Chapter 10 - The Striped Shirt Drying By The Sink
The apartment smelled like chlorine and dish soap when we got in. It was almost nine and the hallway light was buzzing again. I locked the deadbolt behind us and set my keys in the blue bowl by the door, and Leo stood very still in his socks while I did it, like he was waiting for me to tell him what came next.
" Bath," I said. " Quick one. It's late."
He nodded and walked down the hall ahead of me. His sneakers squeaked against the linoleum. In the bathroom I turned the tub on warm and tested it with my wrist while he sat on the closed toilet lid, picking at a sticker on his knee. The red basket of leftover fries from the diner sat in a to-go box on the counter. He hadn't wanted any more of them after Rosa had packed them up.
I helped him out of his shirt. The white striped one with the little blue pocket. There was a mustard smudge near the hem and the collar was stretched from where he'd tugged at it on the deck that afternoon. I held it a second longer than I needed to.
The water rose around his ankles. He lowered himself in without splashing, which wasn't like him. Usually he narrated everything, made motor noises with the washcloth. Tonight he just sat with his knees up and watched the faucet drip.
"You okay in there?" I asked.
He shrugged. " Yeah."
I let him soak while I soaped his hair. The light above the mirror made his light brown hair look darker when it was wet. I rinsed with the plastic cup we kept on the ledge, shielding his eyes with my hand the way I'd done since he was two. He blinked water off his lashes and didn't complain.
After, I wrapped him in the gray towel with the frayed edge and carried his shirt to the kitchen sink. I ran the water hot and worked a dab of dish soap into the mustard spot with my thumb. The stripes bled a little color when they got wet, thin lines of red and blue and green. I rinsed it clean and wrung it gently, then laid it flat on the drying rack beside the sink. I smoothed the pocket down and folded the sleeves in so it would keep its shape.
When I came back, Leo was already in his pajamas, standing beside his bed holding his pillow. The dinosaur one with the flat trunk. He'd pulled the blanket down himself.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and he climbed up next to me. The lamp on the milk crate we used as a nightstand threw a soft circle on the wall. Outside, someone's car alarm went off twice down on the street and then stopped.
I read him two pages of the truck book because that's all he wanted. He didn't turn the flaps. He just leaned his head against my arm and breathed.
Then he asked it.
"Mom?" His voice was small. " Was I bad for wanting fries?"
My chest tightened. I stared at the baseboard for a second so he wouldn't see it on my face.
"No, baby," I said. " No."
He picked at a thread on his blanket. " Grandma said wait."
"I know."
"Everyone laughed."
I put my hand on his back. He was warm through the cotton of his pajamas. " Wanting something is not bad," I said. " You raised your hand because you were hungry. That's not bad. That's normal."
He looked up at me. " You sure?"
"I'm sure."
He nodded slowly, like he was trying it on. He laid his head back down on the pillow and pulled the blanket up to his chin. I kept my hand on his back and felt his breathing even out, in and out against my palm.
It took a while. He shifted twice. He asked for water and took one sip from the plastic dinosaur cup and handed it back. Then his eyes stayed closed.
Across the room, my phone sat on the kitchen counter where I'd plugged it in. The black case caught the lamp light. I could see the little green charging dot from here. I'd put it on silent after Colleen and I hung up, but I kept glancing at it anyway, expecting it to light up with number twelve.
I thought about calling my mom back tonight and getting it over with. I thought about what Colleen had said, that she'd back me up if I talked to Carol. My jaw ached from clenching it.
Leo sighed in his sleep and rolled toward the wall. His hand opened and closed once. I tucked the blanket around his shoulders and stayed there until I was sure he was under.
In the kitchen, I stood over the sink and looked at his shirt on the rack. Clean. Folded neatly. Ready for tomorrow. The pocket lay flat and empty.
I picked up the phone, checked the charge at eighty-four percent, and set it back down face-up. Eleven missed calls. One message read. Nothing new. I stared at it until the screen went dark.
May you like
Tomorrow I would drive to Carol's. I didn't know exactly what I would say yet, but I knew I couldn't let him keep thinking he'd done something wrong by being hungry. That settled it more than anything Colleen had said.
I turned off the kitchen light and went back to sit with him a little longer in the dark.
