The Kindest Lie(70)
“It’s too late for breakfast,” he said, pointing to the eggs she was cracking into a bowl. “It’s suppertime.”
Midnight rested his elbows on the counter, and she handed him a whisk.
“French toast for dinner is special in a way. It’s breaking the rules, kind of like when you eat dessert before dinner.”
He seemed to accept that explanation, even be pleased by it. She didn’t know how to cook too many dishes, and relied on Xavier for most meals, but luckily, she’d watched Mama enough to remember how she did the French toast. While she heated Crisco oil in a skillet, Midnight mixed. The ripples made by the whirling liquid seemed to entrance him, and he beat it faster and faster. Ruth smiled, thinking about how Mama’s arm fat would jiggle every time she beat anything while cooking.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Just thinking I might have to take you home with me. You’re even better than my electric mixer at getting rid of lumps.”
He whipped even harder, getting so carried away that some spilled over the side of the bowl, but she didn’t bother to wipe up the mess.
Something about this scene in this kitchen fed a fantasy for Ruth. Finding Lena’s apron stuffed in a drawer, she put it on, tying it at the waist. She practiced moving around the small kitchen as if she belonged there, humming while she dipped half slices of bread in the mixture.
In this moment, cooking with Midnight at her side, she felt like a mother. Comfortable. Sliding into it as if she’d been doing it forever. The pan sizzled when she dropped the bread slices in the hot oil, and she delighted in having this young boy at her hip while they watched each piece turn golden brown.
“Do you know how to make heart-shaped pancakes?” Midnight asked the question when they sat down to eat.
“You don’t like your French toast?” Had the edges come out too crisp or the center undercooked and squishy? Maybe she’d added too much milk or used too few eggs.
“It’s good. I was just wondering about heart-shaped pancakes, though. Corey’s mom makes that for him all the time.”
“Oh, your friend you do science experiments with. Well, I’ve never tried any fancy shapes. Maybe next time.”
Midnight helped her clean the kitchen, mopping up gritty sugar and egg off the countertops. When they finished, she pointed to the clothes surrounding the open suitcase. “Put these away.”
He picked up a turtleneck and sloppily folded it. “I’m going to Louisiana. Granny said so.”
“Maybe it’s just for a short visit.”
“No. To live. Forever.”
Midnight’s words fell like stones.
This kid exaggerated, stretching the truth until it ripped in two from the pulling. Believing him took extraordinary leaps of faith that he hadn’t earned with her yet. But he’d hinted at this during dinner the other night, and Lena hadn’t denied it or clarified her intentions.
“Did your granny give you a reason?”
“Not enough money to feed another mouth. That’s what she said. I guess we have cousins there I can live with. Nobody wants me here.” He gestured to the empty suitcase. “Might as well leave now if they don’t want me.”
Everything Midnight said about the move seemed on the nose and intentional, as if he thought she might have influence with Lena. All kinds of businesses had grown sluggish in this bad economy. People like Eli and Butch lost jobs and struggled to find new ones. But were things bad enough for Lena to consider shipping Midnight south? Anything Ruth said would have sounded hollow, so she sat silently on the couch. She couldn’t promise him that his future didn’t involve a move south.
He had a lost look about him, and she could tell he moved through life rudderless, without his mother to anchor him. Out of the corner of her eye, Ruth caught Midnight staring at her. Of everyone he knew in Ganton, he’d called her, practically a stranger. But she understood it. Sometimes, when you met a nice person who showed you a little attention, that person became a placeholder for your mother.
“You look a lot like your mom,” she told him, glancing at the mantel portrait, grasping for the right thing to say.
He shrugged. “I was just a kid when we took that picture.” She had to laugh because Midnight spoke as if he were an old sage looking back from the other side of a long life.
“I bet you miss her a lot.”
“One time she went to McDonald’s every day for like a month so I could get all eight of the Transformer figures in the Happy Meal. She wouldn’t let me eat all the fries ’cause they’re bad for you, but I got to keep the toys.” His eyes lit up so bright when he told that story, but they burned out fast and he got quiet again.
On impulse, she said, “Put your coat on. Let’s go get ice cream for dessert.”
“Seriously?” Midnight launched himself from the couch, punched the air in delight, and bolted for the door. “Corner Diner has the best ice cream.”
The light from the diner glowed in the night like a firecracker against the dark sky. Midnight swung the car door open before she could turn off the ignition. Ruth got out and followed him quickly to the front door, her childhood memories the wind at her back. After a BLT or an open-faced roast beef sandwich, they always ordered dessert, chocolate ice cream in a waffle cone for Eli and strawberry in a cake cone for Ruth.