Custody

While You Were Gone

Photo by Skyler Smith on Unsplash

Ella stubbed out her cigarette, grabbed Sammy by the throat, hard enough to get his attention, not hard enough for him to get really pissed, and told him: “Don’t fuck up while I’m gone.”

She’d be back in a week.

Sammy knew Ella didn’t care if he cracked in half, she meant not to fuck up with their younger brother Cary.

Ella was 19 when mom died, so she got custody of her two younger brothers.

Now she was 22, had a boyfriend, Dale, with some kind of rickety motorhome that he drove to concerts and stuff.

Ella hugged Cary when she left, told the kid she loved him about a thousand times.

Sammy shook his head, it was bullshit.Kid was 9, he didn’t know shit about love, except for Legos.

She just didn’t want Cary to tell anyone she left a 15 year old in charge of him.

Cary had a different Dad than Sammy and Ella, he was gone when Cary was still flat on his back in a hospital warmer.

Sammy renamed Cary “Harvey,” because he knew it sounded tougher.

When Sammy was sure that Ella and Dale weren’t going to turn around, he said “Harvey, I’m going out for a while, don’t know when I’ll be back.”

He said it because it was the truth, but it was a dumb thing to say, because Cary’s fat little face started trembling like the water underneath a bobber with a bluegill nibbling, and then these silent tears ran down his face.

Sammy was proud.

He taught Cary to cry quiet, so Ella wouldn’t scream more.

Sammy sat on the sofa next to Cary, watched a cigarette butt disappear between the cushions.

“I’ll bring ya with me, Harv, if ya stop crying.”

Cary sniffed half the air in the room up his right nostril, wiped his face with the sleeve of his Bluey sweatshirt, and nodded yes.

He was just a quiet kid.

Mom had been a loudmouth, Ella was too. 

Sammy had been planning on shoplifting–dumbasses at Carman’s didn’t put their cough medicine behind the counter– but it was trash day. Maybe him and Harvey could find something decent. Over near Barnsworth people threw out lawnmowers this time a year, Sammy was pretty good at fixing them. Sometimes they weren’t even that broke.

They walked down Woodgate, Cary smiling like they were going on a great adventure.

Sammy wouldn’t say it out loud, but he liked it when his brother was happy.

They found a coffee maker that looked ok and Dale might buy, so Sammy sprinted it back to the house, and while he was gone Cary found some stained, worthless football cards that he loved and shoved in his pockets.

Sammy cut over Courtland, headed toward Barnsworth, looked back and Cary had pulled a stuffed armadillo from a ripped black garbage bag. From a distance it looked like it had maggots on it.

“Lose it, Harvey, we’ll find you something better than that.”

Cary’s face jiggled, but he set down the plush toy like it was glass and shuffled to catch up to Sammy.

There was construction on Courtland blocking their cut to Barnsworth, so Sammy cut through High Rise Row, a string of apartment complexes that blocked Barnsworth from the industrial park.

The apartments weren’t really high rises, just four stories, but that was tall for this neighborhood and all the kids called it that.

Sammy started looking in the dumpsters.

Cary whined “I wanna look,” and Sammy grabbed Cary and held him up to show him that there wasn’t anything of interest in the dumpster.

They repeated that til Sammy found an empty trumpet case.

He carried that with him until they got to the last apartments in the row, The Amberview Village.

A sign Sammy had never seen before was in the small patch of grass in front of the rental office.

Amberview Now Welcomes Pets.

Sammy pondered the sign, walked over to the dumpster, set down the trumpet case, looked in. 

There was a bike pedal, a bunch of tightly cinched bags, and some large, empty kitty litter containers.

“You know we used to have a cat before you were born, Harvey?”

Cary shook his head.

“He was cool. All black with one white ear.”

Cary smiled and nodded like he could picture it.

Sammy leaned on the dumpster.

One of mom’s boyfriends would take him and Ella up to Frankenmuth once a month for chicken.

It was like this weird German town, it was kind of always Christmas, and the chicken was fantastic.

They’d stay overnight in this little Travellodge, get an ornament each the next day, and drive home.

And Mom would always leave the key under the mat so Mrs. Gagen could feed Surrender.

“C’mon, Harvey. Follow me. Don’t say anything, ok? If you’re good we’ll go back to that football card bag and load you up.

They walked up to the door of the Amberview farthest from the rental office. 

Cary took his football cards out of his pocket and looked at them. 

Sammy thought he’d probably be content to do that all afternoon, but he knew if he left the kid and went into an apartment building that the tears would start again.

A woman came walking toward the door and Sammy grabbed Cary’s hand and smiled.

The woman smiled back and held the door for them.

When they got inside, Sammy said.

“It’s a real treasure hunt, Harvey. See the welcome mats? Lift them up. If you see a key, that’s the treasure. Say “treasure,” ok?

Cary nodded.

Sammy flipped and replaced all the mats on his side, then worked the row down toward Cary.

When they had done the whole first floor, Sammy grabbed Cary’s hand and led him up the steps, yanking him hard to get him past the pop machine that grabbed his interest.

Three welcome mats into the second floor Sammy found a key.

“Treasure,Harvey. Stay right here. If anyone comes down the hall, say “Hello.” 

Cary looked both sad that he hadn’t found the treasure and scared that he was being asked to talk to a stranger. 

Sammy used the key to open the apartment door.

He knew he couldn’t carry a TV out, but they would have something worth the trip.

On the dining room table there was a glass jar of hard candy and Sammy immediately knew it was an old person.

Next to the candy was a similar jar with change.

It said “Yahtzee money.”

Sammy had never played Yahtzee, but he knew what it was, and thought he might like to try it if money was involved.

Cary’s voice said “Kitty!”

Sammy turned in time to see a gray striped cat take off out the door of the apartment.

He took his sweatshirt off and poured the change into it, tying the left sleeve like a long bag.

There was a music box they might buy at Gibb’s antiques. Sammy grabbed it and turned around.

Cary wasn’t in the doorway.

“Harv?”

Sammy walked out of the apartment.

Cary wasn’t in the hall.

Shit.

He shut the door to the apartment and ran down the hall, twisting and crimping the sweatshirt to make the change quieter.

He ran upstairs first, thinking that cats loved to climb things.

He bounded down the hall. Could Cary even run this far this fast?

A man opened a door.

“Slow down young man!”

Sammy obeyed, went slowly the length of the hallway and down the stairs, then down another flight.

The woman who let them in was standing by the door, smoking a cigarette.

“I think your cat got out. The other kid chased it.”

Sammy smiled at “the other kid.” They looked nothing like brothers. It would help, one day, somehow. Maybe right now if he got busted stealing change.

Sammy said “thank you.” and walked outside, inhaling the woman’s perfume and menthol smoke. He liked them both. He wished Ella smoked menthols.

“Harvey,” he called.

He walked back toward the dumpsters.

There was a shoe, Cary’s shoe.

Sammy took two big strides forward.

Cary was sitting between two dumpsters, holding the cat, who was happily licking a football card. Whatever had stained them, gravy, whatever, was something that the cat loved.

“We can keep the kitty?” Cary asked.

Sammy smiled.

“Sure, buddy, let’s get him home real quick and name him.”

Cary smiled like Sammy had never seen.

Sammy looked behind them to make sure the smoking girl wasn’t watching, and they headed home, Cary awkwardly clutching the cat while it licked gravy residue or whatever off Connor Barwin’s career defensive stats.

Taking the loose sleeve of the sweatshirt full of change, Sammy slipped it under the cat’s collar and made a cumbersome leash.

Cary was going to cry in a week when Sammy took the cat back and probably got a reward, but if Ella was already home, she couldn’t tell Sammy that he was fucking up.

***