What Do We Have Here, Sweetness?

“How are you, Anthony? Are you eating, sweetie? You don’t look so well. Come on. Come in, we have enough.” She was talking to him, but looking just past his shoulder. He didn’t need to follow her gaze to know an eviction notice was hanging from his door.

Had she been waiting for him? “Miss Rosa, you’re beautiful. You’re too kind. Me and Leen already ate, I promise. We’re fine, you enjoy.”

He shut the door behind him before she could dispute it. Lena was curled into a ball, trying to fit her entire body onto the surface of the heating pad. He hadn’t enough for the gas bill this time, and Leen is afraid of the dark, so choosing the electric was a no-brainer.

Bundled under a torn duvet with her pink nose peeking through, he brushed her hair from her eyes with a heavy hand to wake her. “Your favorite.” Anthony extended a lukewarm $0.99 double cheeseburger. He hadn’t eaten since two mornings ago, once the last of the hot dogs ran out.

I need help. I don’t know what else to do. I feel like I can’t breathe, Papa. He turned his eyes away from his sister so she wouldn’t see the tears. Lena had never seen him cry, and no matter how bad it got, he promised himself he wouldn’t scare her like that. Big brothers take care of their little sisters, and he wasn’t a chump. Only this time, he was. All the labor, the bus fare for the two of them, the tight budgeting, the Sunday coupon clippings, it wasn’t enough. They didn’t have enough to maintain Papa’s lease, and with his age and work history (or lack thereof), no one would let him sign his own. Despite mowing lawns with Leen walking close to his side, babysitting kids on the floor below, and making grocery runs during the hour that Lena napped, he couldn’t come up with enough.

He peered out the window, as if there’d be an answer out there. Nothing but Miss Rosa on her way to visit with more neighbors. If it’s true what they say about the good dying young, he couldn’t believe Miss Rosa was still here.

Anthony walked to the doorway of his father’s room and rested inside the frame. By that point, shuffling through the same four contents of that box had become part of Anthony’s daily routine. How many times had he turned the pages in this little black notebook? What felt like thousands, and yet, it was in remarkably good condition, as if the notebook didn’t age. He’d have traded its age defying quality to his father, if he could’ve. His father had brought this thing with him everywhere. It was his cell phone before they were invented. Math equations scribbled throughout. Addresses, phone numbers, directions, reminders, a code to a combination lock, a budget, a grocery list, debts to be repaid. Seeing his father’s handwriting comforted him. He placed his hand on the lead, tracing the letters. I need you, Papa. If you’re listening, I need you. He didn’t need to say it aloud. His stomach, his shoulders, his chest… his body ached with the weight of the message.

- - -

7:30a.m. alarm sounds. Gets Leen dressed. Brushes her teeth. Skips bath-time today. The gas is shut off and she won’t be comfortable with a cold shower. Gets himself ready. Out the door by 8:30a.m. sharp, as it’s a 25-minute walk to the closest neighborhood that actually has front lawns. Ten dollars a-pop. By noon, he should have enough for a week’s worth of groceries. Miss Rosa’s by the base of the building entrance, talking to the neighbors again when she notices them. “Bye-bye Lena-Bena! You’re a good boy, Tony.” If he had a dollar for every time she said that, he thought. Heck, if he had a dollar for every time she talked to the neighbors these days. Miss Rosa should run for Mayor.

---

“ANTHONY’S HERE!” A toddler screams from the front window, head disappearing from view as he climbs down off the couch and books it for the front door, straight into Anthony’s arms. The toddler’s parents smile, “There he is, always five minutes early and with a smile, no less! I swear, Tony. The world needs more people like you. How you doin’ kid?” Tony doesn’t look well these days but claims he’s fine. Going with his gut, Mr. Karlsson slips Tony three ten’s instead of one.

“Mr. Karlsson, you gave me too much. Here you go.” Tony extends the two ten’s back to Mr. Karlsson.

“Not good luck to take money back, Tone! You gotta keep it now.” Anthony can’t see any reason why Mr. K would pay twenty dollars more when his lawn hadn’t grown any bigger than it was last week. “Mr. K. It’s not good luck to take money you didn’t earn. Please.” Tony tucked the ten’s under the windshield wiper of Mr. K’s car, reached for Leen’s hand, and began their walk home.

By the third block, Lena always drags, requiring Anthony to carry her the rest of the way. He’s balancing Leen while fishing for the keys in his pocket when he notices two bags of groceries leaning against his door.

“Miss Rosa,” Anthony knocks on her door. She opens it within a fraction of a second, not even pretending she wasn’t watching Anthony’s reaction to finding the food. “Miss Rosa, we have food, honest. We’re okay. I’ve squared away the rent. Please, take it back. I can’t accept this.” Anthony had seen inside Miss Rosa’s apartment once when he heard her fall. The door had been locked and she wasn’t responding. Anthony had gone down the front stairs, up the back fire escape and forced her window. Well, forced is a generous word. Every window in this old building opened so long as it wasn’t blocked with a piece of wood or pipe.

Miss Rosa had a heart of gold for giving him these groceries, he thought. She had less than nothing to spare from the looks of the inside of her apartment that day.

Anthony took Lena and closed the door behind him, leaving the food. Miss Rosa was displeased. Anthony had been losing weight for weeks, his skin taught to his cheekbones. The bags beneath his eyes, darker now than they were before his father’s wake. Miss Rosa was fond of Anthony. He was a good boy, that Anthony. Always looking for opportunities for work. Always feeding that little sister of his. No teenage boy should have to be so wise beyond his years. The stress in Anthony’s face aged him. Miss Rosa didn’t like anyone dealt an unfair hand, Tony deserving it least of all.

Adhering to their bed-time ritual, Anthony grabbed his father’s notebook to tell Leen a story. Anthony made the stories up off the top of his head, committing to the act by flipping the pages as if he were reading from the notebook. Lena believed the pages were filled with invisible ink, making the stories that much more grand. As he turned to a fresh page to begin his story, there, written in lead pencil, read his father’s handwriting. Anthony could hardly make sense of the words, as his eyes locked on the handwriting and felt his breath catch in his throat. Overcome with emotion, Anthony was frozen in place. Lena giggled with delight. She loved when her brother acted out stories! He asked her to make up a story and tell it to her stuffed animal while he went to go get more invisible ink.

One word, “Mailbox.” Anthony had read this notebook front to back everyday for over a year. “Mailbox” had never been in it. He was more than sure of that. Lena was too young to know how to spell. No one had a key to their apartment. This was transcendent. This was… Papa. “Be back before you can count to 60!” Anthony knew Leen struggled with the 40’s, buying him some time, no doubt. He fumbled with his keys, unable to find the right one fast enough.

Three envelopes lay in a stack. Anthony grabbed them, locked the mail slot, and sprinted up the stairs back to his apartment. First envelope: cash. Anthony yelled to Leen, “Tell me a story from the notebook, I’m listening from here. Just brushing my teeth!” Mostly twenties, some tens and fives. All worn. Anthony counted two thousand dollars total, then re-counted five times more, to be sure. Two months rent! Two months of safety! He’d mow as many lawns as he needed to for gas, groceries, and electric!

The second envelope: sixty, $100 gift cards to various grocery stores in his immediate area. Twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight… Anthony counted six thousand dollars worth of food in gift cards. They could eat for a YEAR on that kind of tab, if budgeted properly! The third envelope: a receipt from his landlord showing twelve payments of one thousand dollars, covering his next twelve months of rent under his father’s name. The tears were no longer welling in his eyes, they were flowing. Rent, food, and utilities, for a YEAR! He could buy a new duvet, one without holes! He could buy Lena all new clothes that actually FIT her! He could afford bus fare again so Lena wouldn’t need to be carried home! He could breathe again! He could breathe again…

He closed his eyes and hugged the book. He didn’t need to say it out loud. His entire being vibrated with gratitude. There was a truth to this experience. His father had heard him. His father had answered him. Emotionally exhausted, Tony decided he needed food and he needed sleep, in that order. Deciding he had more than enough, Tony stashed five of the gift cards into Lena’s coat pocket. “Leen, how about a late night pizza?” Her pupils dilated upon the suggestion. “That’s what I thought. These cards are presents. I’m going to get us some food while you stay with Miss Rosa, ten minute’s, max! But, I need you to carry out a top secret mission.” Lena listened, waiting for the catch. Pizza AND a mission? This sounded too good…

“Leave these cards on Miss Rosa’s table, and don’t let her see you do it.” Lena nodded enthusiastically. They solidified the deal with a dab.

It took one knock for Miss Rosa to answer. “Would you be able to watch Lena for 10 minutes while I run to the corner store? I don’t like bringing her along at night time.” Miss Rosa held up a hand, “Say less, my boy.”

“Thanks Miss Rosa, you’re the best. Need anything?”

“Not a thing, child. Oh, tell Omar Miss Rosa says hello.”

“You know the owner like that? Wait a minute, of course you do. You know everybody.”

Miss Rosa let Lena in and shut the door behind her. “What do we have here, Sweetness?” Lena was still holding onto her Papa’s notebook. Anthony must not have noticed in all the excitement. Miss Rosa’s stomach flipped when she saw it. She had worked too hard, for too long to just hand the notebook to Anthony and risk suspicion clicking within him. Best to just put it back, she thought.

Leaving Lena with her oldest daughter for just a minute, Miss Rosa quickly walked down the front stairs, up the back fire escape, and forced the window. Well, forced is a generous word. She slipped inside the apartment and returned the book to its box.

- - -

Tony’s old man never went anywhere without that book. Having next to no belongings in their apartment, the book would be easy to find, she suggested. The neighbors all agreed with her. That Anthony, he was a good boy. Debatably too big of a heart to accept a handout, but a good boy nonetheless. They’d have to be clever about helping him, they decided.