Read Online Without Prejudice by Andrew Rosenheim - Free Book Online Page B

to him his presence might be unwanted. Vanetta stared long and hard at the woman before she spoke. ‘If you say one more word about some little boy, standin’ in line, waiting his turn for his srimps, polite and quiet like everybody else, I will put your scrawny ass in that hot fryer there.’
    A big man at the front of the line laughed out loud at this, and the younger woman did not reply. What struck Bobby was the sheer intensity of Vanetta’s anger – he had never seen that before.
    That night Bobby told his father what had happened, certain he would share his pride in how Vanetta had protected him. But his father looked unhappy, and after that Bobby noticed Vanetta didn’t take him to 63rd Street any more.
    ‘Life is about change,’ Mike had taken to declaring, and Bobby felt old enough to feel his brother didn’t know what he was talking about. Bobby would have said life was about avoiding change if you could, at least when you were happy with the way things were. And he was, if waking up each morning looking forward to the day was the evidence. In his case, he looked forward to seeing Vanetta.
    Early in spring, as he left school one day, he was still wearing his winter coat, a heavy quilted jacket his father had bought for him in Michigan at a dry goods store’s sale. It was too big for him, and the way the weather was warming he decided to ask Vanetta if he could wear his nylon baseball jacket the following day. Funny how he was thinking about Vanetta as he approached the corner of Steinways, for he saw Vanetta standing next to Abe, waiting for him.
    ‘Why did you come all the way down, Vanetta?’
    ‘We got some company today. I want you to meet someone.’
    Bobby waited with as much suspicion as curiosity. Slowly from behind Vanetta emerged a tall, bony, bespectacled boy. His cheeks were high mounds the colour of mocha, and when he opened his mouth – though right now he didn’t say a word – two front teeth protruded, rabbit-like. He was a little goofy-looking, awkward, with elbows that stuck out like chicken wings. His eyes, magnified by his thick lenses, seemed unnaturally round, as if the world were a source of continuous astonishment. Bobby was in no mood to feel charitable. Why was this boy here? He knew Vanetta had family – even children of her own. But they were grown children, no threat to Bobby, who was entirely happy to be just a little boy, if that meant he had Vanetta to himself.
    The three of them walked home along 57th Street, with Bobby in a sulk. Vanetta ignored this, and talked animatedly to this boy Duval. Bobby thought he didn’t look very tough, this ungainly boy, taller than Bobby but weak-looking. Bobby was confident he could out-wrestle him – even Mike admitted Bobby was strong for his age.
    When they got to the apartment Duval came in with them, and Bobby hoped he wouldn’t stay for long. But Vanetta said, ‘Why don’t you two go play outside in the back?’
    ‘I want to stay in the kitchen,’ he said, noticing that Duval hadn’t said a word.
    Vanetta looked at him sternly. ‘You got company, Bobby. You can’t just sit here.’
    ‘Why not?’ he asked.
    ‘Come here a minute, baby,’ said Vanetta, but instead of holding out her arms, she took his hand, and led him out into the hallway. There she said, ‘We need to have a talk.’
    ‘Okay,’ he said, but not brightly.
    ‘Duval’s mother ain’t well. You know what that’s like.’ He nodded dumbly. ‘She’s my daughter and he’s my grandson. So I got to help, now don’t I?’ He nodded again; he could see the logic of this. ‘That means some days I got to look after Duval. But I got work to do. There’s laundry, and supper to fix, and the house to clean. I can’t do all that and look after another little boy, now can I?’
    He could see the problem all right, though he didn’t know what he was supposed to do about it. He looked up at Vanetta, puzzled. She said, ‘So this means I need some help. Some