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The Kingdom Foundation, directed by Hayes, organized a clothing and book drive. The donations poured in. Today is shopping day for the families. I got here at 6:30 to help set up, and the line had already started forming. I catch a glimpse of Hayes disappearing in the direction of the picture section. But before I can call after him, the doors open and the people file in. We’re in the boys’ section, “Size twelve months to four years” in the store, and before we have the chance to speak to each other again, our first customers stand at our table. Instantly, I recognize the boy from Hayes’s house the night of the flood. “Hey there,” I say.
“Hi.” He smiles brightly.
“Do you remember me?” I ask.
“Yeah. Of course. And thank you for volunteering today,” he says like he’s reciting something memorized and just remembered he needed to say.
“You’re welcome. What nice manners,” I respond.
“Well, this was all my idea,” he beams.
“Was it?” I ask and look over his shoulder to make sure no one’s waiting to actually be served. “You must be very proud of how it’s all turned out then,” I say jokingly.
He nods. “Yeah, the first time Mr. Hayes came to visit, he asked me what I thought folks needed and I told him clothes for school,” he says and my heart actually jumps.
“M-Mr. Hayes came to see you?” I ask, saying each word slowly, so that I can make sure he doesn’t misunderstand me.
“Yeah, well, more than once—and not just me. We went around and met with lots of people,” he says.
“What types of meetings?” I ask skeptically.
“Him asking questions about their living situation, families, and asking everyone to give him an idea of what they needed to feel comfortable. I took notes and he even paid me for my time,” he says proudly.
“Wow, well, that sounds awesome,” I say and smile. And this time, there’s not a well of pain behind it.
“Anyway, I just wanted to say hi. And thank you for being here and being the reason Mr. Hayes even came to visit us. He told us you suggested it,” he says.
A peal of laughter propelled by relief bursts from my throat.
“Did he? That’s awesome,” I say.
“He’s pretty cool.” The young man nods.
“See you later.” He waves and walks off.
I feel like crying at what I just heard, but I also feel completely giddy. For the last two weeks, my coffee order has been ready and waiting for me when I walk into Sweet and Lo’s. I’ve had flowers on my desk every morning, my lunch delivered every afternoon. My car washed while it was parked in the garage of my office. Hayes has been relentless in his attempts to woo me.
But this ... done not to woo me back, but because he’s a good man trying to do right is the first thing he’s done that makes me feel like maybe he sees me. That he’s not just trying to convince me, but that he’s doing it for himself, too. That thought makes me unbearably happy. I brush my tears away and turn around just in time to greet my very first customers.
KNEEL
CONFIDENCE
“I’ll have the meatloaf sandwich,” I say to my waitress.
“Oh yeah, great choice.” She smiles widely. “It’s delicious.”
“Everything here is delicious,” Tyson says. His dark brown eyes twinkle with mischief, and he says, “including some of the diners.” He grins and then winces. He glares at his older brother. “Remi, yo,” he says in a comically, high-pitched voice while rubbing the side of his head that his brother just slapped.
“Stop talking to her like she’s one of those THOTs in that little fan club of yours,” Remi says without looking up from the menu.
“Yo, can I help it if they love me? I mean, maybe if you stopped and smelled the roses instead of trying to be some sort of superhuman legend, you’d get some of that love, too,” he says.
I look back between the brothers and shake my head. “Can you guys please stop bickering? The car ride over was enough of that to last me a lifetime. I’d like to have some quiet with my air conditioning and beer, please,” I say.
“See, Remi, she likes me.” He winks at me. “Can you stop getting in between us?” He drags his chair close to mine. “Excuse me, miss, but you’ve got some dust on your arm,” he says and brushes the remnants of our afternoon off my arm.
“You’re such a flirt, Ty,” I say with mock disapproval.
