He was sure right about that. Mama was at their house fixing their supper at that very moment… like she did five nights a week, including every holiday. I wanted to say, “And you’re the one eating it.” But I didn’t say it. I might think something, but generally I try to keep my thoughts to myself.
“And she’s… nice,” he said, slurping the last bit of shake through his straw. “Much nicer than my mom.”
“That’s not true.” I disagreed with him, but I knew darn well he was right.
“Yes it is. Ruby’s much nicer to me than my own mother.” A tear welled up in his pretty blue eye. He rested his head back so I wouldn’t see it. Once a few seconds had passed he said, “I love your mother more than I do mine.”
I sat straight up, turned to face him. “William.That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Don’t say that.”
He turned his head slightly, cut his eyes my way. “She cares about me, Pearl. She actually takes the time to ask me questions—about stuff I’m interested in. Girls… my music. She even loves it when I sing for her.”
“My mama is kind like that.”
“So are you,” he said.
I smiled.
“You’re both kind. The other day, when I told Ruby I failed my math quiz, she didn’t get mad. She just said, ‘You’ll do better next time, baby.’ My dad grounded me for a week. Fucking asshole.”
I flinched at his language, but I felt bad for him at the same time. He was always worried about what he had to do to please his parents. He only played football because his dad made him. Truth is, he hated it. Hated every minute he had to be on that field, which was hardly ever. There was a permanent spot on the bench with his name on it. Yet every day he still had to show up for practice.
I reached out and touched him on the arm. “I’m sorry.”
“See, you are lucky.”
“I suppose I am.”
He put his empty cup into the holder between our seats. “Your mother feels like my real mother. I can’t remember a day when she wasn’t around. I’ve spent more time with her than my own mom.”
Hearing him say those words out loud caused a stinging in my chest, like a bee was trapped inside. My chin dipped. I couldn’t help it.
“What did I say?” I heard him ask with genuine concern.
I shook my head.
He reached over and gripped my hand, because William was the sensitive type. “Tell me. What did I say?”
I looked over at him. “You didn’t mean anything by it.”
“I… I know I didn’t. Please tell me what I said.”
I clutched the hem of my shirt, balled it up in the palm of my hand. “It’s just… I can remember lots of days when Mama wasn’t around.”
He threw his head back, banged it on the headrest several times. “I’m such an asshole. I never thought about it that way.”
“I know you didn’t. Don’t worry about it.”
Neither of us said anything for a long while. Then he started his car and we left the Cream Cup heading down University Avenue for his house. When we reached the intersection he stopped for the light. “Can we study at your house today?”
We had never studied at my house. William had never even been inside. “Why my house?”
“If we study there my dad won’t know you helped me. I want him to think I did it on my own.”
“Fine by me, but don’t expect much.” My house wasn’t much to look at compared to his and there certainly was no big TV.
