 Dreamscape Presents, Being Clem, by Lisa Klein Ransom, narrated by Deon Graham. 1. There's 2,341 miles from Chicago to the San Francisco Bay. And even if you happen to catch a ride in one of those 44 Silver Streak Pontiacs with the shiny front grills that look like big old teeth smiling back at you and drove as fast as the wind, it'd still take you about a week to get there. 2,341 miles is a lot of miles. But it ain't so far when an explosion that happens in San Francisco, California lands right smack dab in your lap here in Chicago. I was sleeping good when that explosion happened. I heard loud knocking on the front door and mama's tired voice asking, Who's that? I sat up in my bed knowing there was no way company could be knocking on our door before mama even called us in for breakfast. And then I heard her slippers scraping toward the door. Just as soon as mama unhooked the chain and undid the bolt, all I heard after that was the screaming. Soft spoken is how most folks describe my mama. She speaks her mind, don't hold back on the truth, but she's just as quiet as can be. Before that night, I never so much as heard her raise her voice, let alone scream. But there she was, shouting like she was broken in two. By the time I hopped from my bed and made it to the front room where all the screaming was coming from, my sisters were already there. Plus two men I'd never seen before, dressed just alike, holding their hats in their hands. They looked like the picture of my daddy my mama kept in a frame, hanging over our kitchen table. Soldiers. They were holding up my mama by her arms. A piece of crumpled up paper was lying on the floor in front of her. Her head was rolling from side to side. Clarice, my oldest sister, put her hand out to stop me. Going back to bed, clam, she said, staring at mama. But even she didn't sound like her usual mean self, so I stood there behind her watching our mama. It looked like her legs stopped working the way the soldiers had to hold her up. Get her some water, son. One of them said to me that I was too afraid to move. I heard the water running in the faucet behind me and it was my other sister, Annette, filling up a glass. She brought it to the soldier and he tried to get my mama to drink. Annette stood on the other side of me, close. Mama stopped screaming, but her head was still rolling from side to side. Clarice stepped away from me toward the soldiers. We never had white folks in our house before and these soldiers looked funny standing here in our living room holding up our mama. Do you have anyone you can ask to come over and sit with your mama till she's feeling better? The soldier asked. But looking at mama with her head rolling every which way, I didn't think my mama would... Sample complete. Ready to continue?