I WANDER DOWN TO THE CORNER STORE AND hang by the snack counter, hoping old Clem will take pity on me and give me a taste of something. He’s a softie, as long as you don’t take advantage and try to play him too often. A new-man day isn’t exactly special, but it’s the sort of thing that makes me want to treat myself.
Twenty minutes of sad eyes does the trick. Clem gives me a beef patty and a grape soda, which ought to keep my belly happy. No way to know what will happen about dinner, since Mama seems otherwise engaged. Then I walk a long figure eight around the blocks, chewing and sipping as I go. Could go to the park, I guess, but I just feel like walking and thinking. It’d help if I could remember Raheem’s exact work schedule for today and what time he’s likely to get home.
There’s a darkness to these buildings, even in daylight, but it stands out especially at sunset. Before the lights go on indoors and things begin to glow and it’s clear that the day is over. At dusk, the street takes on a restless insomnia, a heavy-lidded stumbling toward the night. The furtive underbelly of things, all pale and hairy, pokes through to the surface.
Mama tries hard to do right by us, but in the end she wants not to be alone. Raheem and I aren’t enough for her, it seems. Four is better, she told me once, but that isn’t always true. My real dad is never coming back, we’re pretty sure, and that’s the only thing that could ever put it right. I don’t get my hopes up anymore.
I like to stroll at this time of day, when everyone else wants to be in. Emmalee says I’m the sort of person who can’t be confined, which I like because it makes me sound larger than life. I’m only fourteen, but I’ve seen things, known them. I had a first kiss and a second one, felt a boy’s tongue against mine. Sam’s lips, all big and soft and curious. I know how nice it is to have someone’s hand to hold, instead of walking all alone. Can’t really blame Mama for wanting that.
No matter how much I want to, I can’t stay out all night. The sky gets dark and there always comes a moment when it’s time to go home. I think about going to stay at Emmalee’s instead, but you never really know what you’re gonna find there, either.
I slip through the door. He’s sitting on the couch, big as life. Mama lying with her head on his thigh. He’s skinny, looking like a stiff breeze off the lake would bend him in the middle. Salt-and-pepper hair, scrag of a beard. Wearing an undershirt over tan pants. Bare feet on the rug.
“My daughter,” she says to him as I enter. “Maxie, this is Wil.”
“Oh,” I say.
He returns my cool gaze with one of his own. “Nice to meet you, Maxie.”
He gets a point for actually saying my name, but that’s about all I can give him. I ignore the fact that he’s spoken to me, and retreat to my room for the night.