When the light turned, he headed straight instead of taking a left toward home. Once we pulled in our drive, he took his keys out and set them on the gearshift. “You sure about this?”
I nudged his shoulder. “You scared or something?”
“Heck no.”
“Then get out of your car and come inside.”
He grabbed his backpack from the back seat and closed the door behind him.
When I opened our front door, I watched his eyes roam around the living room: at our family photos on the walls, our living room suite, our small dining room table. I showed him around, then one minute later we ended up in the kitchen. A tour of our home did not take long. Right away, his eyes darted to the front of our fridge, to a picture that had been hanging there for years. I’d looked at it so long I’d forgotten where it came from.
He lifted it off the fridge and studied it thoroughly. A drawing of what was most definitely his house with a lady, her skin crayon colored in brown, standing in the doorway.To Ruby, I Love You, William.“I can’t believe your mom kept this. I don’t remember drawing it.” He looked over at me.
“She keeps everything. Don’t open our closets. You’ll be taking your life in your own hands.”
He smiled, put the picture back where it was—underneath the teakettle magnet—and straightened it. “Do y’all have anything to eat?”
I laughed. “You just had a shake.” That boy could put down a mountain of food, and still stay skinny as a reed.
“I’m always hungry.” He pulled out a chair at our small kitchen table and took a seat.
I fixed him a Co-Cola and a slice of chess pie Mama had made the day before. Then I sat down next to him and watched him wolf down that pie like he hadn’t eaten all day.
Once he swallowed his last bite I said, “Okay, you ready to study?”
“I’m never ready to study,” he said with a chuckle. “Let’s watch TV for thirty minutes. Then we’ll study.”
I shook my head playfully. “Whatever you say.”
We moseyed out to the living room and settled down onto our couch. Once we finished watching aFamily Tiesrerun, and the five o’clock news had started, I asked him again. “Don’t you think we better start studying?”
“I guess. But I’d rather play you a song I wrote yesterday.” He got up and sprinted toward the door. “My guitar’s in the Jeep.”
“You better get back here, boy,” I stood up and said before he could put his hand on the knob. “You’re asking for it.”
Reluctantly, he turned around. Then plopped back down on the couch. “Five more minutes?”
I shook my head and grinned. I already knew how hard it was for him to get started, but once he got going he usually did okay. “Five more minutes. That’s all you get.”
He leaned his head back and patted the seat next to him.
I sat down and leaned back, too. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his eyes were closed. He was thinking hard on something. Then he glanced around the room.
“I could live in this house. I used to feel bad for black people who had to live in small houses like this, but now that I’m here I realize I could live here, too.”
“You’re crazy,” I told him. “You could not.”
“Yes, I could.” He shrugged, started to say something else, but stopped.
“What? Go on and say it.”
“I was gonna say… I could live here because I’d be loved.” He turned to look me in the eye. “My parents don’t love me, Pearl.”
“William. You better stop thinking those things. They do love you.”
“I can count on one hand the times I’ve actually had meaningful conversations with either one of them. They’re much more concerned about Ole Miss football, and the furniture I can’t sit on, than spending time with their kids. My mom is at the Alpha Delt house way more than our house. Still. After all these years. And my dad… he still has posters of Archie Manning in his office.”
I gave him an understanding nod.
