RAHEEM THUMPS IN THE DOOR, CARRYING a flat plastic-wrapped box. The scent of tomatoes and garlic curls around my nose.
“I scored a send-back,” Raheem says. I grin, because the timing of the treat could not be more perfect.
“Hmmnnn.” Mama rolls over on the couch, planting her face in the cushion.
“Cool.” It’s all I can do not to run and grab it out of his hands. My stomach is so cramped. I uncurl my legs and slide toward the table. Set out plates, napkins, forks.
Raheem opens the box, and the smell is overwhelming. I lean my face into it. “Oh, yeah.”
“Let’s dig in,” he says.
Mama’s pretty well zonked on the couch. All the more pizza for us, I figure. We settle into it, and after a few minutes of no sound but us devouring slice after slice, Raheem extracts a small white bakery sack from his bag. He smiles proudly and pulls out a strawberry cupcake, which he lays in front of me.
“What’s the occasion?” I say, smiling slyly.
Raheem grins. “I’m not a total doofus,” he says. “I remember when it’s your birthday.”
“Happy birthday, Maxie.” Raheem hands me a package wrapped in week-old Panther newspaper. It’s large. I have to hold it with both hands and it flexes beneath its own weight.
“Wow.” The package is bigger than my lap, drooping over my knees. I hold it there, trying to remember if I ever opened a present this size before.
“What are you waiting for?” Raheem nudges me. “Open it.”
I tear into the paper, which is wrapped triple thick. My fingers brush buttery fabric and my heart rises. But I don’t let it leap. Not yet. My excitement hangs suspended; I need to actually see it before I can believe in what I feel.
I shove the paper back, and sure enough, it’s real. I pull it out and hold it up. A Panther leather jacket. One of my very own.
“Raheem,” I gasp. The jacket is beautiful. It shines in the lamplight. Three buttons. A hemline that’ll fall to my hips. Horizontal pockets at the waist. Rounded-smooth lapels. Seam lines under the arms, around the waist, and down the middle of the back.
“Oh, Raheem.” My eyes are dazzled by the coat, but I drag my gaze to him. He’s smiling softly, watching me. “How long can I keep it?”
His face tightens. “It’s yours.”
“Really?” It’s too hard to believe. “How?”
“The usual way.”
All I can do is stare at him.
“I bought it for you, Maxie.”
“We can’t afford this,” I whisper.
“My problem, not yours,” Raheem says.
“I don’t want to be a problem.” I want the jacket desperately. But I don’t want to be a burden.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
I fold the coat on my lap. “Raheem—”
“I got it cheap, okay?” he admits. “Jesus, Maxie. Just take the gift. You gotta learn to be polite.”
I can’t help being curious. And I sure as heck can’t help my big old mouth. “I’m sorry,” I say. “I just can’t believe it’s really mine forever.”
Raheem nods. He gets it.
I hug it to me one last time before I put it on. My arms slide in and it fits like it was tailor-made for me. “Wow.”
“Looks good on you,” Raheem says.
I run to the bathroom mirror. I can barely believe my eyes.