Page 83 of The Corruption of Hollis Brown

I can be angry, and worried. I can be angry and care about you too.

Walt made a wounded sound, deep in Hollis’s throat, and buried their face in the sheets.

I didn’t know you were going to be like this. I didn’t know this would happen. I wouldn’t have . . . I wish I could . . .

Quieter, like it wasn’t intended for Hollis to hear, he said, Forgive me, God, come to my assistance; Lord, make haste to help me.

Hollis laughed.

I’m wicked enough for prayer? What’s the rest?

Don’t mock me Hollis. Not now, when I feel so small.

Let them be confounded and ashamed that seek my soul. Let them be turned backward and blush for shame, that desire evils to me. Let them be presently turned away, blushing for shame, that desire evils to me. Let all that seek thee rejoice and be glad in thee. And let such as love thy salvation say always:

The Lord be magnified.

But I am needy and poor: Help me.

Hollis put a hand to their face through the sheets, brushed a thumb over their cheekbone, tender and cruel.

Thou art my helper and my deliverer: Lord, make no delay.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost.

As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end.

Staring Down the Sun

Hollis knew then that he couldn’t give this up. He needed this in a real way and he wasn’t ashamed of it, it wasn’t in his nature to feel ashamed. Like being born to drink gasoline on a planet of people who needed water.

He wondered if Walt had felt that way too. Living rough in the final years of that brittle last millennium, did Walt lie in bed in his tenement and stare at his ceiling in the middle of the night and just feel thirsty? Off-balance without Hollis crowded in beneath his skin.

It was greedy. But Hollis had been greedy before.

Float

Friday went better than they thought.

There were two weeks before winter break started, and they had papers and projects due.

Walt was always amused at Hollis’s homework. He was better at history for predictable reasons, but math and science worked well for him too. English was his only sore point, but that was Hollis’s best subject, so it evened out.

They had to swing home and pick up the French bread and Hollis’s clothes and toothbrush before heading to Yulia’s. Technically, the slumber party didn’t start until 8:00 p.m., so they had time for dinner too, but Hollis liked food at Yulia’s house better than anything they ate at his.

Usually Yulia’s parents were home when they came over for dinner, but Yulia knew how to make stew and fufu and pounded yam and dodo herself. Nigerian food had a decent amount of ingredients that Yulia’s family had to get in the mail.

Early the year before, Hollis had managed to grow them some yams, but a decent amount of them had gotten too green in the Michigan spring sun. They only got them a single pound of flour.

The ordeal made him one of Yulia’s pa’s favorite people though, so Hollis still tried planting both yams and Scotch bonnet peppers for him every so often.

Indigo

Hollis cocked his hip and leaned against Yulia’s stairwell. She kicked open the door and turned back inside.

“Get the stew off the fire,” she shouted. “Annie’s here early, we’re almost done with dinner. Come fry plantain.” She took Hollis’s bag off his shoulder and dropped it in the living room by the couch.

Annie was poking at the stew with a fork and looking dubious. She wasn’t a good cook. Her parents handled most of that at her house.