Crenshaw

26

During the afternoon rush hour the next day, my dad returned to the same corner with his new sign. It was drizzling again, and gray clouds hung low in the sky. I waited in the car with my mom and Robin and Aretha.

My mom had just gotten off work at Rite Aid. She said two people were out sick, which meant she was the only cashier. People in line were grumpy, she said. Why didn’t they just read the Enquirer and wait their turns?

A driver in a red SUV rolled down his window. He smiled and said something to my dad. They both nodded. My dad tucked the sign under his arm and held out his hands till they were about two feet apart.

“I’ll bet Dad’s telling him about that trout at the lake,” I said to my mom.

She smiled. “And exaggerating.”

“Is that the same as lying?” I asked.

“Not when it’s fish-related,” said my mom.

When the light changed, the driver handed my dad money and waved as he pulled away. After about an hour, he’d collected a bunch of dollar bills. Also a big cup of coffee and a sack with two slices of lemon pound cake in it.

My sign was a soggy mess.

My mom flattened the bills on her lap. “Fifty-six dollars,” she announced.

“And eighty-three cents,” my dad added.

My parents shared the coffee. I split the pound cake with Robin. Then I climbed to the back. Aretha was tail-thumping hopefully.

When no one was looking, I gave her my whole piece.

It was windy and cold, and the rain had come back hard. We listened to the radio as tiny rivers zigged and zagged down the glass.

A new man went to stand on the corner. His sign said VET—GOD BLESS. A small, poodley-looking dog was nestled in his half-zipped jacket.

“I still think you should take Aretha with you next time, Dad,” I said. “I’ll bet we’ll make even more money.”

He didn’t answer. I figured he was listening to the radio announcer. She was warning that the chance of rain was 80 percent, so it was a good night to stay inside.

A summer-day-camp bus stopped at the light. Its windows were fogged up. I saw some kids and hunched down in case I knew them.

Someone had drawn a smiley face with a word by it. Hello! I decided, but it was hard to tell. I was on the outside, so everything was backward.

Aretha licked my sticky hand.

“Next time,” my mom said, leaning her head on my dad’s shoulder, “I’ll do it.”

“No,” he answered, so softly I almost couldn’t hear him. “No, you won’t.”