The Kindest Lie(56)
Mama looked around the dimly lit room as if she were appraising the value of everything in it and had settled on a low figure. “Sometimes leaving is the best way. The only way.”
What could Ruth say to that? Surviving Yale and Langham seemed small and inconsequential compared to what Mama had seen and endured. There were so many unanswered questions that Ruth needed her grandmother to answer.
She went to her bedroom to get her purse and returned to sit beside Mama again. “That breaks my heart, and I get why you had to leave. I even understand why you wanted me to leave Ganton without my baby. You wanted what was best for me. But now, I’m back. I’m here. I need you to help me with this.”
Pulling the crumpled paper from her purse, she handed her the registry consent form. Mama stared at the paper but didn’t move.
“Here. Take it.”
“What is this?”
“Just read it, please.”
Hesitantly, Mama took the form. Fear crossed her face as she read.
“What is it? Tell me what’s got you so spooked right now.”
“Where did you get this rubbish?” Mama threw the form on the floor.
Taking a deep breath, Ruth said, “The county clerk’s office. I need to fill it out if I have any hope of reconnecting with my son.”
The way her grandmother looked at her, Ruth wouldn’t have been surprised if Mama had gone outside and yanked a switch from a tree to whip her, had it not been such a bone-chilling winter day. Even as full-grown as Ruth was.
“Mama. Please. That day, when you left with the baby, where did you go? Nowadays you can drop a baby off at the hospital or fire station, no questions asked. But there was no safe haven law back then. You had to take him somewhere.” Ruth moved close enough to smell the Jergens lotion her grandmother lathered on her arms and legs after her nighttime bath. “Where, Mama?”
Her eyes glazed over, unreadable. “I took him to Jesus. He’s with good, God-fearing people. That’s all that matters.”
Ruth swallowed past a hard lump at the base of her throat and tried to ignore what sounded like mockery from her grandmother. “This whole thing was off the books, wasn’t it? There were no adoption papers, were there?”
Mama didn’t answer, and Ruth took her silence as confirmation.
Nineteen
Midnight
Izzy bummed loosies off people and she usually scored a whole pack of cigarettes by nightfall. Her blue-gray eyes crossed each other and sometimes she stumbled over her own feet. That’s how she got the name Dizzy Izzy. And when she opened her mouth to talk to you, her tongue poked through the gaps where her missing teeth should have been. Pancho said people with no teeth gummed the inside of their jaws, and he knew this since his great-grandpa did it.
Every other Friday, Izzy camped out in front of the gas station. It stayed busy on Fridays. Granny always said the money from payday must be burning holes in people’s pockets.
“Can you help me out? I just need a couple dollars to get me something to eat,” she said, telling a lie, since everybody knew she only wanted cash for cigarettes.
They didn’t like to get close to Izzy because she smelled like rotten meat left out in the hot sun for weeks. But that didn’t stop Corey from moving closer and saying, “I’ll get something for you to eat. Be right back.” He had money because he still earned a weekly allowance for doing chores around the house and sometimes just for bringing home good grades.
Two guys in red bandannas leaned against the outside wall of the gas station, one of them pouring Red Hots in his mouth. Midnight recognized them as local gang members, or at least that’s what people said. And he knew people could be wrong. The one who wasn’t eating elbowed his friend and pointed to the boys. They moved in front of the door, blocking the entrance. When Pancho tried to push his way between them, the taller one stood with his legs spread wide and said, “Hey now, where are your manners?”
Both men wore Air Jordans that looked new enough to have just come out of the box. Red with chunky white soles and thick tongues. Their matching red laces undone.
Once the guys tired of taunting them, they stepped aside and even opened the door for the boys to walk inside. That small gesture of civility resembled respect, and it made Midnight and his friends walk taller, maybe even strut into the gas station.
Greasy hot dogs rolled on a grimy rack and nachos covered in orange cheese sauce sat under the harsh glare of a heat lamp. A thrill surged through Midnight as they bumped into each other in the narrow aisles. Just the mere anticipation of the mischief they could find here made his blood jitter even before he knew what form it might take.
Sebastian plucked a bag of dill pickle chips off a display and tossed it across the aisle to Corey. “Think fast.”
Everybody knew Corey had the best arm in town and that’s why he had gotten the reputation for being the greatest pitcher in Ganton Little League history. Not bad at catching, either, he leapt off the floor and snatched the bag from the air, bumping into an old lady as he landed. “Oh, sorry,” he said. She rubbed her hands along the front of her coat like he’d spilled something on her.
Never having an idea that didn’t live in somebody else’s head first, Pancho scooped three Snickers bars and hurled them at Midnight in rapid succession. “Think fast,” he said, parroting Sebastian.