by David Skuy
She gave his arm a squeeze. “Thanks, but you relax. You’ve had a long day.”
“So have you.”
“I want to do it. I really, really do. I want to do this — for you.” She took a deep breath. “But tell me. How did your job go? Today was the first day, right?”
“Great. I made twenty dollars.” He didn’t tell her what happened to the money.
“I’m so proud of you. I can’t believe how awesome you’ve been lately. Of course, I can believe it because you’re always awesome … but you know what I mean.” She gave him another hug and kissed his cheek.
“You watch tv or game,” she said, “and I’ll be back soon to teach that kitchen some manners.” She patted his arm, and then left with her purse over her shoulder.
He looked at the tv and the computer. He couldn’t, not now; it felt wrong, like he’d be wasting his time being lazy — a Do-Nothing. He couldn’t remember when he had such an overwhelming urge to move, as if his butt would burst into flames if he so much as sat.
He couldn’t go for a run because his mom would be back soon. He tried to remember how many times he’d run lately. The first time was Saturday, or maybe Friday if he counted chasing that bus, although maybe that shouldn’t count because he’d been so slow. Probably a good idea to keep track of his runs so he’d know for sure. He taped some notebook paper together and drew a calendar for the next three months, and then taped it to the wall over his desk in his bedroom.
He felt his stomach where his belly hung over his belt. He was so flabby and gross it was … gross. Marcus had been making them do sit-ups and push-ups as a warm up. He told them a real athlete needed a core of iron. Usually, Lionel faked them. He looked up at the sheets of paper. There was room at the bottom. He wrote Exercises under the calendar. He’d put a star for every day he did a hundred sit-ups and fifty push-ups.
Lionel figured he should do the push-ups first because they were harder. He lowered himself down. His arms shook and his stomach touched the floor before his nose. He hated his body.
Lionel got to five and felt his strength giving out. He managed a final one — and collapsed to the floor.
He did one more — and collapsed again. He pictured Nick laughing his face off.
He kept going, taking a rest every two or three push-ups. “Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen …” he grunted out.
His iron core had a ways to go. Right now it was more like jelly.
He imagined his chart filled with stars and check marks — every day. A sea of them, from end-to-end.
“Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen.”
And he imagined how he’d look — and who he’d be.
Friday: 3:55 p.m.
Lionel walked into the café, not quite sure how he felt — both happy and sad. He’d gone hard at it Tuesday and filled another bin himself. Afonso had worked on the coffee roaster. On Wednesday, he filled another half a bin. Kiana missed Tuesday and came late Wednesday after her track practise. Deepak could only help Wednesday for an hour because of a piano lesson. When Lionel left on Thursday, Gwen told him he’d done an awesome job. Maybe he had — it sure didn’t look like the same place.
He couldn’t believe it was Friday already, and that explained the sadness. He liked working here, and not because of the money. He liked talking to Georgina and Gwen, and he liked listening to Deepak joking about everything, and Afonso was smart and a bit more serious like him. They both liked gaming, too. He’d even talked to Kiana a few times.
This had been a perfect week at school. No one had said a word to him: no teachers asked him a question, no kids bumped into him in the hall or chirped him. Nick had given him a few looks that scared him a bit, like he was suspicious of something. But Nick was acting weird with everyone. He was also hanging out with Kiana and Rashmi a lot more during recesses and lunch. It bugged Lionel that Kiana was with him, but at least Nick wasn’t bullying anyone.
To top off the week, he had enough cash to get the new controller, and he could game all weekend and finally crush the skeletons and the ogre and those disgusting vultures.
“Lionel, looks great up there,” Georgina said to him. “I can’t believe it’s the same place. You guys are amazing. There’s lots of cool stuff, too.”
“The keeper pile got pretty big, actually,” Lionel said. “We found some dishes and coffee cups, and some old photos of people drinking coffee and tea in cafés all over the world.”
Lionel especially liked the old pictures, and while sorting them he imagined living back then, in another country, on some other continent even — as another person.
“Afonso and Manuel got the old coffee roaster working too,” Lionel added. “Manuel said it was over eighty years old. Apparently, Binny’s gonna roast his own beans and sell them to restaurants or in grocery stores. That’s the plan, anyway.”
She smiled. At first, Georgina had freaked him out with her jet black hair and piercings and tattoos and leather boots, but they’d started saying hi to each other and then she brought him a smoothie a couple of times. When he left last night they talked for a good fifteen minutes.
She had two big dangling silver earrings engraved with skulls, which he’d never seen before.
“Where’d you find those?” he asked, pointing to the earrings.
“You’re so sweet to notice. Aren’t they amazing?” She gave them a twirl, and they swayed back and forth a few times.
“Very amazing,” Lionel said. “I’ll just head up. I think we’re basically finished, depending on what Gwen wants to do with the keeper stuff. We have to sweep and organize a few things, and then we’re done.”
She pouted. “Does that mean I won’t see you around?”
“I’m still walking Britney, so …”
Her pout remained. “You have to promise to visit me, okay?”
He knew she was only being nice. Still, it wasn’t too often someone asked him to visit. Even a pretend invitation was better than no invitation at all. “I will. I only live down the street.”
She began to clean some glasses with a cloth. “You’d better, or I’ll be mad at you.”
He waved and started upstairs. Half way up, he heard voices. Gwen was talking.
“… like I promised. Look. We kept the valuable things, what looked important.”
“It was all important,” Binny thundered.
Lionel stopped in his tracks.
“Where do some punk-ass kids get off throwing out a lifetime of collecting? Do you understand what they did? I had it all planned out. I had tiles, plans … ideas — and now it’s all gone, the dream is dead, wrecked. I can’t believe you lied to me about my mom to get rid of me. I can’t believe I fell for it.”
“I didn’t lie,” Gwen said. “Your mom seemed upset and not feeling well and …”
“Yeah, right. I can’t believe you were part of this, Kiana,” he continued.
Lionel felt so dizzy he had to grab the banister. Binny wasn’t just angry. He was in a rage. Lionel’s throat went dry. He sounded madder than Brent — than his dad. Binny would kill him if he went up there. He took a step back.
The stair creaked.
“Who’s there?” Gwen called out.
He froze. Stupid old stairs. He waited a few moments, and then very slowly took another step back. He had to get away, and he’d never come back or even walk through the Market, not ever.
“Lionel, come on up.”
Gwen was looking at him, her face grim and eyes tight. “Please. It’s fine.”
His throat was too dry to answer.
“It’s okay, Lionel. Trust me,” she said tenderly. “Please. We’re just talking. That’s all. Nothing to worry about, I promise.”
She was obviously close to tears. He couldn’t run away now. Kiana would know. He followed her into the room.
Binny spread his arms out. “The only thi
ng you didn’t throw out was Britney,” he said.
“I wouldn’t hurt Britney,” Lionel said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Dad, there were a lot of broken things … but look at all the stuff we kept,” Kiana said. Her cheeks were marked with tears.
“I’m looking. Not seeing much,” Binny said.
“There’s all this,” Lionel said. His chest felt so tight he had trouble breathing. “The coffee roaster works. This chandelier could be worth a lot of money because it’s glass, and Italian. There are those dishes over there, and that table … and that screen. The floor’s been cleaned … and I think it looks good, with the wide boards and … We found these pictures, and maybe you could use them — in the café?”
He had to stop. His throat had gone dry again.
“The space is so big and bright,” Gwen said.
“We didn’t throw out anything nice,” Kiana said.
“We can hold parties up here, rent out the space,” Gwen said.
“You can start roasting your coffee, like you planned,” Kiana said.
“The chandelier is beautiful. It’ll look amazing downstairs,” Gwen said.
Binny held his hands up. “You can stop for a second.” He cast a sorrowful look about. “Lionel, sorry for yelling. I know you wouldn’t hurt Britney. It’s just … just … I can’t believe you threw out my stuff.” He rubbed his chest with his right hand. “I swear my heart’s gonna burst. It’s like my ribs are crushing me. I’m serious. It’s like I’ve been emptied out, like my entire life’s been taken from me.” He seemed helpless.
“I feel like that a lot,” Lionel said to Binny. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to … I thought you wouldn’t want the stuff we threw out, like the newspapers and tiles, because a lot of the tiles were broken or not matching, and the papers were old and yellowy and they smelled kinda dusty. And some of the furniture wasn’t really … I mean you couldn’t use it because it was broken; but maybe you could’ve fixed it and I didn’t think of that, too busy being stupid.”
He lowered his gaze, determined to say what he felt and then leave. This wasn’t Kiana’s fault, or Gwen’s, or Deepak’s or Afonso’s.
It was his fault. He’d done most of the work.
“I know what you mean, that empty feeling,” he continued. “It’s like you know everyone else has something and you don’t, and you don’t even know what it is they actually have or how to get it. You just know you want it. For me, I’m always feeling tight, in my stomach, or my chest, or my head, like there’s something pushing on me, and then for some stupid reason I cleaned out my room one night, got rid of some junk I had since I was a little kid, put away my clothes, even cleaned the floor — everything. And that night, I don’t know why, the pushing and the pain went away. I felt like I was floating on my bed — for real — and that night I thought about why I felt so much better. I thought and thought until it just hit me: stuff is just that — stuff. Why keep stuff around if it doesn’t make you feel good?”
Kiana was looking at him intensely. It unnerved him. He was making a fool of himself.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I think I tried to do here what I did at home. Don’t be mad at Kiana. She was at track a lot, and she tried to stop me. Afonso spent most of the time fixing the roaster, and Deepak … he had a piano lesson. Gwen was more shocked than anyone when she saw it. I didn’t listen, though. Every time I tossed something broken or old I felt better. I knew it wasn’t mine. I did it anyway. It wasn’t their fault. I picked most of the stuff to toss. I messed up — as usual.”
For once in his life he wished he could say what he meant without sounding like an idiot — just once. He took a deep breath. The sadness in the room ripped at Lionel’s heart; he could actually feel it, like a hook pulling him in.
A tear fell down his cheek. Kiana was crying too. Gwen rubbed her eyes.
“I know I have a problem with …” Binny lowered his gaze. “This hoarding thing has taken over. Not sure when, not sure why. One day I woke up and I had a room full of broken, mismatched tiles and boxes of old newspapers.”
Tears now fell freely down Gwen and Kiana’s cheeks.
Binny’s voice became distant and flat. “I’m the one who’s made a mess of things. I’m the idiot who stuffed this place so full of junk he sucked the life from it. And now I’m acting like the biggest jerk in the world to a great kid like Lionel. Sorry, Lionel. No excuses. Please, forgive me.”
Lionel stared at him. This made no sense. Forgive him for what?
Binny managed a smile, his sad eyes twinkling ever so briefly. “You’re right. Most of that stuff, almost all of it, was garbage — busted, ugly garbage. I used to talk so much about using it to fix up the café that I even convinced myself that I was gonna do it. Once in a while the reality hit me and I’d get so scared and that empty feeling would get so big, I swear I thought it would swallow me up.”
Lionel also knew what that was like.
Binny looked back to Gwen. “We had such plans, didn’t we? We were gonna make this place special; people were gonna come from all over, rich people, poor people, regular people, seniors, students — everyone — because it was so beautiful. We were even going to roast our own coffee. And what did I do? I spent years piling garbage into this room, obsessing over it, terrified by it. Beautiful? Binny’s Café is a dump.” He buried his face in his hands.
Gwen and Kiana walked over to him, their feet barely making a sound, just tiny squeaks, and he wrapped his arms around them. Lionel knew he should look away. He should give them some privacy. He couldn’t tear himself away, though. He couldn’t. For once in his life he was close to a real family, with people who cared for each other. It warmed him, filled him with a gentle heat, and he closed his eyes and felt another tear fall.
He didn’t care if they saw.
“My new life begins today,” Binny said. “I promise. I ain’t slaving to a pile of garbage anymore. I can breathe better already, honest. I was so scared of not having this stuff, and now that it’s gone, I feel ten times better, a hundred times. I feel free of it — and all it took was for Lionel to throw it out. Man, I’m ridiculous.”
Binny had a crazy grin on his face, his eyes alive and dancing, and he took three strides and gave Lionel a bear hug. Lionel tensed involuntarily. Binny squeezed and wouldn’t let go until Lionel relaxed his body and hugged him back.
“I knew there was something special about you,” Binny said, letting him go. “I could tell. ‘Here’s a kid that’s gonna make a difference,’ I told myself. Well, you sure did! Look at this place. Amazing. I love it. Love, love, love it. Tomorrow we start. I promise. Out with the old and in with our new chandelier.”
They turned to the stairs. Deepak and Afonso walked in, along with their dads.
Friday: 4:05 p.m.
Rajeev rushed forward, stopped, and scanned the room.
“I am very much impressed,” Rajeev said, head wagging side-to-side. “I most sincerely am. Truly. It is an utter transformation, nothing less. Something ugly, a mess, broken and battered, is now beautiful. These floors, the windows, this space — remarkable. I am even a bit overwhelmed … and not a little ashamed.” He hung his head. “My store is a disgrace: chipped shelving, dust, dirty carpets, and the stockroom is a disaster. Most of the time, Deepak and I can’t find the shoes for the customers.” He took a deep breath and put a hand to his cheek.
“We could help you,” Deepak said. “Maybe some new carpets and shelves? I don’t know. But we could do something — even paint.”
“Son, you are speaking wisely. We’ll make old Mister Adler proud, yet.” Rajeev turned to Lionel. “I understand you are the mastermind behind all this?”
“We all helped,” Lionel stuttered.
Deepak waved him off. “Lionel did most of the work.”
“Hardly,” Lionel said. He collected himself.
“I’d be happy to help you fix up your store.”
“I would be delighted to work with you,” Rajeev said.
“Me too,” Afonso said.
“Don’t forget me,” Kiana piped in.
Binny took hold of Manuel’s elbow and pointed to the coffee roaster.
“That’s the craziest idea I ever had,” Binny said. “I was going to roast my own coffee and use it for the café, and maybe even sell it around town. Had the bags designed and everything, even the name — Binny’s Beans. Can’t believe how much trouble I went to take it apart and haul it up here. I even had to put some metal joists under the floor to support it. Big dust collector is what it is. But you get major props for making her pretty.”
“We did more than that,” Afonso said. “My dad and I …”
“It was all Afonso,” Manuel said. “I just gave him some pointers and found the spare parts he needed.”
Lionel had scrubbed it with special cream for twenty minutes yesterday to get it clean.
“She’s almost as good as new,” Afonso said. “Had to put in a new motor and fix the wiring, but otherwise it was in good shape. You can start roasting any time.”
“Seriously?” Binny said.
“Try it out,” Afonso said.
Binny hit the switch. The roaster began to hum, and the roasting chamber began to spin around.
“Let me pay you for the parts at least,” Binny said, in a serious tone.
“You won’t pay us anything,” Manuel said. “On the other hand, if I were to receive a free pound of beans, perhaps I wouldn’t object.”
“You’ve earned yourself a free lifetime supply,” Binny declared. He bounded over and shook Manuel and Afonso’s hands.
Manuel cast a sideways glance at the roaster. “I’m kinda thinking like Rajeev here. My garage is a mess, tools all over, and the grease is so thick I leave every day covered in it. I have old tires I’ll never use in a million years, and cans, and screws, and … I could start my own landfill site.”
“I could help you, too,” Lionel said.