Levi didn’t notice the ruckus at first; he was distracted by his mother. Naomi. The only person who would dare call and ask for a favor at three in the morning on a Sunday. He sat on the stool behind the counter of the store, feet propped up on the shelf just underneath, phone in hand. He picked at one of hundreds of stickers on the counter, doing his best to distract himself from the same tedious conversation. Flickering shadows danced over the ancient formica countertop from the shuddering fluorescent lights overhead, giving the whole place a nineties horror movie vibe that Levi had grown accustomed to over the years.
Nights like tonight, his life seemed like a horror movie, the hum of the coolers, the soundtrack. Some nightmarish version ofGroundhog Daywhere he was destined to have the same pathetic conversation again and again with the scent of overcooked hot dogs and stale coffee in his nose.
“Are you even listening?” Naomi slurred, words so sloppy he only understood them because he’d heard them before.
She had forsaken the English language decades ago for some borderline incomprehensible hybrid speech that the average person couldn’t parse together with even the best translation app. But, unfortunately for Levi, he was an expert. Not that he had any choice. He’d been taking care of Naomi since he was barely old enough to take care of himself. “I can’t talk. I’m at work. Call me tomorrow. When you’re sober.”
Naomi couldn’t do that—Naomi was never sober—and they both knew it. She was either getting drunk, already drunk, or unconscious. Levi had hoped, at this time of the morning, she’d have succumbed to option three and he could have had a bit of peace for the last two hours of his shift, but she always seemed to know just how to ruin his night.
“I’m perfect’y saw-saw-so-ber,” she finally managed just as something on her end hit the floor. It wasn’t heavy enough to be her body, so he ignored it. He even contemplated hanging up. Nothing good came from talking to her when she was this far gone.
“Naomi—”
“That’s the problem,” she said, cutting him off. “I jus’ need you to bring some beer on your way home from work and drop it by the house. You get off soon, right?”
Levi rolled his eyes. She couldn’t remember his birthday, his graduation, or Christmas, but, somehow, she had his work schedule memorized.
He didn’t want to bring her booze, he wanted to go home and get some sleep. But what he wanted didn’t matter. She had passed the point of no return long ago. She couldn’t function without alcohol. Literally. She sweated beer. If she didn’t wake up and drink in the middle of the night, she’d have a seizure. After years of abuse, her body needed alcohol like most people needed water. If she didn’t get it, she would fall into a coma anddie. Part of him wished he could just let that happen. Maybe they’d both be better for it.
He sighed, pushing dark hair from his forehead only for it to flop into his eyes once more. “I’ll stop by tomorrow?—”
“Oh, thank you, baby,” she crooned.
“—afternoon,” he finished. “After I wake up. You’ll be fine until then.”
She always had more booze stashed somewhere. She would never let herself run completely out before calling him.
He started counting to ten, waiting for his words to penetrate the fog of her inebriation. He reached seven before she started shouting, “You ungrateful little shit. I fed you. I clothed you. I worked day and night to take care of you. Not your father.Me. You’re such a big fucking mistake. I should have ab?—”
“Night, Mom,” he said, cutting off her rant before she really got started.
He hung up, then put his phone on silent.
He only called her Mom when she was re-writing history. In her beer-soaked brain, she’d been mother of the year. She had given him clothes and food and a roof over his head. But none of that was true. The clothes had been hand-me-downs from neighbors who took pity on him. The food was from the church or stolen or, sometimes, even straight from the dumpsters behind restaurants and supermarkets. She had kept a roof over his head, he’d give her that, but he’d paid the rent with his pain and suffering.
But she’d never admit to that.
He shook his head and sighed. Her words didn’t even hurt anymore. He was numb to them. He’d spent years wondering what he’d done wrong, why she hated him, what he could alter about himself to make her love him. Then he met Jericho and his perspective changed. He understood what a real parent was like, even though Jericho was practically a kid himself. After that, heno longer yearned for a mom who would bake for him and kiss his forehead and read him bedtime stories.
Now, he just wanted her to die.
Except, he didn’t. Not really. If he did, he would just ignore her. He wouldn’t spend what little money he had on food for her or booze or anything else she needed to survive in that tiny, dirty apartment she called home.
He dropped his phone on the counter with more force than necessary, watching it slide towards the edge precariously then stop just before toppling over.
He rubbed his face with both hands. Two more hours. He just had to make it through two more hours and then he could go home and sleep and game. There was still a battle they had to win and their schedules would finally sync up this afternoon. He didn’t have class until two on Tuesday and he’d finished his project last week. That meant he could stream and maybe make some extra cash playingPaladinwith his friends.
A smile played at his lips as he thought about his bed. He longed for a deep, dreamless sleep. It had been so long.
He was fantasizing about that sleep when his gaze slid out the window, catching on movement outside. He frowned. It was usually a ghost town by this time with only the occasional night crawler wandering around, usually in search of drugs or sex. But tonight, there were two people just outside his store, perfectly framed between the ATM sign and the Pepsi ad.
Though the lighting inside was terrible, outside was searchlight-bright and the two were dead center, like the leads in a play, the sidewalk their stage. They were facing each other, leaving Levi with only their profiles. The smaller guy had soft-looking brown curls and a perfect jawline. Even without seeing his whole face, Levi knew he was probably very pretty.
The other man was not.
Well, looks-wise, Levi supposed he was conventionally attractive, but his personality was ugly. He was shoving at the other boy, poking him in the chest, yelling and gesturing towards the double doors of the store.
Levi watched, transfixed, as the pretty boy frantically shook his head, his features twisting into what looked like some kind of plea even from Levi’s limited view. His words clearly fell on deaf ears. The man grabbed him by his oversized yellow hoodie then slapped him hard across the face once, then again, the second blow landing hard enough to wrench the boy’s head to the side, causing Levi’s gaze to crash into his.
