Sobbing, Mama had crawled to Bobby Ray and gathered him in her arms. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. How bad did he hurt you?” When she tipped his chin up, she cried harder. She told him to tell his teacher he’d fallen down the stairs by accident. “I don’t want CPS coming to take you away from me. We’d never see each other again.” The thought of being taken away from his mother had scared Bobby Ray more than the man who’d hurt him and Mama.
Bobby Ray heard angry voices in the street below. Mama had told him never to look out because you never knew when people might start shooting. “Stay down and safe, baby.” Two men shouted. Glass shattered.
Mama’s friend started talking in the bedroom. Mama laughed. “It’s no big deal. Lie down, honey. We were having such a good time. . . .” The man said he had to go. People might wonder where he was. More conversation, quieter now. The bedroom door opened, and the man came out, half-dressed. Mama followed in her pink robe. “Well, if you gotta go, you gotta go.” She flipped a switch, flooding the room with light.
Mama’s friend had black shiny shoes and nice dark slacks, a glossy leather belt. He fumbled at the buttons on his white shirt. Catching Bobby Ray looking at him, he blushed deep red. “Sorry, kid.” The apology made Bobby Ray feel the hard punch of wrongness in everything about Mama’s life.
Mama held the jacket for the man to slip on. When he had trouble with his tie, Mama brushed his hands away. “Let me do it for you.” She pouted prettily. “Fifty bucks doesn’t go very far these days. I barely make rent, and I have a growing boy to feed.” The man’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressing tight. Mama sighed as she dusted his lapels. She stepped back. “What’d you have for dinner tonight, Bobby Ray?”
“Cheerios.”
“And you drank the last of the milk two days ago, didn’t you, baby? I’m sorry. Mama’s doing the best she can.”
“Don’t you get welfare?”
“Rent’s higher in the Tenderloin than in Wichita. But you’d know that, considering the hotel you’re staying in for your conference.”
The man gave Bobby Ray an embarrassed look and pulled out his wallet. Bobby Ray noticed the gold ring on his finger as he chose some bills and thrust them into Mama’s outstretched palm. She kept her hand out, and he added one more before folding his wallet and tucking it away. He didn’t look happy. Mama smiled. “You have a good heart.” She sounded sincere. She went to the door, removed the chain, turned the two dead bolts, and opened it. “Be careful out there. You’re not in Kansas anymore.” She gave a soft laugh, as though she’d told a joke.
The man looked unsettled. “I left my rental car near the club. I was a little drunk. How do I get back?”
“Turn left, go two blocks, turn right. You’ll see the light.” Mama closed the door in his face. She turned both dead bolts and put the chain on again. Her smile died along with any hint of pleasure as she picked up the shoulder bag she’d tossed on the old orange recliner. She shoved the money into it and dropped it again. Yawning widely, she rubbed her back. “I need a long, hot shower. And then I’m going to sleep until noon.” She leaned down and kissed Bobby Ray. “You get yourself up and ready for school, sweetie.” She went into the bathroom.
Bobby Ray did what he had to do. He stole a twenty-dollar bill from Mama’s purse.
As soon as school let out, Bobby Ray headed for CVS and pushed a cart bigger than him up and down the aisles. Everything cost so much! He decided on a jar of Smucker’s Goober peanut butter and grape jelly stripes, a loaf of Wonder Bread, a box of twelve crayons, a package of four Ticonderoga pencils with a small sharpener, and a lined notebook on sale for a dollar. Maybe Mama had gone shopping with the rest of the money the man had given her last night. Maybe there’d be milk in the refrigerator and cereal in the cabinet.
Mama was up and dressed for bear, as she put it. She was happy, too, which meant she had another supply of white powder. “So what did you buy with the twenty bucks you took, baby?” She took the plastic bag from him and emptied it on the table while Bobby Ray looked in the refrigerator. No milk. “Sorry, honey. I haven’t had time to go shopping. I had to make myself presentable. Tell you what! I’ll find some nice man to take me to dinner at a fancy restaurant and bring you a doggie bag.” She laughed. “Alioto’s! How’s that sound? Or the Franciscan! I’ll order lobster!”
“You want a sandwich, Mama?” Bobby Ray didn’t want her to leave. “I’ll make it for you.” When she was happy like this, she stayed out all night.
“No, baby. That’s all for you.” She looped her large bag over her shoulder and headed out. “Lock the door after I leave.”
Bobby Ray hated it when his mother left high and happy. The last time she did, when she came back, she’d cried all the next day and had to put on lots of makeup to cover bruises before going to work at the club. “Don’t go. Please?” His lip quivered, and he let the tears come, hoping they’d make a difference.
Mama came back, anguished. “Oh, honey, you know I’ve gotta go. Mama does so much better when she’s had something to help. You know? I’m doing the best I can. Sometimes I . . .” She shook her head, her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that, Bobby Ray.” She leaned down and cupped his face. “You know I love you more than anything in this whole world. I’m gonna take good care of you, baby. You wait and see.”
“Mama . . .” He hugged her tightly. She was soft and smelled of sweet perfume. He clung to her like ivy on a brick wall.
“Let go.” Mama pried his arms loose and held him firmly at arm’s length. “Stop it right now! You know I’m gonna come back. Don’t I always? Now be good. Stay inside. Lock the door. You can watch TV as late as you want.” She left without looking back again.
Bobby Ray went to the window and tried to open it. He fought the latch, but it wouldn’t budge. Mama appeared on the street below. He knocked on the glass, but she didn’t look up. She walked like she knew exactly where she was going. He wished he knew where that was.
He opened the box of pristine crayons and drew on a page of newsprint. He ate a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. When the sun went down, he watched TV. Worried, he dragged a kitchen chair to the window and sat watching for Mama to come home. The neon sign came on across the street. He wondered who Jesus was. Mama said her daddy had been religious and tried to beat hell out of her. Bobby Ray made a pillow of his arms and focused on the beauty of those intense, rich colors.
Boyish laughter awakened him. A teenager dressed in black was spray-painting the wall across the street. Another was standing guard at the corner. Bobby Ray listened and watched as the painter opened a backpack and pulled out another can, yellow this time, green the next. The lookout motioned him to hurry up. The painter worked fast, making large bubble letters. Bobby Ray was enthralled. The teen at the corner whistled. The painter stashed his spray paint, shouldered his bag, and disappeared around the corner just as a police car came to the intersection. The squad car paused, a beam of light searching and finding the newly painted wall. The police car turned in the direction the boys had run, the beam of light waving from one side of the street to the other.
Giving up his vigil, Bobby Ray climbed into the bed he shared with Mama. He curled into a ball on Mama’s side. She’d wake him up when she got home. Maybe she’d bring another man home with her, a nice one like the last, one willing to hand over an extra twenty. He slept fitfully.
Mama still wasn’t home the next morning. Bobby Ray didn’t know whether to go to school or wait. Scared and angry, he grabbed his books and headed down the stairs.
Mr. Salvaggio came out of his apartment looking like a pumpkin in his Giants sweatshirt. “Hey! Where’s that mother of yours? She owes me rent!” Bobby Ray darted around him. “Hey! I’m talking to you, kid!” Mr. Salvaggio made a swipe for him, but Bobby Ray ran quick as a rat for the front door.