The Fire Between High & Lo
Page 10

His lips slightly parted and he tilted his head, looking my way. “Your mom’s Julie Silverstone?”
I nodded.
“And she left you out here?”
I nodded again.
“That bitch,” he muttered standing up from the bench with his hands in fists. He started for the front door and as he opened the screen door, he paused. He took the cigarette from between his lips and held it out to me. “You smoke pot?” he questioned.
It wasn’t a cigarette at all. I should’ve known by the smell. “No.”
His brows furrowed. “You said Julie Silverstone, right?” I nodded for the third time. He placed the joint in my hands. “Then you smoke pot. It will keep you warm. I’ll be back with your bitch of a mother.”
“She’s not a,”—the door slammed before he could hear me complete my sentence—“bitch.”
I held the joint between my fingers and shivered in the cold.
It will keep you warm.
I was freezing.
So I took a puff, and choked on my own coughing.
I coughed hard for a long time, stomping out the joint into the ground. I didn’t understand why anyone would do that—why anyone would ever smoke. That was the moment I vowed to never smoke again.
When the man came out, he was dragging Ma along with him. She was hardly awake, and sweaty.
“Stop yanking me, Ricky!” she yelled at the man.
“Shut the hell up, Julie. You left your damn kid out here all night, you fucking crackhead.”
My fists formed and I puffed out my chest. How dare he talk to Ma like that! He didn’t know her. She was my best friend, other than my brother Kellan. And that guy had no right to talk to Ma like that. Kellan would’ve been so mad if he heard that guy. Good thing he wasn’t here and was with his father on some kind of ice fishing trip.
I didn’t know people could fish when there was ice out, but Kellan told me all about it last week. Ma said ice fishing was for weirdos and losers.
“I told you, Ricky! I ain’t using any more. I—I promise,” she stuttered. “I just stopped here to see Becky.”
“Bullshit,” he replied, pulling her down the steps. “Come on, kid.”
“Where are we going, Ma?” I asked, following behind my mom, wondering what was going to happen next.
“I’m driving you two home,” the man replied. He put Ma in his passenger seat, where she closed her eyes and slumped over. Then he opened the back door for me, slamming it shut after I climbed inside. “Where do you stay?” he asked, climbing into the driver’s seat and driving off, away from the curb.
His car was shiny and nice, nicer than any car I’d ever seen. Ma and I took the bus everywhere, so being in his car kind of made me feel like royalty.
Ma started hacking and coughing, and tried her best to clear her throat. “See, that’s why I had to see Becky. My landlord is being a dick and told me that I didn’t pay the last two months! But I did, Ricky! I paid that asshole, and he’s acting like I didn’t. So I came to see Becky to get some money.”
“Since when does Becky ever have money?” he asked.
“She didn’t. She didn’t have money, I guess. But I had to see. Because the landlord said I can’t come back if I didn’t have the money. So I’m not sure where we should go. You should let me go check with Becky really quick,” she muttered, opening her passenger door as the car drove.
“Ma!”
“Julie!”
Ricky and I shouted at the same time. I reached for her shirt from the backseat, and he pulled her shirt sleeve, jerking her in his direction, shutting the door with her.
“Are you crazy?!” he hollered, his nostrils flaring. “Dammit. I’ll pay your bill tomorrow, but tonight you’ll stay at my place.”
“You’ll do that, Ricky? God, we’d appreciate that a lot. Wouldn’t we, Lo? I’ll pay you back, I’ll pay you back every cent of it.”
I nodded, feeling the heat finally kick in from the car.
Warmth.
“I’ll grab the kid some food, too. I doubt you fed him.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter shaped like a hula dancer. As he flicked the lighter on, the hula dancer moved side to side. I became hypnotized with the movement, unable to take my eyes off of it. Even when he finished lighting the cigarette, he flicked it on and off nonstop.
When we arrived to Ricky’s apartment, I was blown away by how much stuff he had. Two sofas and a huge arm chair, paintings, a huge television with cable, and a refrigerator filled with enough food to feed the world. After eating, he set me up on one of the sofas, and I began to drift to sleep, listening to Ma and him whisper in the hallway nearby.
“He has your eyes,” she mumbled.
“Yeah, I know.” His voice was filled with spite, but I wasn’t sure why. I listened to his footsteps grow closer to me, and opened my eyes to see him bending down next to me. His hands clasped together and he narrowed his eyes. “You’re my kid, huh?”
I didn’t reply.
Because what was I supposed to say?
A sly smirk fell from the side of his mouth, and he lit a cigarette, blowing smoke into my face. “Don’t worry, Logan. I’ll take care of you and your mom. Promise.”
***
At four in the morning when I finally came down from my high, I laid in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Me: Are you up?
I stared at my phone, waiting for the ellipses to appear, but they didn’t. When my phone rang, I took a breath.
“I woke you up,” I whispered into the receiver.
“Only a little,” Alyssa replied. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I lied. “I’m fine.”
You’ll be dead by twenty-five.
“Was it your mom or your dad?”
She always knew. “Mom.”
“Was she high or sober?”
“High.”
“Did you believe whatever she said or not?” I hesitated, and started flicking my lighter on and off. “Oh, Lo.”
“Sorry for waking you. I can hang up. Go back to sleep.”
“I’m not tired,” she yawned. “Stay on the phone with me until you’re able to fall asleep, all right?”
“All right.”
“You’re okay, Logan Francis Silverstone.”