And then, speaking of afraid, I started hearing the noises of somebody coming through the vacant lot, and I just knew I was about to be robbed, or worse. I figured all the people on the street knew Bodhi wasn’t here with me, and so it was just a matter of time until they found out where I slept.
I could see a little bit of light, but not a big light like a flashlight would throw off. Maybe just somebody’s cell phone or those little lights you put on your keychain so you can see to stick the key in your front door at night. If you’re lucky enough to have a front door at night.
Bodhi’s wallet wasn’t in the crate with me—it was still in the packing paper at the bottom of that plastic barrel. Because I’m not stupid, and I know that when somebody finds the place where they can see you’ve been sleeping, that’s the place they toss for anything you might actually own.
The only thing that was in the crate with me, except for a couple of raggedy blankets, was the black plastic squirt gun Bodhi used to keep around. He told me never to point it at anybody in the daylight, because they’d right away see what it was and what it wasn’t. It wasn’t going to fool anybody in the middle of the day, but he said hardly anybody’s going to rob you in the middle of the day anyway, so maybe it might come in handy.
The noises were getting closer, so I took hold of the squirt gun and jumped out. I didn’t want to do it, but I knew I had to, because once somebody actually got to the front end of the crate, which was the only end that opened up, they’d have me pretty well trapped.
I could make out a person, but it was just a shape in the dark, and the only thing I could really see was a glowing phone making just a little bit of light to walk by. It was down near the person’s hip. My heart was banging and I could feel the blood in my ears doing this pounding thing, and when I called out, my voice sounded squeaky and high and not scary like I wanted it to be.
“Don’t come any closer! I’ve got a gun!”
“It’s only me,” a voice said, and it was a lady voice. Which I guess was a little bit better, but who knows?
“Who?”
“Brooke. It’s only Brooke.”
Then I laughed, but I think it was mostly all that fear rushing out of me. I don’t think I really thought it was very funny how she scared me like that.
“What’re you doing here?” I asked her.
She said, “Could you please put the gun down and then I’ll tell you?”
“Oh, this?” I said. “This’s not even a gun, it’s a squirt gun. I was just trying to fool you.” I showed her by squirting it against my hand, even though she couldn’t see it in the dark, most likely, but I figured she could hear it. “Now what are you doing here? I thought you said you were going to sort of leave it up to me whether I wanted to see you or not.”
Then I tossed the squirt gun back into the open crate, and it made a noise when it landed, and she jumped.
For a minute nobody said anything. We just stood there in the dark, not even really seeing each other, and it felt stupid. I just felt like we were both being stupid somehow, but I can’t really explain how.
Then she said, “So you did get my note.”
“Yeah,” I said.
“I wasn’t sure if you did. If you would. That’s why I came by. Because I knew I would always wonder if you saw the note but didn’t want to talk to me, or if you just hadn’t seen it. And then I’d never know if I said sorry properly.”
We stood quiet for another stupid minute.
I was thinking about how sometimes when people want to tell you how sorry they are, it feels a little bit like they want to make themselves feel better. You know. More than you. But I don’t even know for a fact if they can tell that’s what they’re doing or not.
I didn’t say any of that.
After a while I just said, “Where’s the baby?”
“Home sleeping.”
“You left her alone?”
I was shocked. Seriously shocked that she would do a thing like that.
“My mother is home with her,” she said.
“Oh.”
Then we had no idea what to say.
I shouldn’t speak for her, because I can’t really say for a fact what was going on in her head, but there was this big awkward thing hanging between us and you could just feel it. It felt like you could take a fork and poke holes in it, it was that real. You know, if you had a fork.
“Maybe I could just say a little more before I go,” she said.
And I said, “No.”
I think it surprised us both.
“Any special reason?”
“Because I can’t see you. I can’t see your face or your eyes, so I can’t tell what you’re thinking about me. So I won’t know what to think about anything you say to me, because I won’t know if you’re still looking down on me or not.”
“Oh,” she said.
She sounded . . . I can’t quite get the right word for it. Like life was more complicated than she expected. Maybe even like I was more complicated than she expected. Like she was discouraged or depressed by that, or something, and didn’t feel up to handling whatever came next.
The phone had gone dark, but she held it up near her head and touched the screen, and it put a glow on her face. But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t see much of
