Marital Bitch(62)

“Yeah, well, maybe some of us are just that good,” his body gives a false bravado, but his eyes look desperate. The longer I stand here with this kid, the more I remember little things about him. His dad’s gone-- has been for years-- and it was just he and his mom until Maya came along. They were already struggling when they’d found out he knocked her up. By then, his hopes of college and a future outside of Southie had all but disappeared. He reminded me so much of Colleen back then, wanting out of Southie at all costs.

Standing here with this kid, I’m reminded of how lucky I am. I feel like I need to do something like hug my mom and dad right now; but I’m thirty-five so I don’t dare voice that to anyone. Not even the wife needs to know when I get emotional. She’s liable to ask me if I need a tampon. Why do I love this woman again?

“You doing okay?” I ask. He nods with a determination that doesn’t meet his eyes. “Tell me the truth, Joe, or I can’t help you.” I urge him to talk because I really do want to know what’s going on with this kid. I know he’s still doing the big brother thing at the Boys & Girls Club, but that doesn’t mean he is doing okay. After his daughter, Jane, was born he transitioned from little brother to big brother in the program. I still look after him as much as I can, though.

I was there the day he found out his life was totally fucked. I was there the day he started on as a big brother to some poor kid who had it worse off than he did. I was there the day his kid was born, and I want to be there if he needs me now.

Kids like Joe aren’t just a nuisance in the neighborhood. They’re good kids who grew up with nothing, had to work with nothing, and were expected to live off nothing. Dad always said it was moments like this that made him want to be a cop. I used to think he sounded like a girl saying it, but looking at Joe, I know what he means. I want to make a difference in this kid’s life; even if it is something as small as buying the formula for him. Everybody deserves a helping hand.

“It’s just tough,” he says. “You know that scholarship you got me?” I nod. It wasn’t really a scholarship. It was more like a gift from me and James, but Joe doesn’t need to know that. It wasn’t all that much, either. We just put $500 in each so he could get started at the local community college.

“I don’t want you thinking I just didn’t want to go or something, but I had to return it. I can’t take classes right now. I’m working two jobs because Maya don’t want to work. Something about bonding or some shit.” I know better to ask him about his mom. She’s been relying on welfare for years and hasn’t worked since he was a small child. This kid has the weight of the world on his shoulders; I could never be mad at him for making the best choices he can for his family.

“Well,” I say, “you have to do what you have to do, kid. But you know that scholarship is there when you’re ready to use it. It won’t expire.” He nods and sighs. I’ll figure out a way to help him later.

“Can’t decide which one to get?” he asks. I shrug.

“They’re so expensive,” I gripe before stopping myself. I like being friendly with the kid, but we’re not friends. My job alone sees to that.

“Buy one of the clearance ones,” he suggests, leaning over and pointing at a bunch of pregnancy tests with bright orange labels showing a cheaper price. They look generic in brand and their boxes are pretty beat up, but they’re marked down to $4.99. I reason with myself that they wouldn’t sell them if they didn’t work. Besides, how complicated can this be?

“Sweet,” I say, grabbing a box. Joe smirks.

“So, Officer Catch Some Snatch is gonna be a dad, huh?” I stare at him incredulously.

“What did you just call me?” I ask, half confused and half irritated. The kid always has some creative name for me, but this takes the cake. He gulps and laughs nervously. I dismiss it and ask him if he’s still at his mom’s. He confirms and I tell him to stay out of trouble, leaving him behind to pick out his own damn formula.

Up at the register, I pay for my item and a $50 gift card as well. The cashier makes a side comment about being unaware they were still carrying that brand. She must be surprised this place is selling them so cheap. I smile and tell her I was happy to get a good deal. She seems uncomfortable so I don’t engage her further.

“So,” I address the cashier after she rings me up. “This gift card is for the teenage kid that walked in a few minutes ago. His name is Joe. He’s got blond hair.” The cashier just stares at me like I’m speaking a foreign language, so I lean in to emphasize my point.