Read Online Baby Huey: A Cautionary Tale of Addiction by James Henderson - Free Book Online
Authors: James Henderson
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noticed I needed one too.
“Lewis, tomorrow you and I’ll go get a haircut.”
He turned and looked at me. “Mama takes me. You think she’ll mind?”
I told him she wouldn’t mind and when we were a block away from the apartment I let him sit in my lap and bring the Caddy in.
* * * * *
Three thousand square feet. Double garage. Three bedrooms. A fireplace in the dining room, an island in the kitchen, and a fenced-in backyard. Doreen just loved the split-level red brick house. And Brad Davis, an old white guy with a Santa Claus beard, liked Doreen, smiling as he focused the conversation her way.
His wife died a year ago, he told her. “I’m moving to New Orleans,” he said, “live near my daughter and my grandchildren.” He pulled a wallet from his gray trousers, showed Doreen pictures of his grandchildren. “I’m going this weekend to look at a house down there, but I’ll be back in two weeks.”
Doreen told him she loved the house. “What you think, John?”
How much? “It’s nice.” To St. Nick: “You say you’re not selling through a bank?”
Looking at Doreen, he said, “No, I can finance it myself.” Then he told her he was an ex-car salesman, thirty-something years, knew all about financing. “Eliminate the middleman. Your credit fairly good, isn’t it?”
“So-so,” Doreen said. “It’s not great, but…My husband’s a banker, I’m a teacher. We pay our bills.”
Brad smiled, told Doreen he’d be willing to work with us, said he’d rather sell it to a young, professional married couple than someone single. Doreen said we needed a few days to think it over, we would let him know when he got back.
Driving home Doreen couldn’t stop talking about how blessed we were to find a Christian man selling a great house.
“He told you he was a Christian?” I said. “When?”
“I knew it when he said hello. You think he wasn’t a man of God he’d be so willing to work with us?”
“I don’t know. I got the impression you reminded him of someone he saw on a porno website. Notice he hardly said anything to me.”
Doreen shook her head. “John, you’re not killing my joy. I won’t let you do it. We’re going to buy that house. We can use that extra bedroom as an office…or a playroom for Lewis.” She grabbed my package. “Or a baby room.”
The light was green but I stopped. “You pregnant? I thought you were taking birth control pills?” A horn sounded and then a SUV passed on the left and flew through a yellow light.
“Watch what you’re doing,” Doreen said. “I’m not pregnant.” We were rolling again. “John, you’d like to be a father one day, wouldn’t you?”
Yeah, I thought, imagining my son planting a foot in her son’s butt when he started acting up.
“Look at you,” Doreen said, “you’re smiling.”
At the apartment Lewis waited an hour to tell me someone at the bank called.
Almost six-thirty on a Friday, the bank was closed. “You write down a name?” I asked him.
In the eight days Lewis and I had spent fishing, playing board games, getting our hair cut, and hanging out at Chucky Cheese, I didn’t mind indulging him for a few hours.
But now, as he ignored my question and continued staring absently at the stupid kid show on TV, all tolerance disappeared, replaced by an urge to take off my belt and whack him.
“You write down a name, Lewis?”
Not looking at me, he shook his head.
“Man or woman?” He didn’t know. “What exactly did he or she say?” He couldn’t remember. “How you know it was someone from the bank?” He managed a shrug, far more interested in those goofy twins who laughed all the damn time.
Doreen sensed my irritation. “John, what’s the big deal? The bank called to confirm that you’ll be there Monday morning. It’s not a problem. Relax.”
That made sense, and I wondered why I was getting upset about missing the call and Lewis not getting a name.
Doreen said to Lewis, “Remember what we
“Lewis, tomorrow you and I’ll go get a haircut.”
He turned and looked at me. “Mama takes me. You think she’ll mind?”
I told him she wouldn’t mind and when we were a block away from the apartment I let him sit in my lap and bring the Caddy in.
* * * * *
Three thousand square feet. Double garage. Three bedrooms. A fireplace in the dining room, an island in the kitchen, and a fenced-in backyard. Doreen just loved the split-level red brick house. And Brad Davis, an old white guy with a Santa Claus beard, liked Doreen, smiling as he focused the conversation her way.
His wife died a year ago, he told her. “I’m moving to New Orleans,” he said, “live near my daughter and my grandchildren.” He pulled a wallet from his gray trousers, showed Doreen pictures of his grandchildren. “I’m going this weekend to look at a house down there, but I’ll be back in two weeks.”
Doreen told him she loved the house. “What you think, John?”
How much? “It’s nice.” To St. Nick: “You say you’re not selling through a bank?”
Looking at Doreen, he said, “No, I can finance it myself.” Then he told her he was an ex-car salesman, thirty-something years, knew all about financing. “Eliminate the middleman. Your credit fairly good, isn’t it?”
“So-so,” Doreen said. “It’s not great, but…My husband’s a banker, I’m a teacher. We pay our bills.”
Brad smiled, told Doreen he’d be willing to work with us, said he’d rather sell it to a young, professional married couple than someone single. Doreen said we needed a few days to think it over, we would let him know when he got back.
Driving home Doreen couldn’t stop talking about how blessed we were to find a Christian man selling a great house.
“He told you he was a Christian?” I said. “When?”
“I knew it when he said hello. You think he wasn’t a man of God he’d be so willing to work with us?”
“I don’t know. I got the impression you reminded him of someone he saw on a porno website. Notice he hardly said anything to me.”
Doreen shook her head. “John, you’re not killing my joy. I won’t let you do it. We’re going to buy that house. We can use that extra bedroom as an office…or a playroom for Lewis.” She grabbed my package. “Or a baby room.”
The light was green but I stopped. “You pregnant? I thought you were taking birth control pills?” A horn sounded and then a SUV passed on the left and flew through a yellow light.
“Watch what you’re doing,” Doreen said. “I’m not pregnant.” We were rolling again. “John, you’d like to be a father one day, wouldn’t you?”
Yeah, I thought, imagining my son planting a foot in her son’s butt when he started acting up.
“Look at you,” Doreen said, “you’re smiling.”
At the apartment Lewis waited an hour to tell me someone at the bank called.
Almost six-thirty on a Friday, the bank was closed. “You write down a name?” I asked him.
In the eight days Lewis and I had spent fishing, playing board games, getting our hair cut, and hanging out at Chucky Cheese, I didn’t mind indulging him for a few hours.
But now, as he ignored my question and continued staring absently at the stupid kid show on TV, all tolerance disappeared, replaced by an urge to take off my belt and whack him.
“You write down a name, Lewis?”
Not looking at me, he shook his head.
“Man or woman?” He didn’t know. “What exactly did he or she say?” He couldn’t remember. “How you know it was someone from the bank?” He managed a shrug, far more interested in those goofy twins who laughed all the damn time.
Doreen sensed my irritation. “John, what’s the big deal? The bank called to confirm that you’ll be there Monday morning. It’s not a problem. Relax.”
That made sense, and I wondered why I was getting upset about missing the call and Lewis not getting a name.
Doreen said to Lewis, “Remember what we
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