That day wasn’t Tuesday, it was Thursday. Thursday brought a different crowd to the coffee shop and it was busier. But the man who hurried in with a large box of Styrofoam cups was noticeable. There was an energy about him that disturbed the air. My eyes followed him.
Oliver and I always sat close to the door, but that was on Tuesdays when it was less busy. That day we were forced to sit close to the cash register.
He was obedient in a way that was unnatural for a boy so young as he sat, his little legs hung far enough over the edge of the chair that he could swing them like the other kids in the shop were doing, but he was still. He didn’t fidget or make noise. I worried about it. I created a number of theories but worrying was all I could do. Worry and lavish him with affection.
Being closer to the counter allowed me to hear the conversation between Sandy and the man.
“Thanks, Terry. I appreciate you bringing these. We ran out sooner than I thought.”
“Yeah. No problem.” His voice was gruff. He was short with her.
“Everything, okay?”
“No. Asher and Darius broke the damn TV with their fighting. I can beat them both, but it won’t make the TV come back. We’ll never be able to afford another anytime soon.”
Darius? My heart raced. The name was like the snapping of a hypnotist’s fingers, waking me from a trance. I had given up on Darius. I had given up period.
Oh god. I had been fucking my father and liking, no, loving it.
I was scared to look up and give any energy to the thought of Darius. Father made it clear if I even breathed the word Darius, I’d be thrown into the psych ward so fast. I had big plans to try again—things had to be different now that Aleksander was in love with me—but I hadn’t attempted yet because I wasn’t sure.
“Know what he had to say for himself?” the man continued. “My apologies. Next time I won’t get out of the way, and I’ll let Asher break my face with the baseball bat instead. Like he’s the king of Egypt or somethin’.”
I bit my cheek to stop myself from laughing. That had to be Darius. It was a Darius thing to say.
“Maybe we’ll get another donation,” she said.
“Excuse me,” I said, sliding into the conversation, using all the Randall charm I could drum up. I was about to make my first business deal. I was filled with hope I never thought would return. “I couldn’t help but overhear—do you accept donations for something? An organization? Maybe I can help.”
“We run a boys home,” Sandy said. I tingled all over. “We pull in money from the farm, but it’s mostly run off the donations we receive. Terry, this is Steven. He comes in with his little boy all the time.”
I didn’t want to give away my identity. Eventually, I told her my name was Steven.
“I see. What happened?” I asked.
“A baseball bat to our good expensive TV.”
I pulled Oliver up and settled him against me. His hands were sticky with cinnamon bun and were not pressing into my shirt. “We—my husband and I—would like to make a donation. Our company is always looking for good charities to support. We’ll fund the new TV.” I had cash. I’d been squirreling some away. I used Aleksander’s credit card for most other purchases. He told me they were ours.
“You look kinda young to be making donations like that.”
I rocked Oliver, glancing at him—he was getting tired—to convey that if I’m old enough to have a child, I’m old enough to make donations. But for good measure, I added, “Sugar Daddy” and winked.
He looked at my ring finger and that confirmed it for him.
“Okay. I’m kinda desperate. Don’t want to miss the football game in color. If you can afford it, I’d appreciate the generosity.” He told me the amount.
“Baba, I’m sleepy,” Oliver said as I opened my wallet, balancing him on my forearm, and fished out what he’d asked for.
“I know, Eaglet. We’re leaving soon.”
He’d stuck his thumb in his mouth again. Without missing a beat, I grabbed the spare soother I always kept in my—clean—pocket and popped it in his mouth.
“You’re good at that, Steven,” Terry said, pocketing the cash. “Oh here. I guess you’ll need my information for your accountant if this is a business expense.”
I’m glad he said that. I wouldn’t have known to ask. “Yes. Name. Address. Phone number would be great too.”
Sandy provided us with a pen and paper.
