sniffed and rubbed a tear off the tablet screen. 

Holding out her hand toward him, she said, “Junior, let’s go.”

Amoy circled the sofa, leaving Russ sitting with both elbows on his knees and his hands clasped in front of his mouth. She sent him a glare that said she wasn’t finished with him. Not by a long shot.

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