Mama was up and dressed for bear, as she put it. She was happy, too, which meant she had another supply of white powder. “So what did you buy with the twenty bucks you took, baby?” She took the plastic bag from him and emptied it on the table while Bobby Ray looked in the refrigerator. No milk. “Sorry, honey. I haven’t had time to go shopping. I had to make myself presentable. Tell you what! I’ll find some nice man to take me to dinner at a fancy restaurant and bring you a doggie bag.” She laughed. “Alioto’s! How’s that sound? Or the Franciscan! I’ll order lobster!”
“You want a sandwich, Mama?” Bobby Ray didn’t want her to leave. “I’ll make it for you.” When she was happy like this, she stayed out all night.
“No, baby. That’s all for you.” She looped her large bag over her shoulder and headed out. “Lock the door after I leave.”
Bobby Ray hated it when his mother left high and happy. The last time she did, when she came back, she’d cried all the next day and had to put on lots of makeup to cover bruises before going to work at the club. “Don’t go. Please?” His lip quivered, and he let the tears come, hoping they’d make a difference.
Mama came back, anguished. “Oh, honey, you know I’ve gotta go. Mama does so much better when she’s had something to help. You know? I’m doing the best I can. Sometimes I . . .” She shook her head, her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t look at me like that, Bobby Ray.” She leaned down and cupped his face. “You know I love you more than anything in this whole world. I’m gonna take good care of you, baby. You wait and see.”
“Mama . . .” He hugged her tightly. She was soft and smelled of sweet perfume. He clung to her like ivy on a brick wall.
“Let go.” Mama pried his arms loose and held him firmly at arm’s length. “Stop it right now! You know I’m gonna come back. Don’t I always? Now be good. Stay inside. Lock the door. You can watch TV as late as you want.” She left without looking back again.
Bobby Ray went to the window and tried to open it. He fought the latch, but it wouldn’t budge. Mama appeared on the street below. He knocked on the glass, but she didn’t look up. She walked like she knew exactly where she was going. He wished he knew where that was.
He opened the box of pristine crayons and drew on a page of newsprint. He ate a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. When the sun went down, he watched TV. Worried, he dragged a kitchen chair to the window and sat watching for Mama to come home. The neon sign came on across the street. He wondered who Jesus was. Mama said her daddy had been religious and tried to beat hell out of her. Bobby Ray made a pillow of his arms and focused on the beauty of those intense, rich colors.
Boyish laughter awakened him. A teenager dressed in black was spray-painting the wall across the street. Another was standing guard at the corner. Bobby Ray listened and watched as the painter opened a backpack and pulled out another can, yellow this time, green the next. The lookout motioned him to hurry up. The painter worked fast, making large bubble letters. Bobby Ray was enthralled. The teen at the corner whistled. The painter stashed his spray paint, shouldered his bag, and disappeared around the corner just as a police car came to the intersection. The squad car paused, a beam of light searching and finding the newly painted wall. The police car turned in the direction the boys had run, the beam of light waving from one side of the street to the other.
Giving up his vigil, Bobby Ray climbed into the bed he shared with Mama. He curled into a ball on Mama’s side. She’d wake him up when she got home. Maybe she’d bring another man home with her, a nice one like the last, one willing to hand over an extra twenty. He slept fitfully.
Mama still wasn’t home the next morning. Bobby Ray didn’t know whether to go to school or wait. Scared and angry, he grabbed his books and headed down the stairs.
Mr. Salvaggio came out of his apartment looking like a pumpkin in his Giants sweatshirt. “Hey! Where’s that mother of yours? She owes me rent!” Bobby Ray darted around him. “Hey! I’m talking to you, kid!” Mr. Salvaggio made a swipe for him, but Bobby Ray ran quick as a rat for the front door.
“Sheila!” Mr. Salvaggio shouted up the stairs. “You better pay up or my cousin Guido and I are gonna put you out on the street for good. You hear me?”
Frightened and wondering what would happen if Mama didn’t have any money when she got home, Bobby Ray went to the nightclub where Mama worked. He slipped in a side door while a delivery was being unloaded. It was dimly lit inside. The place smelled bad. A man in shirtsleeves and a loosened tie signed paperwork on a clipboard and handed it to the uniformed truck driver. Opening a box, he pulled out a bottle and then spotted Bobby Ray. “What’re you doing in here?” He jerked his chin. “Get out of here, kid! You trying to get me shut down?”