“Look, don’t get mad. I’m tired. I came straight from the shop.” Henry reached for his wallet in his back pocket, the tight fit of his jeans and his position behind the wheel making him squirm to reach it. He lifted his hips to get a better hold. He knew he looked ridiculous but he couldn’t quit.
“Stop struggling, Henry. Just get out of the car.” Carrie knew as soon as she said for Henry to do the most obvious logical thing there was no way he would do it.
“Maybe I don’t want to get out the car. I don’t have to.” He gripped the wallet pinched it with his two fingers until he squeezed it out of the tight pocket. “Dammit!” he said and tried again.
Carrie tried not to watch Henry wrestle with his pants. He would get that wallet his own way or die. He lifted two tens and handed them to Carrie. He didn’t want her to see that there were only three or four ones still left in the leather folds. “Give this to Zeke and tell him I’ll come on Thursday okay? We’re only working three days this week.”
“You give it to him. Come here and give it to him.”
“Why can’t you just do it,” Henry said, but he was aware he sounded whiny. “I’m not asking for much.”
“If I take this,” Carrie began, she hated making him promise like they were children themselves. “You promise you’ll come. You promise?”
“Why don’t you let Zeke stay home? How much can they do in kindergarten? I’ll take him to the park. We’ll spend the whole day.”
“He needs to go to school. Just get in a few hours with him before we start talking about the whole day.” Carrie sighed hard and rolled her apron between her hands. “I’m tired too. Bethany had a birthday party for Sam, and Zeke didn’t get invited.”
“She’s a bitch.”
“Don’t call her that.”
“You know it.” Henry held his mouth with his hand until the terrible sensation to cry washed over him. Maybe Carrie didn’t see. He couldn’t stand it if she saw that. “Do you want me to come?”
“I shouldn’t have told you.” Carrie sighed and reached for the door handle; the smooth handle cool in her hand, a different temperature and texture than she had expected. She faced Henry. “Why can’t you understand this?” She hadn’t wanted to scream, but as soon as she pulled up her anger it dissolved. Their time together was so short that she didn’t want to waste it. It occurred to Carrie that Henry probably never made that kind of emotional adjustment for her, he wouldn’t even think of it. Carrie tried to calm herself, but she could feel the emotion rising in her chest. She would not cry. “She’s my sister, Henry. Do you understand any of that? She’s not a stranger or some girl I work with. She’s the only family I’ve got speaking to me.” Carries stifled the urge to shake Henry’s shoulders. “She the best one out of all of them. You know that.”
“You see how good she is, don’t you?” Henry asked, but Carrie could see the doubt on his face.
“Why do you make this harder for me?”
“I can’t help it your people are racists.”
Carrie shook her head. “I could throw up. You know that? That’s how sick I am.”
“Ah shit, Carrie. Why are we going to do this now?”
“You aren’t being for real. I know you understand.”
“All they know is who they think I am.”
“She said she couldn’t have Mama and me in the same place. She always used to invite us to everything. Where does that leave me, Henry? You know what it feels like not to have any family?”
Henry shook his head. He did know. His father was as good as dead. His brother locked up. The mother who loved him, the one person he could say that about with full confidence, was long dead. He couldn’t make himself think about Ava right now. Yes, he understood being alone. He knew very well. Henry stopped before he held his head in his hands the way he craved. “Does Zeke know?”
“Know what?”
“About the party? Any of it.”
“I don’t think so, but kids see things. They put it together. You know that.” Carrie was embarrassed not to have considered that her son might know about the situation. He had not asked her anything, but kids know things.
“I will beat the shit out of other kids,” Henry said.
“You make me sick.” Carrie laughed. “You suck.” Carrie punched Henry lightly in his arm.
“I can beat just about any five-year-old in the world.”
“Probably so.”
“Probably! That’s cold. You don’t think I could beat a toddler? I’m not much of a man am I?” Henry laughed. Carrie hesitated but let a laugh escape too. Henry could tell the air in the car had grown stale again and one wrong word would ruin the calm moment they’d just found.
“I’ll bring something. I’ll be here right after school,” Henry said and held Carrie’s two hands between his.
“Okay, Henry. He’ll be so excited.”
“Don’t make me feel bad. I told you I’d be there.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad.” Carrie sighed.
Henry looked out the window at the restaurant, not sure what to say but not wanting to say the wrong things again. “Did you ever think we’d be living like this?” Carrie said.
Henry looked into Carrie’s light brown eyes, at her romantic face, with its turned-down mouth. “We aren’t going to start this. Let’s don’t start. Please. Okay?”
“You have ideas about your life. This is it?” Carrie snorted.
“I can’t do this today.” Henry made coffee in the morning on his break. He poured coffee into the Styrofoam cup, tore three packets of sugar, and let the particles swirl into the mix. It could have been any one of a hundred days. A thousand days dissolving in front of his eyes. “Did I ever tell you about my Uncle Buddy? Big guy. He used to love this place.”
“Why are you talking about him? Is that why you’re sad?”
“Don’t make everything mean something. I just got reminded of him. He was funny. If it wasn’t about you, he was funny.” Uncle Buddy made fun of everyone. Don’t have stuck-out ears or fat or a turned-out toe in front of Buddy. But he’d never found anything to say about Henry. With him he was gentle, like he sensed the soft center of Henry. “He fed us. He’d bring us barbecue from here long time ago.”
“What made you think of him?”
“I don’t know. He was a good old dude.”
“I was going to say maybe you need to see him. Maybe that would make you feel better?”
“I’m fine, Carrie.”