The Kindest Lie(71)

At the entrance to the diner, Midnight hung back, skittish like a horse that just got spooked. She held the door for him, and he dragged his feet going inside. She wasn’t sure why.

There were very few customers that night so close to Christmas, and Ruth figured people were out doing last-minute shopping or having pre-holiday celebrations. Midnight chose a stool at the counter and Ruth sat down next to him. A middle-aged woman with a boxy body and a horizontal straight line where her lips should’ve been stood behind the counter looking as if she’d been expecting them even before the jingle of the door. Her green cat eyes got fat as egg yolks the minute they walked in.

“Menus?” she asked, holding one out to each of them.

“No, just ice cream for us, and I think we both know what we want,” Ruth said. On the drive over, they had reminisced about their favorite flavors and how they’d evolved over the years. The diner prided itself on serving throwback treats, like the Popsicles she and Eli used to get from the ice cream truck as kids.

When Midnight gave his order for a peanut butter swirl sundae with chocolate syrup, the waitress began writing on her notepad, but her gaze stayed on them, as if telling Midnight to blink twice if he was in danger.

“Is this your sitter?” she asked Midnight.

“No,” he said in a small, fearful voice.

“I was just wondering.” Her unsettling surveillance suggested they’d broken some unspoken rule by being there. Or being there together. They always went for the mammy caricature.

Ruth forced a fake smile. “I was wondering, too, whether you’re serving ice cream today or an inquisition.” At that, Midnight smiled for the first time since they’d arrived.

Color drained from the server’s face. “I didn’t mean any harm. I was born and raised right here in Ganton and didn’t recognize you. That’s all.”

“Well, I guess we have something in common after all.” Ruth beckoned Midnight to leave the counter and follow her to a booth away from the woman’s prying eyes.

A few tables away, an elderly couple ate cheeseburgers, laughing at some shared joke. A mom and dad tried to wrangle three little kids who were entertaining themselves by tossing tater tots at each other.

She’d missed out on those parental rites of passage, but now she sat opposite Midnight, who dangled his chocolate-dipped cherry over his mouth and flicked his tongue at it, watching it swing from its stem. Ignoring her own melting Popsicle, she watched him, but didn’t correct his table manners. She wanted to ask if the server had given him trouble before, but she didn’t. He seemed relaxed and happy now.

This time she had a taste for a raspberry Popsicle, since it reminded her of ones that she and Eli used to get from the ice cream truck. Once she finished, she held the stick between her thumb and index finger. “Watch this.”

She blew on it hard as if she were extinguishing birthday candles. The stick disappeared and then came back when she blew into the air again.

“What the heck?” he said.

She laughed at his open mouth and wide eyes. “It’s magic. When I was a few years younger than you are now, the ice cream man did this trick for us every week and we’d watch his hands and mouth closely each time trying to figure out how he did it. But it happened so fast and he never shared his secret with us.”

“So how did you figure it out?” Midnight looked under their table to see if the mechanics behind the magic hid there.

“I tried everything I could think of for weeks, and finally I asked my fourth-grade science teacher and she showed me. If I let you in on the secret, you can’t tell anybody else.” She leaned in close to him across the table.

“I won’t tell, I swear.”

“It’s an illusion. The idea is to flip the stick with your thumb and middle finger. Put tension on it like this, making sure it’s lined up perfectly with your hand and wrist.”

She reached for his arm to demonstrate, and it sank limp and heavy in her hand. Quickly, with his other hand, Midnight pulled his sweatshirt sleeve down to cover it. Gently, she lifted the sleeve and exposed the deep red discoloration of his skin. Dry. Waxy. When she looked up at him, his head dropped. “You can tell me what happened. Who hurt you?”

At first, he hesitated. She waited until he began to speak. “Some stupid boys. They were messing with Corey and fighting him. Just ’cause . . . he’s Black. But I helped him. And then they got mad at me and set my arm on fire.”

She shuddered, picturing the flames lapping at his skin, alive and crackling, singeing it until it peeled from his bones. In a country enlightened enough to elect a Black president, its original sin still infected so many, even children. “I can’t imagine what you went through. Corey is lucky to have a friend like you.”

“I guess. A lot of people blamed Corey even though it wasn’t his fault.” Midnight rotated in his seat, pointing his body in the direction of the woman behind the counter. She sprayed glass cleaner on the outside of the display case while shooting furtive glances in their direction.

“Forget about her. You did the right thing and it cost you a lot.” She patted his arm. “Not many people have the courage to stand up to a crowd and defend someone who’s been treated unfairly.”

“Your brother did.”

“My brother, Eli? I don’t understand.”