Chapter 2 - Stay Right Here With Me
The buzzing wouldn't stop. It moved up my thigh through the pocket of my jeans, insistent and hot, while I stayed kneeled on the concrete in front of him.
Ethan's hand was still on my shoulder. His fingers tightened when the boy looked up at me and asked it again, quieter this time, like he was already preparing for me to leave. "Are you my real mom?"
I didn't answer right away because I couldn't. The sedan was still there at the curb, engine low, rear window half down. I could feel the older woman watching us. Not the store, not the street. Us.
My phone buzzed again. 8:47 glowed for a second against the fabric of my pocket. I pressed my palm hard over it through my jacket and silenced it without looking. Whatever it was could wait. I wasn't going to read a message while this kid waited for an answer I didn't have.
"No, honey," I said, and my voice came out breathier than I meant. "I'm not. But I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere yet, okay?"
He nodded once, quick, and looked down at his hands. His nails were black underneath. His knees were pulled up inside those dirty dark pants, his torn shirt hanging off one shoulder. The silver locket had slipped to the side. He fixed it without thinking, like he'd done it a hundred times.
Ethan crouched down next to me. "Mom," he whispered. "That boy looks like me."
"I know," I whispered back. "I see it."
I shrugged off one side of my backpack and found the plastic water bottle I'd packed for school drop-off. It was half warm already. I twisted the cap and held it out.
"Are you thirsty? You want some water?"
The boy stared at the bottle for a beat too long, like he was checking if there was a catch. Then he took it with both hands and drank. Fast at first, then he coughed and had to slow down. Water ran down his chin and cut a clean line through the dirt on his neck.
"Slow, slow," I said. "There's more. Take your time."
He breathed through his nose and took another smaller sip. "Thank you," he said.
"What's your name?" Ethan asked.
The boy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Leo."
"I'm Ethan." Ethan sat all the way down on the edge of the cardboard, careful not to touch the big box beside Leo. "Have you been here a long time?"
Leo glanced at the store doorway behind him, then at the box. "Since morning. My aunt said stay by the box till she comes back."
The air left my chest. Morning. It was barely past eight thirty and the concrete was already pulling the heat out of my knees. The storefront glass threw a white glare across his face. Inside I could see rows of chips and soda coolers and a man behind the counter watching us.
"Did she say when?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
Leo shook his head. He tucked the bottle cap in his palm and turned it over and over. "She said don't move. Don't talk to nobody."
Ethan looked at me. That was the rule I'd taught him too, don't talk to strangers, stay where I put you. Hearing it come back from this kid's mouth made my stomach turn.
The store door chimed and a clerk came out, young guy in a red apron with a box cutter in his hand. He didn't look at Leo. He looked at me.
"Ma'am," he said, low, jerking his chin toward the doorway. "You don't want to get involved in that. We've called before. He just shows back up."
"Called who?" I asked.
He shifted his weight. "People. Last week, services or whatever. Lady drops him, leaves the box, takes off. We got customers. You hang around, she won't come back."
Behind me a bus sighed past. I could smell exhaust and old grease from the vent over the store. My knees ached on the sidewalk. Leo had gone very still, the way Ethan went still when adults talked about him in the principal's office.
"I'm not leaving him on the sidewalk," I said.
The clerk held up both hands. "I'm just saying. You give him stuff, he stays. You stay, it's loitering. Manager will make me move you all."
He went back inside. The door chimed again. Through the glass I watched him pick up the phone behind the counter and look straight out at us.
Ethan leaned into my side. "Mom, are we in trouble?"
"No," I said. I put my arm around him and felt how fast his heart was going under his jacket. "You're not in trouble."
Leo was watching the sedan now. So was I. The rear window was rolling up slow. For a second I caught the older woman's face fully — gray hair pulled back tight, white coat collar up, mouth set hard. Shocked, yes, but not confused. She looked like someone who'd recognized something she didn't want to see.
Then the brake lights flashed and the black sedan pulled away from the curb into traffic. No hurry. No screech. Just gone around the corner past the light, leaving the smell of hot tires.
My phone was silent in my pocket now. Still unread. My palm itched to check it, to see who needed me at 8:47 on a school morning.
Instead I sat down on the concrete next to my son, tan sleeve against his blue sleeve, facing Leo. The cardboard was damp underneath us. The big box beside him had tape peeling off the top and someone's old address written in marker, crossed out.
May you like
"Leo," I said, "I'm going to wait here with you for a little while until we figure this out. Is that okay?"
He looked at me, then at Ethan, then at the empty curb where the car had been. He pulled his knees in tighter and nodded, and his fingers went back to that locket like it was the only solid thing he owned.
