Mom was calling my name and saying I was leaving too much lint on the glass. The whole kitchen smelled like vinegar as the three of us wiped the cabinets.
I laid down my rag and picked up the bowl sitting on top of the counter. An image of it holding macaroni salad flashed into my mind. “Sal? Where’d you get this bowl?”
“I got it from Amos.”
“When his folks came, they said you didn’t. Remember?”
“Maybe it was his mother’s.” Mom took the bowl from me and looked it over herself. “Is that where ya got it, honey, your mom?”
“He don’t have a mom. He said so himself. Ain’t that right, Sal?”
He slowly nodded while Mom set the bowl down with a sigh and leaned back against the counter, staring at the pantry. Her eyes caught on the can of Crown Prince Sardines. She smiled as if it were her best idea ever as she grabbed the can and pulled its lid off. She warned Sal not to move as she began to place the sardines on top of his head.
“What are you doing?” He smiled. To him life could get no better.
“I’m makin’ you a crown because you are a prince and your momma is a beautiful queen who loves you more than you’ll ever know.”
After she laid the last sardine down, she set the can on top of the counter and stepped back to see Sal in full. “Yes, you are a prince.”
“The Prince of Darkness?” He looked afraid she would call him devil.
“My dear, sweet boy, you could never be anything but the Prince of Light.”
“I wish you were my mother.” Sal’s whisper seemed to echo off the walls.
“Oh, my darlin’.” The sardines fell to the floor as she grabbed him into her and held him tight. “I can be her for as long as you need me to, my dear, sweet love.”
He deserved to have a mother hold him like that, and yet I found myself not wanting it to be my mother. As if by embracing him she put herself in danger. For a moment I allowed myself to believe Elohim. That Sal’s feet clacked like cloven hooves across the ground. That he was the forked tongue, the red demon, hell every day of the week. Something to keep back behind a chain-link fence. Away from hearth and home. Away from those you love the most.
“I don’t know why you’d wanna thief for a son.”
Mom gave me one of her looks, told me to just hush now.
“What?” I shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious he stole that bowl and spoon from somewhere.”
“Oh, he didn’t steal anything.” She let go of Sal and he hated me for being the reason.
As she began to pick up the sardines with heavy sighs, I kept at it.
“If he didn’t steal ’em, where’d he get ’em? Hmm, Sal?”
“I can’t remember.” His anger was making a shadow of him, a sort of cold draft coming in under the door.
“You’re lyin’. You’re a lyin’ thief.”
“I’m not a thief.” He glared at me as if he could light me up. I believe he might’ve if Mom hadn’t been there to be disappointed in him for doing so.
I was in his path to the counter, so he gave me a hard shove to the side as he quickly grabbed the bowl and spoon, running from the kitchen with them.
“I don’t know why ya had to go and start somethin’, Fielding. Go after him.” Mom shooed me out.
From the back porch, I saw him running up the hill, into the woods. I called his name and took chase. He seemed to run forever. The hills like his own rising world. Maybe he was a prince, and he was running away to his castle. Could I follow him there? Could I keep running after the wild ruler to his kingdom, where a crown of sardines was enough?
He ran faster than me, and I struggled with what I saw. Was it a boy ahead? Or a flame burning through the land, starting quiet fires only we knew?
It was no kingdom, but the train tracks he finally stopped at.
“Why’d you follow me, Fielding?” He caught his breath like a true boy who had just run too far too fast.
I think he’d been crying, but there was too much sweat to see the difference.
“Sal, about what I said back at the house. I was bein’ stupid. I’ve just been pissed off lately. You know, with Grand and everything. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
After all, that was really what my outburst was about, wasn’t it? Seeing my mother and Sal embrace so easily. The way I wanted to hold and be held by Grand. The raw strength of that very thing, revealing something of us. In the best hope, something like pretty honey drizzling from the crooks of our elbows while we apologize and say it was all play in the hills and nothing has changed. But, of course, over and over again, everything has changed.
“Sal? I said I’m sorry.”
He looked down at the bowl and spoon still in his hands. “I really don’t remember where I got them from. But I could make up a story. Let’s imagine that you, you’re a boy—”
“I am a boy.”
“And you’re walking down the railroad tracks. Go on, walk down them.”
I stepped over on top of the tracks and, although feeling a bit foolish, began walking in place. I figured I owed it to him for starting the fight.