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If something were to happen to Abram, would I really be okay with being stuck here alone? Will a tiny, dingy, dilapidated two-bedroom house be all that I have to show for my life at the end of it all? A wardrobe full of faded, department store dresses and a slowly dying car? It’s pathetic when I stop to think about it. My eyes drift to the faded wallpaper that is peeling at the corners down to the slightly warped baseboards. The home could do with a little bit of maintenance, but there is no denying that it is cozy and more than well lived in.
“You must focus on the positive, Zaya—and eat your food. I worked hard on it.” He points his fork at my plate and lifts his thick eyebrows at me.
I smile brightly. He’s right. I have the habit of focusing on all the bad things in life. For his sake, I will try to do better. It’s the least I can do. “Okay, okay. Thank you.”
I spear one of the stuffed shells that he’s made. He’s right. I can’t let myself be crippled by my fear for the rest of my life. For now, I’m here, doing something that I know I will come to love. That man at the door simply had good fashion sense, nothing more. I have to make the best and most of this, for Abram’s sake.
“You know what you could do if you really wished to thank me, Zaya?” Abram says as we finish the meal. He blots the corners of his mouth with his napkin and slowly wipes his chin. As he moves the napkin away, it reveals a wicked grin. For a moment, he appears almost ten years younger, what with that playful glint in his eye.
“What’s that? I’m not sure I like that sinister smile on your face, old man.” I narrow my eyes playfully at him. It really doesn’t matter what he’s about to ask me for, I’m probably going to do it. So rarely does he let me do anything that will make his day better.
“I could die for a chocolate milkshake right now. And die a very happy man at that.” He pats his belly dramatically and leans back in his chair, licking his lips like he belongs in a cartoon.
“You have the worst sweet tooth I’ve ever seen!” I snort, trying to hold back my laughter. I’m already heading for my keys.
“It is true,” he grins overly large, showing me as many of his teeth as possible. “They areallsweet teeth!” His following belly laugh could rattle the house down to its timbers. It’s my favorite sound in the whole world.
“Okay! Okay! I will get you one! Chocolate fiend…” I curl my fingers around the keys and push the button that will make the old garage door groan to life.
“And hurry! I fear I will die of impatience before you return,” he says to my retreating back, already starting on the dishes.
—
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CHAPTERFIVE
Daniel
“If you eat one more burger, you’re going to burst,” I tease Henry as he stuffs the second half of his second burger into his mouth. He’s a bottomless pit. How he can eat so much is a mystery. The only answer that I get is a toothy grin and a mouthful of food. My nose crinkles as I recoil from the gesture with half a laugh.
“It’s so good that I can’t help myself.” He says around his food. He’s already reaching for another fry to dunk into his heaping pile of ketchup. I should really get on to him about forgetting his manners. But he’s so funny, and he’s enjoying himself so much. Truthfully, if hekeepsenjoying himself, I will buy out the entire diner’s stock of burgers and fries.
As promised, we headed out for his favorite meal to celebrate his first day at the new school. He’s a kid of simple pleasures. A good double cheeseburger, with or without bacon, and you can convince him to do just about anything. Add french fries? You’re golden in his books.
The town has only three dining establishments. One is a Chinese restaurant on the outskirtsthat has no posted hours and appears to be perpetuallyclosed. The second is a family dining establishment that I presume is the go-to ‘date’ location for most of the older crowd here. Then there is the diner, fashioned out of what was likely a garage once. Two large bay doors open out over a patio area. The inside houses the kitchen and an array of cracked red booths andmostlyclean tables.
The red paint on the picnic-style bench Henry chose for us is peeling away and sun-faded. Teenagers in groups linger around the place, sharing plastic baskets of onion rings and other various fried foods. I wonder if this is the best spot in town, and I sigh. If it is, I’ll have to make sure Henry gets to come here often while he’s making friends.
Henry doesn’t seem to be aware of the teens glancing in our direction. The novelty of being the ‘new kid’ in such a small town seems almost lost on him.
He’s going to crash harder than he realizes when all the sugar from his vanilla milkshakes starts to wear off. He has a collection of half-consumed milkshakes in glasses in front of him. He had wanted to sample each of their flavors so that he could choose which one was his favorite. If it means that he will continue to be optimistic about attending school here, for however long it takes, then it is worth it to me.
