The Gun in Anansi's Web By Curtis Jamal Borum Jr

The Gun in Anansi's Web

By Curtis Jamal Borum Jr

"You know what a spider does when it's done spinning?"

Domevlo didn't answer. He was watching the road.

"It waits," his mother said. "Right in the center. Patient."

Cecelia drove with both hands on the wheel, her knuckles pale against the leather. The funeral flowers were still in the backseat. Herbert's obituary sat folded on the dashboard, his face smiling up at nothing.

"I'm sorry about Herbert," Domevlo said.

"Are you?"

He turned to look at her. This was a woman he'd met exactly once at a cookout seven years ago. Cecelia was somebody's cousin's girlfriend; at least that's what they'd told him. She had his same jaw line. He hadn't thought about it at the cookout.

"He's my fucking brother. What is that supposed to mean? Am I?" Domevlo scoffed. "Nigga please."

"Watch your language!" Cecelia huffed, her large belly gave way to the puff. "Dam it, you never seemed to care so, I'm just asking a question."

"I don't know when you ever had a chance to observe how much I care but yeah nigga." Domevlo exhaled sharply, "I am sorry my brother died."

She nodded slowly. Cecelia didn't believe him in the slightest.

The highway stretched out ahead, flat and gray.

-

Cecelia had picked Domevlo up from the bus station three hours ago. She'd been quiet most of the service. Quiet during the burial. Now the silence had a shape to it. One could see the air coiling in the vehicle but no one was smoking.

"Abiram told me you weren't in Georgia," she said.

"Abiram? My uncle? I don't discuss my whereabouts with Abiram.."

"He said you said you was here when Herbert died. Said three people saw you in the area at the time of his death."

"I don't like what you're insinuating about my brother. You don't come around all these years and you say some shit like that." Domevlo dragged a hand down his face. "Man, nigga, Abiram's a fucking liar."

"Domevlo you know it's your fault I never came around. You know you had problems with Herbert!" Cecelia tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "The fact that you're acting like you didn't lets me know everything I need to know about you!" Cecelia's forehead was beginning to sweat. "Abiram is your uncle, how can you call him a liar, after all he has done for you?"

"I know?" Domevlo laughed mockingly

"Yeah, you know what you did." Cecelia countered.

"You say these things like you know anything about me Cecelia. You don't know I had a ex-fiancée. You don't know me and Herbert was trying to get out of the hood and make it to Vegas." Domevlo tapped his foot against the floorboard, jaw clenched.

"You’re fucking lying Domevlo." Cecelia was laughing behind her words.

Domevlo ignored her and continued, "Herbert was too caught up in the drugs to make it out there with me. He would go off on tangents like you just did; saying what I know." His foot was tapping on the passenger seat floor mat.

"Domevlo you have some type of nerves coming here." Cecelia snorted still laughing.

Domevlo shook his head. "Come on now O.G. You can't be serious with this bull.”

"You fucked up. Abiram and them told me about your lies. Domevlo you anit nothing but a liar." Cecelia laughed like she was at a comedy show. "You never even had a girlfriend let alone a fiancée. And you always hated Herbert Cecelia cause he had me."

"Listen Cecelia. My ex is very beautiful I don't appreciate you reducing what we had to laughter."

"What do you care what I reduce her too. She’s your ex and I'm your mother?"

"I care because she flew out to Vegas and cheated on her husband with me. I'm your son, but you care nothing to know about what I do with my life. You take information third hand." Domevlo growled.

Cecelia shook her head, exhaling sharply through her nose. "You know what Domevlo…”

"Listen broad I'll tell you what you need to know. Abiram is one of those Jehovah's Witness types that shuns family with lies." Domevlo shifted in his seat. "My beautiful ex, she knows where I was. I got receipts on my phone. Hotels, etc...."

"The only thing I'm hearing is you and your so-called ex creating an alibi. Receipts can be..."

"You know what nigga, you can shut up with that shit." His voice dropped. "Don't you do that."

Cecelia was quiet for a moment. She leaned forward slightly, eyes locked on the road ahead. Outside, a hawk circled something on the shoulder of the road, patient and wide-winged.

"Abiram and them told me other things," Cecelia's voice was cold.

"Aw man I can't wait to hear this shit."

"They can't find her, but they know about that woman and how you made your son. You're a fucking rapist."

"They know about my kid but they can't find her? Plot hole dumb ass!" Domevlo pressed his back into the seat.

"Tony's mother keeps him. I send what I can. And that's all you need to know. I'm not going to sit here and..." He stopped. Started again. "This is interesting. What else did they tell you?"

"That you hit women. Just by the way you're calling me dumbass I know that's true."

"Aw yeah, dumb ass! Stop being one. Herbert has five domestics. Come on now nigga you're saying this shit but I don't beat women." Domevlo shook his head.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Cecelia?" He laughed.

"Leave Herbert out of this, he's a better man than you. Don't turn this shit back on me because I know that you..."

"No. No. No! You're way off base!"

Cecelia's jaw tightened. "A mother has to believe something. And I always knew you weren't shit!"

"Well, that's fine with me. I got a daddy! You believed them and never even checked with me." Domevlo shook his head.

"They are more credible than you!" Cecelia spat.

"You chose people of my blood over me and every single day I was alive, you never knew I don't fuck with them?" He wasn't shouting.

"You're very disrespectful Domevlo. We caught you. I know what they showed me."

"My daddy showed me buildings he built all the time. He showed me the craft during construction and once he finished. You look at what they built."

Domevlo looked at Cecelia sideways. "I have a cousin named Genesis who rapes his mother. Ask Abiram about his son. Ask him what Genesis does to Yevette when his house gets quiet."

Cecelia's hands moved on the wheel.

"Ask him," Domevlo said softly. "Ask Abiram how he got his sister Yevette pregnant."

-

Cecelia pulled off at an exit Domevlo didn't recognize. Gravel road. Trees pressing in.

"Why are we..."

"I need to say something to you."

"So say it on the highway. Take me back to the bus station."

"Domevlo." She said his name like she was learning it. "I think you set that fire."

"Come on now Cecelia. Herbert broke into that garage for shelter! He was high on his drug of choice and he set the fire to stay warm!"

"You killed my son. Your fucking brother!"

"Well, Mom, I see I have to get the fuck away from you. You got me fucked up and you're about to play with me." Domevlo looked around the wooded tree line planning his trip back to civilization.

"I'm not finished! Wait until I’m done talking to you!"

"You're finished. I'm calling a cab." He reached for the door handle. That's when he saw her hand move toward the center console.

"Don't do it bitch!"

The word surprised them both. First time he'd ever said it to a woman. Maybe last.

She had the gun halfway up when he grabbed her wrist. She was stronger than she looked. They struggled in the cab of that car, the obituary sliding off the dashboard, Herbert's face falling to the floor.

The gun came free in her hands and into his.

Domevlo, was out the door before she could reach him. Cecelia tried to run him over with her car but he ran into the tree line. Not looking back.

He didn't look back.

-

Abiram's barbershop smelled like clove oil and booty juice. Dust packed into the corner surfaces. Decades old hair under the counters. The shop had not seen a good wipe down since 1987. It looked more like a drug din then barber shop.

Abiram was in the back. Old now. Kidneys failing slowly. The kind of dying that gives you time to think. Somehow Abiram wasted that time, his mind gave way to religious cults and pedophilia

"Close the shop," Domevlo said.

Abiram looked at him. Looked at the door. Looked back.

"Close it."

Abiram did as Domevlo asked smiling.

-

"You gave Cecelia my number."

"Cecelia? She's your mother. Why don't you show respect boy?"

"Nigga please me with respect. Yo Jehovah worshiping ass told her I killed my brother."

"I do as Jehovah's organization asked me to do so, I told her what I knew."

"You told her what you thought you built. You never had the skills to be a carpenter like my daddy." Domevlo set his hands flat on the counter.

"Domevlo your always talking nonsense that's the biggest proof you did it!" Abiram was smiling.

"Nonsense? You could barely install a window. They kicked yo black ass out of the labor union. That's why yo black ass couldn't build my death!"

Abiram laughed.

"Thats all you can do Abiram. You and your whole congregation of liars are a fucked up in the head man. Turning my mother against me before I was old enough to defend myself." Domevlo exhaled sharply.

Abiram picked up a comb. Put it down.

"You know what Genesis does to Yevette," Domevlo said.

Silence.

"Say it."

"That's family business Domevlo. You should have learned never to bring that up."

"I am family. Herbert was family. But you sat with my mother." His voice broke just slightly, "first time in my life I meet that woman and you had her believing I killed my brother."

Abiram looked at his own hands.

"I did what Jehovah's organization asked me to do. See that is your problem, Domevlo. You live to do what you want to do instead of living with what God wants you to do. That's why your brother is dead."

"No. You did what served you." Domevlo leaned forward. "You are the spider, old man. You've been sitting in the center this whole time. Watching all of us move, manipulating for yourself and for your cult."

Abiram stood very slowly. The way old men do when they've decided something. "Son if you came here to disrespect Jehovah then you shouldn't have come here. You have to accept responsibility for what you did to your brother."

"I'm not your son."

The gun came from beneath the counter. Old, like everything else in the shop. And Domevlo moved; not thinking, he tangled himself with Abiram. The shot rang out.

The hawk outside circled over the barbershop.

It just kept circling.

-

In the Akan tradition, Anansi the spider god does not simply tell stories; he owns them. He collects them. Every story ever told belongs to him. The question is never whether the web exists. The question is who is at the center, and who only believes they are free.