Needy Little Things(58)
“That your brother you with?”
I want to tell him no, but for all I know, he’s been hovering around somewhere, watching. Maybe for days.
“You got something for me? I got your groceries tonight if you do.”
“No.” I shoot daggers at him.
“No? But I’m sure I heard you telling your brother y’all couldn’t afford the Lunchables. A young boy like that deserves some Lunchables, don’t you think?”
He does, but joke’s on him if this dude thinks he’s getting anything else out of me ever again. “There’s nothing. I’m not picking up on anything for you.” It was the truth when I started the sentence, but by the time I finish, something is taking shape. It makes my skin crawl, to feel a need as it develops. Like the universe is unsure and figuring it out involves injecting me with a million tiny worms.
He tilts his head to the side. “You sure about that?”
“Yes,” I say confidently, as the word still hasn’t taken shape. I want to get away from him before it does. I don’t want to know what he needs.
“If you say so. But if you’re really strapped for cash, I can take you to a spot. Know some folks who will pay good money for what you can provide. They might not look like they can, but once they see, they’ll pay. Of course, I’ll expect a certain cut for the hookup.”
“No.”
“What? You too good to hustle now, Sariyah?”
I flinch at the sound of my name in his mouth. How’d he figure it out?
“Well?” He takes another step toward me and I bump into the display behind me, knocking some items to the ground. The noise turns a few heads.
An employee in a blue vest catches my expression and shouts, “Can I help you, sir?” Is there a problem here? masked as a courtesy. They make a beeline for us.
“I see you,” Tim spits. He backs away, then jogs for the exit. As he reaches the end of my range, his need comes through. It whispers over me, making the hairs on my arm stand on end. Pocketknife. Pocketknife. Pocketknife.
I let out a wavering breath. Before Ms. Jess, I never could have imagined something from Santa Bag being used in a violent way. I can’t know for sure how Tim would have used a pocketknife, but I’m secure in being unable to provide it.
“Are you okay?” the sales associate asks, still looking toward the exit.
I want to say yes, but I am not okay. I’m scared. I want my mom. I want my dad. I want to feel like I have some semblance of control over anything that happens in my life.
Jojo appears next to me. “What’s wrong, Riyah?”
I ignore my brother, mumble thanks to the clerk, and direct the cart to the frozen food aisle.
CHAPTER 24
Jojo is tired when we get home, so I send him to get ready for bed while I unload the groceries. I tidy up the kitchen while I’m at it, eager to keep busy. I collect pens, napkins, and sauce packets and walk them over to the junk drawer next to the fridge. It’s overstuffed with papers. Old mailers and bills mostly. Bills. It’s the beginning of the month, and I wonder if Mama paid everything before she spiraled. She hasn’t had trouble keeping up with things like that in the past, but she’s also never been fired. Not as far as I know. She was a nurse before she started at the Wilhem five years ago. I never thought much about her sudden and drastic career change. Nothing seemed important next to Tessa’s disappearance.
I sneak Mama’s work bag from the coat closet and tiptoe down the hall. Jojo’s in his room streaming an Atlanta United match when he should be asleep, but it works to my benefit. If Mama wakes up, she’ll get on to him first and it’ll give me time to hide my snooping. Her laptop is heavy and slow. It creaks when I lift the screen and groans when I boot it up. Her password for everything is my first initial and birthday, followed by Jojo’s and an exclamation point. I type S518j1002! and I’m granted access. This isn’t personal, I tell myself. I’m not trying to discover her deepest secrets. I just want to make sure our bills are paid and can’t—would never—insult her by asking.
I open the browser where Mama’s online banking account is saved to the bookmarks toolbar. Her last direct deposit from work was a little over a week ago, so there should be at least one more coming soon. But even if so, there’s only enough money here to get us through two months tops, and that’s if we stick just to necessities. I could continue to hustle needs and we wouldn’t want for anything, except after tonight at the grocery store, I’m terrified. But Daddy once told me desperation can melt fear. So I hold the fright in my mouth. Suck on it like a throat lozenge. And it soothes just as well. Because as long as the fear is there, things aren’t dire.
Mama will get through whatever she’s going through. I hope. She always has before. But I wish I didn’t have to be responsible in the meantime. I want to rewind to last summer. To when me, Josiah, and Malcolm spent long balmy days in Chefly, walking around barefoot, not a care in the world. No new missing girls, not on our radar at least. Tessa was still on our minds, she always will be, but after so many years, grief for her had made itself at home. Unfortunately, I can’t rewind. Not one week, not five years. I have to sit right here in the present. And while our family finances may not be dire yet, that on top of everything else has my brain at the jumping-off point. But there’s one problem that, if favorably resolved, could make almost all the others dissipate. Make everything else seem trivial.