Mister gets in his truck after his six-hour hike in the desert. He is tired from the walking and the thinking and the hoping and the arguing with demons. He is spent from the heat of the sun. But he likes this tiredness, and he knows that tonight his sleep will be deep and rich.
He turns the engine over and feels the heat of the air conditioner. He sits in the hot truck, the door open, sweat pouring down his face. Slowly, the air conditioner starts to do its work. He loves the way the coolness feels on his damp skin. He’s decided to buy Vicente a new shirt. A token. He wants to give him something. Anything will do—he’s settled on a shirt.
He drives to a department store and walks into the children’s clothing section. He looks at the shirts for little boys. He eyes the shirts, to see if they are Vicente’s size. The size fours seem like they will fit him perfectly. There are so many shirts. So many, many shirts. He himself does not spend much money on clothing. He has what he needs. He prefers to buy art and books. He prefers to buy things for Liz.
As he studies the small shirts, he smiles at the thought that he, too, had once been this size. He remembers his father letting him pick out his own clothes. Grace had never let him do that. Sometimes she would come home and announce, “I’ve bought you this shirt,” or “Mister, I’ve bought you this pair of pants.” She would hand the article of clothing to him, and he would smile. He would thank her and kiss her. He lived with her choices, even when he didn’t like what she’d chosen. She had been thinking of him—that was what had mattered. When had things between them grown more complicated?
He suddenly feels Vicente’s hands on his face, and he shudders at the thought. The awesome beauty and burden of it. He feels the material of the shirts with his fingers. That was the only way Vicente would come to know the shirt, through the feel of it. He would buy the shirt that had the kindest feel to it. He feels shirt after shirt. He finally finds a shirt that is soft and giving. He takes it from the rack and studies it. He takes out his cell and calls Liz. He smiles when he hears her voice. “How was your hike?”
“Good. Great. Guess where I am?”
“Tell me.”
“I’m buying a shirt.”
“A shirt?”
“Yeah. For our son.” He laughs. “I’m crazy about you.”