She stepped out again and shone the light straight at him. He threw a hand up to shield his eyes.
“Did I ask you to help?”
“No, ma’am. But it’s something I’m good at. I used to work at a wrecking yard. And the boy’s helped me out a lot.”
“Trevor been giving you money?”
“Yes, ma’am. Just to help me get on my feet. You know, to get cleaned up enough to get a job again. Like that.”
“And now you got a job, you gonna pay him that money back?”
“No, ma’am. I’m not allowed to. I have to pay it forward.”
“‘Pay it forward’? What the hell does that mean?”
He seemed surprised that she was not familiar with the term. And meanwhile it had become something like a normal conversation, with Arlene not entirely having the upper hand, and the fact that she couldn’t get mad at him pissed her off but good.
“You don’t know about that? You oughta talk to him. I’m surprised he didn’t tell you about it. Something he’s working on for social studies class. He could explain it better, though. You know, if you got ten bucks to rent a hoist, I’ll pull that engine and put it up on blocks and tarp it. Save you a bundle.”
“No offense to you personally, but I told Trevor I did not want you around the house.”
“I thought you told him you didn’t want me in the house.”
“What the hell’s the difference?”
“Well. The difference is, one way I’m in the house. And the other way I’m out of it.”
“Excuse me. I think I better go have a talk with my boy.”
But Trevor was so sleepy all he could say was, “Hi, Momma,” and, “Is everything okay?” and when she told him Jerry was out in the driveway taking the truck apart he said, “That’s good.”
And she couldn’t be upset with him. He was just like his father in that respect.
BECAUSE IT IS ALWAYS SO MUCH EASIER to blow off steam to a stranger, she went down to Trevor’s school to have a talk with this Mr. St. Clair. She went to the office first thing, before class started in the morning, hoping she would not even run into Trevor and that he would never have to know she’d been there. The office lady told her to go right up.
She got halfway through the door into his classroom, stopped, and misplaced all that good steam she had built up.
First of all—though it wasn’t the most important part—he was black. She did not feel so very different about black people—it wasn’t that. It was more that she tried so hard to bend over backward to show she wasn’t like that. After a while it became hard to act natural. So she would try harder. And there you have a losing battle if ever there was one. Trying hard to act natural. That can have you chasing your tail until long after the sun goes down.
So, right off the bat it made him hard to yell at. He might think she fancied herself better than him, where really it was more that it was her boy, and also her tax dollars paying his salary. Any teacher’s salary, that is.
So he looked up, and she still had nothing to say. Nothing. One hundred percent card-carrying speechless. And not mostly over any racial issues, either, but more because she had never seen a man with only half a face. It’s one of those things. Takes a minute to adjust to. And she knew if she took even one minute more he would notice that she had noticed his unfortunate scarring, which would be just plain rude. This whole scene had all gone very smoothly in her mind on the way to school, where she had been angry, articulate, and really quite good.
She moved through the room toward his desk, feeling small, feeling like twenty-five years ago, when these desks were too big to fit her. And he was still waiting for something to be said.
“What’s ‘Paying Forward?’”
“Excuse me?”
“That expression. ‘Paying Forward.’ What does it mean?”
“I give up. What does it mean?” He seemed mildly curious toward her, slightly amused, and as a result, miles above her, making her feel small and ignorant. He was a big man, and not only in physical stature, although that too.
“That’s what you are supposed to tell me.”
“I would love to, madam, if I knew. If you don’t mind my asking, who are you?”
“Oh, did I forget to say that? Excuse me. Arlene McKinney.” She reached her hand out and he shook it. Trying not to look at his face, she noticed that his left arm was deformed somehow, the wrong size, which gave her the shivers for just a second. “My boy is in your social studies class. Trevor.”
Something came onto his face then, a positive recognition, which, being connected in some way to her boy, made her like this man better. “Trevor, yes. I like Trevor. I particularly like him. Very honest and direct.”
Arlene tried for a little sarcastic laugh, but it came out a snort, a pig sound, and she could feel her face turn red because of it. “Yeah, he’s all of that, all right. Only, you say it like it’s a good thing.”
“It is, I think. Now, what’s this about Paying Forward? I’m supposed to know something about that?”
Actually, she’d been hoping for a laugh, a smile, something besides his businesslike manner; a bad sense was forming of Mr. St. Clair looking down his nose at her in some way she could never entirely prove. “It has something to do with an assignment you gave out. That’s what Trevor said. He said it was a project for your social studies class.”
“Ah, yes. The Assignment.” He moved to the blackboard and she swung out of his way, as though there were a big wind around him that kept her from getting too close. “I’ll write it out for you, exactly as I did for the class. It’s very simple.” And he did.
THINK OF AN IDEA FOR WORLD CHANGE, AND PUT IT INTO ACTION.
He set his chalk down and turned back. “That’s all it is. This ‘Paying Forward’ must be Trevor’s own idea.”
“That’s all it is? That’s all?” Arlene could feel a pressure building around her ears, that clean, satisfying anger she’d come here to vent. “You just want them to change the world. That’s all. Well, I’m glad you didn’t give them anything hard.”
“Mrs. McKinney—”
“Miss McKinney. I am on my own. Now, you listen here. Trevor is twelve years old. And you want him to change the world. I never heard such bull.”
“First of all, it’s a voluntary assignment. For extra credit. If a student finds the idea overwhelming, he or she need not participate. Second of all, what I want is for the students to reexamine their role in the world and think of ways one person can make a difference. It’s a very healthy exercise.”
“So is climbing Mount Everest, but that might be too much for the poor little guy, too. Did you know Trevor has taken a bum under his wing and brought him into my house? This man could be a rapist or a child molester or an alcoholic.” She wanted to say more but was busy thinking that since she herself was an alcoholic, that might have been a bad example. “What do you suggest I do about the problems you’ve caused?”
“I suggest that you talk to him. Lay down the house rules. Tell him when his efforts on this project conflict with your safety and comfort. You do talk to him, don’t you?”
“What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I talk to him.”
“It just seems odd that you would come all the way down here to find out what ‘Paying Forward’ is. When Trevor could tell you.”
Leaving the room was becoming a more and more appealing option. “I guess this was a mistake.” Obviously nothing was being accomplished here, except for the ongoing process that was making Arlene feel stupid and small.
“Miss McKinney?” His voice hit her back a few steps into a long stride to safety and freedom.
She almost kept walking, but like ignoring a ringing phone, it was too contrary to human nature. She spun around to face this man, whom she openly, immediately disliked, and not because of his face or his color, either.
“What?”
“I hope you’ll forgive my asking this. But is Trevor’s father dead?”
Arlene blinked as though she had been slapped. “No. Of course not.” I hope not. “Did Trevor tell you that?”
“No. He said something strange. He said, ‘We don’t know where he is.’ I thought maybe he was being euphemistic.”
“Well, we don’t know where he is.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry. I just wondered.”
Bewildered now, she struck for the door, and nothing could have stopped her. What a way to feel like a complete idiot.
Not only did she just admit that the father of her child hadn’t so much as sent a Christmas card home, but now she’d have to go find a dictionary and look up the word “euphemistic.” See what he’d just accused her son of being.
It better not have been an insult—that’s all she could think.
From The Diary of Trevor
Sometimes I think this idea is gonna be so great. And maybe it is. But then other times I remember other things I thought would be great. Like when I was real young. Like ten or something. And now that I’m big I can see what a crock it is. So then I think, What if this all bombs out? Then Mr. St. Clair won’t be all impressed with me. And then in a few years I’ll look back and think, Boy, was I stupid.
It’s really hard to know what’s a good idea when you’re growing and these ideas don’t hold still and neither do you.
Mom hates Jerry. Which is funny, because he’s a lot like Dad. Except Dad is cleaner. But if Mom would let Jerry in the house, he’d be cleaner too. Maybe if she didn’t keep letting Dad in he’d look just like Jerry. Maybe, wherever he is, he already does.
Chapter Five
JERRY
He was just getting set to bunk down for the night, and there she was. Like the damn police. Or the landlord of a building whose cellar he might try to use for shelter. Like she’d made up her mind. He was a bug and she didn’t want her damn place infested.
He’d just gotten done on the truck. Taking the engine loose. Not from its mounts, but unhooking all the smog and the wiring. All of which there was way too much of. Not like the old days. The way they made them anymore, like a piece of crap.
And he’d gone into the garage. Rolled out an old Oriental rug in a corner. Against a wall. Barely got his eyes closed.
She came in, flipped on the lights. Made him blink.
“It’s only me, ma’am. Jerry. Just takin’ a quick break. Just a nap. Then I’ll get some more work done on your truck.”
“I know you been living here, in my garage.”
“No, ma’am. Just a quick nap.”
“Then where are you staying?”
“Down at the shop where I work. They let me sleep on the couch in the waiting room.”
“Get up. I’ll drive you down there.”
Damn. There were two bad things about the way she treated him. One was, she was so damn pretty. Didn’t look old enough to have a kid Trevor’s age. Late twenties from the look. And real small and cute, built like a little doll. Until she opened her mouth. Personality like an amazon, someone ten times her size. But she was so damn pretty. If they were in a bar together and he had enough money on him to buy them both a drink…if things weren’t like this, like they really were right now…it wasn’t so out of the question. The other bad thing about her treating him like vermin was that he couldn’t really hold it against her. Couldn’t argue against it, because how? With what?
Getting into her car, her in the driver’s seat, the dome light on as he got in beside her, he saw her face clear. Looking at her, he thought, You and me, we’re not so very different, and maybe you know it. But he knew better than to say it out loud.
They drove in silence down the Camino, the main street of town. A ghost town at this hour. The street was long and deserted, with traffic lights changing color for no reason he could see.
“Damn good car you got here.” Old green Dodge Dart. Serve you forever if you took care of it. Hell, even if you didn’t.
“That supposed to be some kind of sarcastic?”
“No, ma’am. I mean it for a fact. That slant six engine, best they ever made. Couldn’t kill it if you tried.”
“You might want to, though. Sometimes.”
What you got out of her was always harder, colder than what you were set to expect. Pretty lady, though. Cute.
“I know you don’t like me.”
“It’s not that.”
“What, then?”
“Look. Jerry.” Standing at a red light, idling. Even though there was no one around. No one to go on the green while they waited. “I’m trying to raise that boy on my own. No help from nobody. I can’t watch him all the time.”
“I don’t mean no harm to your son.”
“You don’t mean none.” Light turned, squeal of her tires. Just hit the gas too sudden.
She pulled up in front of the Quicky Lube & Tune.
It was cold out there. He didn’t want to get out. Kind of thought he wouldn’t have to. Anymore. No more sleeping out in the cold. He didn’t really have the key to the shop. Would never in a million years have told his bosses he needed that couch to sleep on.
“Thanks for the ride, ma’am.”
“I don’t have anything against you personally. I don’t.”
“Right. Whatever.”
He stepped out of the warm car. Into the wind. A minute later she was behind him.
“Look, Jerry. In a different world, who knows? We could have been friends even. It’s just that—”
He spun around. She had to look at his face. Only for a second, then at his shoes. If only she wouldn’t have looked at his shoes. He hadn’t had enough money to replace the old sneakers. Saw a great pair of lace-up work boots but couldn’t afford them. But tomorrow. Tomorrow would be payday. No, today. It was after 3 A.M. Later today, work boots.
“Pleased to hear you say that, ma’am. The way you been acting, I’da thought only one of us is people.”
“I never meant that.”
“Never meant it.”
She turned to go back to the car. He turned to watch her go. So they both saw it. Like a long streak, starting at the top of the sky. Drifting down, but fast. Lighting up the night like lightning. A ball of fire with a tail.
“Holy cow,” she said. “Did you see that? What was that, a comet?”
“Meteor maybe, I don’t know. When I was a kid, we used to call that a falling star. I used to think if you saw one, you’d get your wish. You know, like all your dreams’d come true?”
She turned back to look at him. All softness in her face. Maybe it had never occurred to her that bums used to be kids. Or wanted their dreams to come true, like everybody.
She said, “Don’t you hate moments like this?”
“What moments is those, ma’am?”
“When you get that feeling like we’re all just the same?”
“No, ma’am. I like ’em.”
“Well, good luck.”
“Ma’am?”
“What?”
“I get my first paycheck today. And I’ll go get a cheap room. Be out of your hair. Your boy won’t be sorry he made the effort. I don’t think you will either. I’ll do just what I’m supposed to do. Pass it along, you know.”
She stood there a long time, like she was trying to decide whether to say something or not. And she said it. “Will you explain to me about that? How that Paying Forward thing goes?”
He kind of blinked. “Didn’t he tell you?”
“I didn’t exactly ask.”
From Those Who Knew Trevor Speak
So, I explained Paying Forward to her. I got me a stick. Sketched it out in the dirt. In the dark. We both had to squint to see. It was cold, but she had a choice. Could have been home in a warm house. That made a difference. How do I know why?
I drew them three circles. And explained them. Like the kid explained them to me. “See, this one, that’s me,” I said. “These other two, I don’t know. Two other somebodies, I guess. That he’s gonna help. See, the trick is, it’s something big. A big
help. Like you wouldn’t do for just anybody. Maybe your mother or your sister. But not nobody else. He does that for me. I got to do it for three others. Other two, they got to do for three others. Those nine others, they got to do it for three others. Each. That makes twenty-seven.”
Now, I ain’t so good with math. But that kid, he worked it out. It gets real big real fast. Like you can’t believe how fast. Up in the thousands in no time.
So I’m on my knees there. Drawing all these circles in the dirt. Counting by threes. Running out of dirt. You can’t believe how fast. And you know, it happened again. And we both saw it. A big comet, or whatever. Did I mention about that first comet we saw? I guess I did. So we see another comet. Falling star. Falling, shooting, I don’t know. But I ain’t never seen two all in one night. It was kind of spooky.
We’re looking at these circles, thinking this whole thing could be great. Except it won’t be. Because, well, we all know it won’t. Because people, they are no good. They won’t really pay it forward. They will take your help, but that’s all.
I know we were both thinking that. And then the sky lit up again. That big comet. The second one, I mean. I ain’t sayin’ there was a third. Maybe I made it sound that way. But two, anyway. That’s a lot. Spooky.
You know, it’s a big world out there. Bigger than we think.
Then she starts to tell me it’s hard for her to talk to that kid. I couldn’t believe it. Telling me. Me. She says he’s just like his father that way. She hates to question him. Can’t get mad at him. Don’t want to seem like she don’t trust him. So things just go by. She just lets ’em go by. She told me all this. It’s like we were…I don’t know…communicating. For the first time. About all kinds of stuff. It was so amazing. I told her I was gonna do big things. Maybe not big to somebody else. But from where I was. Get me an apartment. Drive a Dodge Dart. She said I could have hers. Dirt cheap. I told her again how it was payday. Payday. The day everything changes.
Pay It Forward Page 4