Counting by 7s(38)

We are both in the hallway and he’s lugging the bag of bottles. He should leave them if he’s going to go up on the roof, but he doesn’t.

I don’t say anything because he’s older and can’t stand me. And also because I rarely talk now.

He’s only here cleaning up Dell’s because of me and my problems.

There’s a stairwell at the end of the corridor, and a sign indicates that it leads to the roof.

I wish that Quang-ha would put down the bag of bottles. I think he’s trying to prove something to me, like maybe that the big bag isn’t too heavy for him. But I know that it is.

I’ve lifted more things today than I have in the last six months.

Quang-ha goes right up the narrow steps. There is a door at the top with a sign that says: ROOF ACCESS FOR MAINTENANCE

WORKERS ONLY

I don’t think we qualify, but Quang-ha just pushes the door open anyway. The sun is sinking, but outside it is still bright. There are ten skylights and ten dirty old tarps.

So Dell isn’t the only one with interior shades of gray.

I can see that Quang-ha is confused.

I point to the left side of the building.

“Over there. The third one is his living room.”

He isn’t going to argue with me because after over a month of living together he knows I really only talk to state facts.

Quang-ha still has the garbage bag as he moves across the hot roof.

Again, I follow him.

I’m not sure why. I’m his little kid shadow and I can see that I’m only making everything worse.

There are bricks that hold down the corners of the tarps, and when we reach what is Dell’s unit, I lift one.

Quang-ha then bends over and, with his free hand, pulls on the dirty piece of canvas.

But the trash bag slips from his other hand and the bottles spill out and one crashes right at his feet.

Green glass shards go flying and several pieces land on the clear plastic of the newly uncovered skylight.

The Old Me would have screamed from the crash.

The New Me expects these kinds of things.

The New Me is actually surprised that we weren’t cut up from the airborne shards.

Quang-ha was angry before. Now he’s really angry. He starts to pick up the broken glass.

I move quickly to help.

Standing over the skylight, I see that three glass pieces have caught the sun. They send small spots of color down into the room below.

I glance over at Quang-ha. He sees it too. I say:

“It’s like a stained-glass window.”

Quang-ha is silent, but he takes a beer bottle and breaks it. He then positions a piece of amber glass on the surface.

A chunk of orange-brown light now hits the carpet below in Dell’s place.

We exchange looks.

But we don’t say anything.

And then we go to work covering the entire skylight.



We end up breaking all of the bottles to get enough glass pieces.

I find this to be strangely enjoyable.

I can tell Quang-ha feels the same way, even though he is silent while we smash what appears to be the result of a real drinking problem.

When we finally finish, we go downstairs.

Quang-ha opens the apartment door and we both can see right away that the room has taken on a totally different quality.

The light.

Chunks of green and amber filter down from above.

What was an ordinary and soulless feature is suddenly interesting.

We’re standing there staring up at what we’ve done when Pattie comes in. I don’t want her to be mad, especially at Quang-ha. I say: “It’s temporary.”

I’m surprised when Pattie only says:

“Quang-ha, you can arrange the furniture if you have a better idea how it should go.”

I’m not surprised when he does.



Quang-ha puts everything in a different place, setting the couch and the chairs on an angle. He doesn’t follow the lines of the rectangle room; he makes his own shapes.

And when he’s done I want to say:

“There is a qualitative difference in the visual effect of the room.”

But instead I say:

“The room looks better.”

Quang-ha just shrugs, but I can see he’s not scowling anymore.

This is the first thing we’ve ever done together, and I realize that it feels strange.

For both of us.

And I’m forced to admit that being in a room with a teenage boy who appreciates the effect of shattered glass slices of color makes me feel better about the world.





Chapter 35





Dell pulled his name out of the mail slot for #28, replacing it with a slip of paper on which Quang-ha had artfully written Nguyen.

He then made a beeline for his car, driving away just moments before Lenore Cole pulled up to the curb.

He headed straight for the closest bar, which was called the Hammer. Most people in Bakersfield went to the Hammer when they crashed their car or lost electricity in a heat wave and had all of their ice cream melt.

The bar was a misery magnet. No one put on their best sweater or their skinny jeans to go to the Hammer.

That’s why Dell felt at home there.

Now, as he drove into the parking lot, he let out a sigh of relief. He had gotten away from Pattie Nguyen.