Don't Plan to Stay

by Kaje Harper

  It took a while to convince a guard they really should come help. By then, Rock, Todd, and Earl were long gone, and Leon’s face would never be the same again. He didn’t snitch, and I stuck closer to Harry after that.

  “I owe you,” I agreed. “But I can’t make eight hundred bucks out of nothing.”

  “You saved a grand. You said so. And you never spend any money.”

  “I did this time, all right? I bought a dog. And vet bills. And—” And a tattoo I’m never going to regret. “I don’t have it!”

  “What am I gonna do?” Leon turned in a circle, tugging at his wild hair. “I gotta go! It’s my mom! You gotta help me!”

  “Fuck, man, I have two hundred. You can have that.”

  He shoved me, hand slammed against my shoulder. I staggered a step, shocked. Leon didn’t have a violent bone in him. “Do something!” He looked around wildly. “Ask your boss. He’d loan you, right?”

  “Like hell.” I was not asking Nate for one red cent.

  Leon grabbed my arm. “I bet he likes you. Everyone likes you.”

  Not Rock, not Earl. Not a lot of guys I beat, guys who lost money on me. And not Nate. “Wait a bit. My boss’s brother will be back soon. He might do it.” I figured he would, if I asked. Wasn’t sure he should, but Adam would do just about anything for me. Like I would for him. It’d stick in my craw, but I’d ask.

  Nate cleared his throat loudly. I’d been so up in my head I hadn’t seen him approach. “I have to ask you to take this outside, guys. You’re disturbing the customers.”

  Heat flooded my face. I peered around the end of the display, hoping to call his bluff, but three shoppers were all looking my way. I gave a little wave meant to be reassuring and ducked back. “Sorry, Nate.” Man, it was hard to say that. “Leon can wait in his car for a bit.”

  Nate glanced back and forth between us. “For a bit what? What’re you planning?”

  “Until I can introduce him to Adam,” I said, with a little snark.

  “You don’t think you’ve done enough for Adam without adding your— friends?” I wasn’t sure if the missing word would’ve been about prison, but Leon stiffened.

  “Leon’s a good guy.”

  Nate dropped his gaze down to where Leon’s fingers were clamped tight on my arm. “I bet he is. Anyway, Adam’s running a couple errands for Dad. Won’t be back for a while.”

  “I don’t have a while,” Leon muttered. “Ask him now, Donnie.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. But one thing I learned in prison was that my pride didn’t count for that much. It wouldn’t keep me alive or get me out quicker. Sometimes I had to bend. I cleared my throat. “Nate, I need to borrow six hundred dollars. Please.”

  “You what?”

  “Borrow? Money? Look, Adam said you’d pay me minimum wage. Six hundred is… about eighty hours’ worth? Hell, I’ve been putting in twelve-hour days. You might owe me almost that much already.” That was a comforting thought.

  “Adam never ran that by me.”

  “Oh. Well, I need the six hundred. Leon needs it. Family emergency. We can talk about payback later?”

  A middle-aged guy rang the bell on the counter, an impatient jangle. Nate shook his head. “Wait.” He headed for the front. I twisted out of Leon’s hold and followed him.

  I stood by while Nate rang up the man’s purchases, then stepped closer and put my finger into the cash drawer to keep it from closing. “I owe Leon. And you know what? I think you owe me.”

  “I didn’t ask you to come work here.”

  “Oh, not for the work. Although I won’t say no to being paid.” I hooked the drawer wider. “Did you know Conyers played me the recording of your statement after the accident?”

  Nate flushed. “He said it was confidential.”

  “You remember what you said?” I remembered, every word. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he did run the light. He’s reckless, crazy. I’m sure it was his fault…”

  “I don’t really remember.” He glanced away. “I was mad. And scared for Adam.”

  “So, of course the next day, you asked to take it back?”

  “Well, no. I said I didn’t know what happened.”

  “You remember you asked me to drive that night? You remember you were supposed to, but you got smashed with your friends instead?”

  “Some. Not everything. I hit my head.”

  “You remember saying ‘He’s not stopping!’ right before the dumb senile bastard blew the light?”

  “No. Not really.”

  “But you were willing to bet it was my fault? To tell Conyers that?”

  Nate stared into space, not answering me.

  I pulled the drawer open and lifted out the tray. The big bills were underneath. I took them out and counted out six hundred. I put the rest back in and pushed the drawer shut. “So now it’s your call. Conyers isn’t out there gunning for me, but you could say this is theft. Go ahead and call the sheriff on me if you want.”

  I pushed past him, while he still didn’t look at me, and went back down the aisle to Leon. “Here.” I put the money in his hand, then pushed up my jeans and took the cash out of my duct tape hideaway. “And two hundred.” That left me with about thirty and the change jingling in my pockets. But I felt free. “Go on now, give that to Johnny, and go see your mom. Hug her for me and tell her the C word’s not allowed, you hear?”

  He closed his eyes for a second, his fingers clenching on the bills. “Thanks, dude.” He hugged me suddenly, a fierce embrace. “If you ever turn your fucking phone on, I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “You do that.”

  He hurried out of the store. As he got in the waiting car, I recognized his friend Johnny at the wheel. Leon waved as Johnny pulled out of the lot.

  I was pretty sure Leon was telling the truth about why he needed the cash. Mostly sure. He was a piss-poor liar. Either way I felt light, like something dragging me down had let go. Leon’s debt or all the words I’d bottled up about Nate? Both, maybe. It might not be worth getting busted for theft, but it was a good feeling all the same.

  I untied my green apron and pulled it over my head. Folded it neatly on an empty shelf. Without looking back, I went out through the staff door, shrugged into my jacket, stepped into boots, and left Lindberg’s Nursery and Crafts.

  I was tempted to just start walking. Stick out my thumb and see where it took me. But I had a dog depending on me up at the house. And maybe a man that did too, in his own way. I turned and started down the icy path toward them.

  As I reached the edge of the back lawn, Willow bounded toward me through the snow. Her tongue hung out of her laughing mouth. I bent and rubbed her ears, and she rolled over but didn’t pee. Progress was being made. “Come on, silly girl,” I said. “Let’s go in where it’s warm.”

  Adam’s dad stood at the foot of the back steps. He raised a hand in greeting as I approached. “Donnie! Surprised to see you here. Did the boys send you here to help?”

  “Help? No.”

  He blinked at me. I decided I might as well get it over with. “I just stole six hundred dollars from the cash drawer and walked out.”

  “And came straight to me?”

  “Well, first I gave the money to an ex-con friend of mine. But then yeah.”

  Mr. L tilted his head, looking me over, up and down a couple times like I was some kind of painting he wasn’t sure was good or not. “There’s got to be a story there.”

  Willow whirled off through the snow, dashed back and plowed to a halt, spraying our legs with white. Mr. L reached down to pat her, and she turned adoring eyes up on him and panted. He murmured, “Such a good, silly girl.” She sat, her tail thumping clouds of powder onto her butt. Then he looked at me. “It’s cold out here. Come on in. Coffee’s brewing.”

  “I told you I ripped you off. You want me to come in and have coffee?”

  “And a cookie. I just took them out of the oven.” He beckoned with his fingers like come along, grabbed Willow’s
collar, and went inside, holding the door open for me to follow.

  The kitchen smelled amazing. A tray of slightly irregular gingerbread men sat out on top of the stove, and the coffee pot was full. He poured us each a big mug without asking and pointed at the cookies. “Sample those before I poison our customers.”

  I remembered the tradition. Adam’s mom would bake those cookies and have a big plate of them at the store the day before Christmas. These looked the same, although not as pretty. I couldn’t help taking one and biting off its head. The familiar crunch of cinnamon and ginger brought tears to my eyes. I pretended to ponder, nibbling more, giving myself time before I said, “Almost as good as ever.”

  “Best I can hope for.” His tone was dry but steady. We both knew how hard this was, but we were trying our best. He cleared his throat. “Now, son, tell me about why you stole Nate’s money.”

  “And yours.”

  He shook his head. “If you’d come to me today and said you need six hundred, I’d have given it to you.”

  “I consider it a loan. Forced loan, I guess.”

  “No force needed. So, tell me.”

  I didn’t want to go into a sob story about the poor ex-cons who can’t go see their moms who might have cancer, or why I was so damned broke even with six months of living in squats so I didn’t have to pay rent. I didn’t want any kind of pity. I said, “My friend had to pay off a debt right away, and Nate was too busy to listen. And Adam wasn’t there.”

  “Nate’s had a lot on his shoulders the past year. Adam too, of course, but Nate carried the store and finances and all when I wasn’t able to give it my attention. He’s been stressed for far too long. Nothing’s come easy for him, all these months.”

  I didn’t want to feel ashamed either, so I said, “Seems like it was easy for him to tell Conyers what a loser I was. When it mattered.” Then I clenched my jaw shut, because I hadn’t meant that to go anywhere but between Nate and me.

  Mr. L sighed slowly. “I think a lot of things were badly done back then. We didn’t support you the way Laura wanted. Nate was angry, I was scared, and money seemed like it was going to be a total disaster. Then you cut us off cold, and anyway we couldn’t fix things.”

  I couldn’t talk around the lump in my throat. I’d cut them off before they could cut me, because they hated me and I deserved it. Or so I thought. I shrugged.

  We drank our coffee and didn’t look at each other. Willow lay on the floor beside Mr. L’s chair, chewing on her paw. He bent to stop her, digging something sticky out from between her pads. Eventually he straightened. “All we can do is go forward. That’s all we can ever do. I’m trying now. Are you?”

  “Gonna be tough to go anywhere if Nate reports me for theft.” I almost wanted him to. All my anger and resentment for years was slipping through my fingers. Mr. L was right that Nate wasn’t a bad guy. He was protecting the things that mattered to him, like the store and Adam. Not his fault I was outside that circle. If he turned me in now, I could comfortably hate him again.

  Jesus, biting your nose off to spite your face much?

  “You know Nate won’t do that,” Mr. L said.

  The door opened, and Adam walked in on a blast of arctic air. “Nate won’t do what? Here’s the groceries, Dad.” He set a bag on the counter.

  Mr. L stood and drained his mug. “Won’t mind if I go work a few hours instead of you two. While you bake the cookies and try to make them come out of the cutters without looking like zombies.”

  Adam glanced between us but didn’t comment as his dad pulled his jacket back on and told Willow to be a good girl. After the door closed behind Mr. L, Adam turned to me. “Do I want to know what that was about?”

  “Not really, no. Nate loaned me six hundred bucks for a friend of mine. Your dad was okay with it.”

  “Of course he was. Hell, we probably owe you that much in wages by now.”

  “I really don’t need wages, not if the store’s struggling. I’d rather call it a loan as long as you can wait to be repaid.”

  “We’ll ask Nate, but he wouldn’t have done it if we couldn’t afford it. We still have more medical bills coming, but six hundred shouldn’t make or break us.”

  I went to him and wrapped my arms around him. I buried my face in the chill of his neck until his skin warmed. I found myself kissing that little patch over and over, brushing my lips against smooth and rough, opening them to taste Adam on my tongue. He held me, and let me have my way.

  It was weird that I felt so shaky. Letdown, I guess. I’d thought this was going to be my big drama, all the old angers pouring out. I’d have bet I’d be walking down the highway with my thumb out and my dog alongside instead of sitting here having cookies, with Adam’s father calling me “son.” He’d never done that before. I’d have remembered.

  Eventually I let Adam go. He pulled off his coat and stuffed his gloves in the pocket. “So. Dad said more cookies. I bought a ton of flour and sugar and cinnamon and stuff. We can’t let it go to waste.”

  “Heaven forbid.” My voice caught in my throat.

  “There’s a recipe.” Adam went and looked down at the cookbook. He stared a moment too long so I stepped close behind him. Along the margin in Mrs. L’s scrawly handwriting were the notes: 15 min not 20 unless you want them hard. Donnie likes crunchy, so leave a few in longer.

  Well, that didn’t help. I cleared my throat. A couple times. “So, fifteen minutes or twenty? I vote twenty.”

  Adam elbowed my ribs, rougher than he needed to but that was okay. “You’re the only one who likes to risk breaking a tooth. Fifteen.”

  “We could split the difference.”

  He turned and grabbed my collar, tugging lightly. He didn’t kiss me, but he almost smiled. “Fifteen. I’ll be watching you. Now, come on. These suckers won’t bake themselves.”

  Chapter 12

  Adam

  “I am sooooo ready for five o’clock.” I rotated my shoulders and grinned at Dad, who was working the register. We’d always closed at three o’clock on Christmas Eve, but this year we’d added a couple more hours for sales. It’d been smart. The store was still busy at four thirty, although it was beginning to thin out a bit. We were making money. All of Mr. Forrest’s fancy stained glass ornaments were gone, and so were almost all the cookies.

  I reached for the last one, but Dad smacked my hand without looking away from the sale he was ringing. “Those are for the customers.”

  I pretended to pout, but I’d had my share. Donnie and I were never going to be professional chefs, and we’d devoured all the ones that came out with pinheads and broken legs.

  Despite the harried customers and a cool ten feet of distance between Nate and Donnie for the last two days, I was in a good mood. Dad was in the store, chatting to people as he rang their purchases and bossing Nate and me around like usual. I think we all had moments when Mom’s absence hit home and we faltered, but mostly we were a family again. I could finally breathe after months underwater.

  “Why don’t you head out?” Dad said to Nate. “We’ll close up. Get home to that little boy of yours.”

  Nate started taking off his apron before Dad was done talking. “Thanks! We’ll be over tomorrow. Merry Christmas Dad, Adam.” He glanced over at Donnie, who was showing someone how a cross-stitched bag-keeper worked, and then he turned and headed for the staff door. Of course, he’d have had to yell across the store or walk over there, but a little of the shine rubbed off my family day.

  “Give him time,” Dad said.

  “They need to chill and try for the peace on Earth. Jesus.” I hadn’t asked exactly what went down, that day we baked cookies. Sure, Nate always worried about money, and a six hundred dollar loan was a lot, but after watching Donnie work hard for us day after day, he had no excuse to keep thinking of my guy as a screw-up. Donnie had insisted on taking room and board out of what I wanted to pay him, which meant he chose to still owe three hundred. He’d pay it back, I had no doubt. Even if he shouldn
’t have to. But it wasn’t just Nate. Donnie acted weird too.

  “Maybe you can ask for that as a Christmas present.”

  “I might.” My brother might be a stick in the mud, but I loved him. And Donnie? Not quite two weeks of slowly untangling the guy he was now from my gilded memories showed me he hadn’t changed at heart. He had new flinches and darknesses I didn’t know how to read or avoid, but he was still the guy who’d spend money he barely had to save some stray dog. He was still the guy who would charm an old lady and send her off smiling as he carried her stuff to her car. Still the guy who sat quietly with his arm around me and let me chatter on about my life and my dreams, the guy who grinned when I turned his “I want a tattoo” into “we should both get a tattoo” and wanted me to join his adventure. Still the guy who lit all my nerve endings like firecrackers.

  As if he knew I was thinking about him, he looked over from where he was helping a lady pick out silly holiday socks. That look. That was the one I’d been working and living for all the best years of my life. To hell with it being too soon to fall back in love. There was no falling, just inevitability.

  “We should take home a tree,” I said.

  “Huh? There you are, sir, Happy holidays.” Dad handed the customer his bag and turned to me. “Do what?”

  “A fake tree. Not a real tree or all the old ornaments and, you know, all of Mom’s things.” I swallowed and blinked. We’d left those beloved boxes in the closet by unspoken agreement. Clearing my throat, I went on, “But we have five fake trees here all decorated up fresh. We should bring one to the house.”

  “I don’t know.” Dad rubbed his lips, the lines in his face deeper. The next customer stepped up to the counter and he served her, while I packed her holiday teapot and cups carefully into paper wrap. When she was gone, he said, “I thought we agreed no tree.”

  “But that was before. You know Tommy would love to open presents under a tree when he comes over. And I want one for Donnie.” I didn’t have to remind Dad how Donnie always loved our Christmas tree. Mom gave him a little fake tree one year, I think when he was thirteen, but then he and his mom moved twice that year, and it got left behind somewhere. He wouldn’t take another one. But he used to sit and stare into ours.