I have been a petulant child, waiting for my daddy to come and tell me I am worth something.
Only Tatum, enmeshed as he is in June’s suggestions and her healing arts, only Tatum is trying to be an adult. Trying to take care of everyone.
47
After we dropoff Cotton, Tatum drives us to the hardware store. “What are we getting?” I ask as he pulls into a parking spot and turns off the car.
“Glum was hungry.”
“She was?”
He sighs and looks at his hands on the wheel “I told you when you got here that I get tired of doing stuff. Remember, I left the dog crap on the carpet?”
“I remember.”
“That was before you even came, and the neglect is just getting worse and worse. Brock buys groceries. He does. And June bakes bread. But besides that, it’s like they deliberately can’t see what’s happening around them. They refuse to see it, and Meer won’t, either. He’s useless at tasks, even when you tell him what you want him to do.You’rehelpful, but you’re only temporary. And we’re always fighting.”
I nod.
“And Kingsley hasn’t given us any money since March.” Tatum bites his lip.
“I figured something was up with expenses.”
“Anyway. Weeks ago, I told Meer to buy dog food. I said it was his responsibility. I gave him the money for a whole month’s worth, and I just told him to buy it. Take the car, or figure out how to bring it back on a scooter—whatever. His problem to solve. AndI asked him to feed her, too. Morning and night. I said I wasn’t doing it anymore. Because I was mad at him. I thought I was teaching him responsibility or something. LikeIwas his dad. Anyway. Glum might have gone for the birds anyway, with the door left open. But we haven’t had any dog food in the house for two days. Iknewwe didn’t, and I told Meer to get it. But he forgot again. I should have done it myself.” Tatum’s face crumples and he puts his palms over his eyes. “I’m never going to get out of here if I can’t save any money. And I’m never going to save any if I keep paying to run this house and put gas in the scooters and feed people and feed Meer’s birds and feed our dog. But Ihaveto feed the dog. Not just pay for the food but feed her myself. Because no one else does it.”
“He feeds her sometimes,” I say, because I’ve seen Meer do it.
“Sometimes isn’t enough to take good care of a dog. She hadn’t had anything but table scraps in two days.”
“And June won’t do it?”
“Not anymore. I want to leave this place so badly, but I can’t, if Glum isn’t going to be all right. She hasn’t been all right, even when I’m right here. And I don’t know where I could go that I could takeher.”
I reach out and gently stroke his hair. It’s soft, despite its wildness. I undo my seat belt and climb halfway across the front seat.
I wrap my arms around Tatum. I kiss his temple as he sits with his hands over his eyes.
He lets me.
And we sit like that for a while, me curled uncomfortably on top of the gear shift, my arms around his neck and his hands over his face.
It begins to rain and the car windshield dots with raindrops.
Then Tatum turns.
I kiss him gently. It feels terrifying and true. We are finding our way to each other in the middle of darkness.
“I got your note,” I whisper. “Please don’t regret you wrote it.”
“I don’t,” he whispers back.
He kisses me again and this kiss, long and warm and serious, this kiss dissolves all our anger. It’s me forgiving him and him forgiving me and the two of us deciding that what’s good between us is one hundred times more important than the bad.
His lips are terribly soft and his cheeks are rough with sunburn and stubble. I think about how he’s this otherworldly boy, and at the same time so hardworking and loyal, so strong in a crisis. He is a miracle of contradictions that I may never understand, but he is here in my arms, his mouth on mine, his hands on my face and in my hair.
Then I stop thinking of anything at all.
—
