Jeffery Allen - Holding Pattern - Stories

Wow, Peanut said. Her voice echoed.

You like it?

This place bigger than my apartment.

Stupid, Lee thought. Of course it was bigger than her apartment. She lived in a studio. Yes, he said.

What kind of rug is that? She moved forward to get a closer look. Her footsteps drum taps on the marble.

It’s from Afghanistan.

You been there?

No. Lee had no interest in traveling. It’s completely handwoven. Every thread.

God. It musta took somebody a long time to finish.

Another stupid thing to say. Lee played along with it. I guess so.

Boo would like this place. She looked around.

Boo?

My son.

Oh.

His real name is Goodwin Junior.

Lee nodded.

After his father and whatnot.

How old is he?

He seven.

I didn’t know that you had a son.

Now you do.

Lee didn’t like being insulted in his own office.

Why do you call him Boo?

Cause he scare me.

He scares you?

Yeah. His love be so strong.

I don’t follow.

Boy, is you dense.

Lee didn’t say anything.

I can’t deal wit no dense folks.

I just don’t understand what you mean.

She rolled her eyes. Look, Boo love so strong for me that it scare me.

Oh. I see.

Finally.

Lee didn’t say anything.

Anyway. Don’t you want to meet him?

Only if he don’t scare me.

Peanut just looked at him. That joke sure was corny and whatnot.

Lee felt delighted. His heart glowed inside. She’d missed his sarcasm.

Boo won’t scare you.

Good.

I want him to see yo office.

Sure. When are we going to bring him by? Next Sunday? That was Peanut’s day off.

Bet. A week from today.

Okay. Sunday, then.

Bet.

Lee was tugged by two feelings. On the one hand, he didn’t like kids. On the other, Boo’s existence offered him the chance to start a real family. Boo wasn’t his own child, but Lee was certain that he could learn to love the boy. He told Peanut that he made sure only singles or married couples without kids rented in his buildings. Children were simply destructive. Lee believed that a group of children might literally tear a building to the ground or, at the least, wreak irreparable damage.

Why don’t you move into one of my buildings? My best building. I have an apartment for you.

Now, you know I can’t afford to live in one of your buildings.

Rent free, of course.

Well, I thought you don’t low no kids in your buildings.

Of course, I’ll make an exception for you and Boo.

Ain’t you sweet. She kissed Lee on the cheek.

How soon can you move?

Real soon. She laughed.

Lee laughed too.

But I don’t want to live around no Section Eight tenants and whatnot. She was serious. Boo needs a wholesome environment.

Lee laughed. Hey, I don’t deal with welfare cases.

Well, all right, then.

Why don’t you move on the first of the month? That was two weeks away.

Bet.

Lee was determined to be a father to Boo, if for no other reason than to impress Peanut. That was one reason why he had questioned Peanut’s habit of leaving Boo home by himself. (And, it dawned on him, all the nights he and Peanut were at the lounge, Boo was at home alone. And Boo was alone whenever she was working.) So, the previous night, he had suggested that they all go to the zoo.

Boo’s never been to the zoo, she said.

What?

I said, Boo ain’t never been to no zoo.

Well, let’s take him.

Why?

It’s not right that a kid’s never been to the zoo.

What you mean, it not right?

I just mean that the zoo is somewhere every kid should go.

A zoo ain’t got nothin but animals.

But kids like animals.

The zoo boring.

It’s not boring. Kids like animals.

How you know?

Trust me. I know.

Just animals.

We’ll go Sunday.

We sposed to be going to yo office Sunday.

We’ll go to the zoo, then we’ll go to the office.

Boo might not like the zoo.

He’ll like it.

He better.

Lee bit his tongue. Tasted fire. Hey, we’ll all go have dinner afterward.

That sound good.

I know a nice restaurant.

Sound real good. What next?

Well … let’s go back to my place. Watch some movies. Play some games.

Yeah. Then we gon put Boo to bed. We gon talk.

Talk?

Yeah, talk.

Yes, we can talk.

You know, talk. Boy, you dense.

In his car, parked in a sleeve of shade, Lee sat remembering the previous night’s conversation. Thinking, Yes, we will talk. Something fine was going to happen to him today. He’d had enough of the past. Time to forget the dead. Time to start dealing with live people. Lee started the car.

Underneath a thick yellow yoke of light, Peanut and Boo stood in front of the building where they lived. Peanut bright in a light blue summer dress and white pumps. Boo small, even for a seven-year-old. Looked more like a midget than a child. White cotton double-breasted suit. A red and white polka-dot tie. White loafers. A square house cut, like Lee’s. Sharp. As bright as a fresh egg. A cute midget.

Hey, baby girl.

Hey, honey.

They touched lips.

Hello, Mr. Christmas, Boo said. He extended a tiny hand.

Lee chuckled. Took the hand into his own. Hello, Boo. Aren’t you sharp today?

The boy squeezed Lee’s hand. He had a powerful grip.

We must go to the same barber. Lee tried not to concentrate on the pain in his hand.

That’s a real nice haircut you got, Peanut said. She kissed Lee on the cheek.

Thank you, Lee said. Ran his free hand over the privet hedge.

Boo didn’t crack a smile. Yeah. We must go to the same barber, Mr. Christmas.

Lee tried to withdraw his hand.

That’s a nice suit too, Peanut said.

Thank you, Lee said. His hand bubbled hot, deep in boiling wate r.

Boo withdrew his grip. Lee thought he had exaggerated the child’s strength. Still, there was no denying the throbbing in his hand. The sun glowed brighter, spreading a fan of light. Boo’s eyes, large and black, shining black. Lee took Peanut by the arm. Led her to the car. Boo walked beside them. Lee held the door open for Peanut. She slid into the front passenger seat. Lee shut the door quietly behind her. Held open the rear door for Boo.

Thank you, Mr. Christmas, Boo said.

You’re welcome, Boo. Lee’s hand throbbed.

I like yo car, Mr. Christmas.

Thank you, Boo. Lee shut the door behind the boy. Stepped quickly around the rear of his car. Opened his door and stooped into the driver’s seat. We gon have a fine time today. He hit the ignition. The engine gurgled, then spit to life.

Gon do my best, honey, Peanut said. She smiled. More pleasant than usual. Lee gave her a long look. Round face and a small mouth and freckles like seeds on both cheeks. Hair dyed to match her skin complexion. Combed forward into a pouf to expose the back of her neck. Her smile helped ease Lee’s tension. It even made his hand feel better. But some feeling flowed up from his belly in soft surges. Wet his chest.

Better keep yo eyes on the road, Peanut said.

Lee swallowed. I got eyes all over my body.

I just bet you do.

Lee put both hands on the wheel. Eased up on the gas. Pulled the car into the middle of the road.

The sun roared without pause. This sun is something else today, Lee said.

Yeah, it is sort of bad, Peanut said.

Is that sun bothering you, Boo? Lee asked.

I’m all right, Mr. Christmas. The voice rose from the backseat.

I don’t know how you can stand this sun, Lee said to Peanut.

Is that all you gon talk about? The sun?

Even Boo can’t stand the sun. Lee watched the child’s reflection in the rearview mirror. The cute midget sat stiff and straight, hands folded in his lap, legs dangling over the edge of the seat. Eyes closed to the sun.