Saving Rain(10)

But I smiled and shook my head. “No, thanks, Mrs. Porter,” I replied. “I gotta get home and do my homework.”

“Oh.” She looked disappointed. Billy's mom was always so nice to me; she always seemed like she genuinely enjoyed my presence in her house. “Well, okay then. Maybe another time. Get home safe, okay? Tell your mother I said hi.”

“I will.” I smiled and waved, all too aware of the painful ache that struck my heart as I began to walk away. “Bye!”

The journey home was long as my feet dragged along the sidewalk. I could've ridden my bike, but I didn’t feel like it. I couldn't stop thinking about Billy. I couldn't stop thinking about the half circle he’d swallowed and the other that was still in his pocket. I should've said something to his mom. I should've taken her up on her offer for a nice ham dinner. I should've done a lot of things, none of which I’d ended up doing, and that was my fault. That was my neglect, and even though I didn’t know it then, I would pay for it forever.

What wasn't my fault though was walking into our crappy little apartment to find all the lights off, including the one Mom always kept on in the kitchen—always.

I flipped the switch beside the front door a few times, up and down, and with every flick, the same thing happened—absolutely nothing.

With my blood whooshing loudly past my eardrums, I dropped my backpack onto one of the two dining chairs and headed through the doorway into the living room, where I found Mom lying on the couch in the dark when she was supposed to be at work.

“Mom?”

She didn't move, and I immediately thought she had died.

What am I going to do? Where will I go? Would Billy's mom let me live with her?

God, I hope I can live with Billy's mom.

Guilt settled cold in my gut as I carefully took a step closer, scared that she was dead. Scared that she wasn't.

“Mom?” I asked again, and this time, she rolled her head against the cushion.

“Hmm,” she murmured.

I couldn't tell if her eyes were open, but she was awake, and a tiny part of me was disappointed.

“What happened to the lights?”

She slowly sat up, lifting a hand and dropping it onto her lap with a dismissive attitude. “The choice was pay the rent or the electric.”

I sighed and sat on a folding chair I sometimes used to watch TV if Mom was sleeping on the couch. “We always had lights at Gramma and Grampa's house.”

“Well, we're not at Gramma and Grampa's house anymore, so fucking deal with it.”

“How am I supposed to do my homework?”

“Guess you're gonna have to do your homework in the dark.”

Mom stood up and shuffled past me to enter the kitchen. I looked over my shoulder to watch her open the fridge and reach into the darkness, and she pulled out the bottle of milk.

“You’re having cereal for dinner, so don’t even think about asking for anything else,” she mumbled, dropping the bottle on the table. “Use the milk. It's gonna go bad if you don't.”

I thought about the ham Billy was eating with his family as I asked, “Why aren't you at work?”

Mom sighed and touched her fingers to her temples. “They, um … they let me go.”

“So, we don't have any money?” If Mom couldn't pay to keep the lights on, how were we gonna pay for anything else? What were we going to eat? What if we didn't have a place to live? “Mom … what are we going to do?”

“God, Soldier, it's fine,” Mom said, throwing my worry away with a roll of her eyes. “I'll go on some more interviews, find another job … you know how it goes.”

I did know. Mom had been through probably a million jobs as far as I could remember. But back then, I hadn’t worried. I had Gramma. I had Grampa. They didn't let us go without lights. They had made sure we had food and lights and TV and whatever else we needed. But now, without them, things were bad, and they were getting worse, and what if Mom couldn't find another job? What if she'd been through all of them and there were no other jobs to lose?

“Soldier,” Mom interrupted my thoughts and walked into the living room, “it'll be fine, okay? Now, stop worrying about it.”

I didn't say anything because I didn't believe her. Then, she announced she had a headache and was going to bed. I stayed in my uncomfortable folding chair and watched as she opened her purse and took out her bottle of pills, popped it open, and dropped two little pink pills into her mouth. She swallowed without water, put the bottle back into her bag, then went to her room without saying good night.

My eyes remained on her bag as I thought of everything that could happen if Mom couldn't find another job. If we couldn't get the lights back on. If we couldn't buy food or pay the rent or find anywhere to go. We'd be homeless and hungry, and where would we go? What would happen to us?

But if I could make some money …

I slowly got up from the chair and tiptoed to Mom's bag, thinking about the ten dollars Billy had spent on one of those pink pills. One. If Billy was paying Levi for them, other kids probably were too.

I quietly opened her bag, gritting my teeth as the cheap zipper resounded loudly through the dark, hushed apartment. The bottle was right there on top of everything else, and I picked it up in my shaking hand, careful to not let the pills rattle against the plastic. There were tons of them inside the orange bottle.