“The light stays on, Miriam!”
Miriam screamed in the darkness. “It’s shining into my bedroom,” she said, digging her stubbed big toe into the carpet for comfort.
“Close the blinds and the drapes,” I said.
“I have done that, but there is still a glowing beam making its way into my bedroom from that confounded light.” She turned it off in a huff.
I forced my way next to her and flicked the light back on. “The light stays on!” Miriam clenched the robe in her hands and darted back to her room, slamming the door.
At midnight Chaz noticed a small figure dash beneath a rack of clothes in the juniors’ department. A vacuum cleaner hummed behind him, but the young woman running it didn’t notice he was there. He bent beneath the clothes and saw a small boy smiling at him. The young woman rushed beside Chaz and spoke in rapid Spanish to the boy, yanking him from beneath the clothes. She pulled him to the wall and made him sit up against it.
“He can’t be in here,” Chaz said, hoping she understood English.
“What are you going to do about it?” Her English was fine.
“They told me nobody can be in here. That’s all I’m saying.”
She was angry. “Miss Glory’s got somebody at her house right now, so I didn’t want to ask her to watch him.” She was getting loud. “I got nowhere to take him tonight. If I don’t bring him here, I lose this job.” The little boy began to shrink beneath the clothes again, upset by his mother’s voice.
Chaz rubbed his head. “How is that my problem?”
“You’re making it your problem!” she said, flailing her arms. “He won’t hurt nothing, and when I’m done we’ll go home.”
Chaz was getting angry. He had the potential to make some decent cash, and this woman was jeopardizing that for him. “He can’t be up here,” Chaz said. “He could break something and get hurt.”
She lashed her arms toward him. “Then what do I do with him?”
Chaz didn’t understand how her problem was ending up on his shoulders or why he was responsible for her kid, but that’s how it landed. “I’ll take him into the security office. But don’t bring him to work again.” She watched as he led the little boy down the stairs.
“That’s an ugly shirt,” the boy said, eyeing the security uniform.
“Thanks, I like it, too,” Chaz said.
“I didn’t say I liked it. I said it was ugly.”
“I know. That was sarcasm.”
“What’s sarcasm?”
“Never mind,” Chaz said. “What’s your name?”
The boy jumped down each stair, making a popping sound every time he landed. “Donovan. What’s yours?”
Chaz opened the door to the office. “Chaz.”
“That’s a dumb name.”
“Thanks.”
“Hey, Raz,” Donovan said, laughing.
The kid was getting on his last nerve. “It’s Chaz.”
“Okay, Spaz.” This was the very reason Chaz had never liked children. Donovan saw leftover pizza sitting in a box on the desk and opened the lid. “Is this yours?” he asked, picking up a piece before Chaz could answer.
“Go ahead,” Chaz said. “You can have that piece since you got finger smutz all over it.” Donovan stood beside the desk and devoured the first piece, reaching for a second. “Didn’t you eat dinner?” Donovan shook his head, and cheese dangled from his bottom lip onto his chin. He ran his shirtsleeve over his mouth. “I assume that’s your mom out there working?” He nodded. “What’s her name?”
“Mom,” Donovan said.
“What do other people call her?”
The little boy shrugged.
“That’s okay,” Chaz said. “I’ll find out later. I can tell she really likes me.”
“No she don’t,” Donovan said, his mouth full.
“I know. That was sarcasm again. How old are you?”
Donovan held up five fingers. “How old are you?” he mumbled through a mouthful of pizza.
Chaz held up two fingers on one hand and four on the other. “Do you know how many that is?” Donovan shook his head. “Twenty-four.”
“That’s old. You’re old,” Donovan said.
“So far you’ve done wonders for my self-image,” Chaz said. “Is your dad working tonight?” Donovan shrugged and took another bite. “Do you have a dad?”
Donovan shrugged again. “Some ass I’ve never met.”
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Chaz said.
“Why not? My mom says it all the time.”