HIDING - every scar has a story

29. Hope.

{Cary}

Cary sent his mom a text when school was done, just a couple of words to say he was at a friend's and would be back for supper. She texted back almost immediately with smiley faces and exclamation points, something about going out for dinner and have a fun time. He stuck his phone in his jacket and rolled his shoulders. Probably she didn't remember what she'd said last night. She had to be pretty far gone to open her mouth about the baby.

He wanted a smoke so bad his head was splitting. He fiddled with the pack in his pocket, thinking about how he told himself this morning he would cut back to one a day and then quit. Two cigarettes a day was still half what he used to smoke. He lit up in the shelter of an alcove, waiting for Jon to come out of the school doors. A moment later, Jon came swinging through the crowd of kids with his head up and a smile on his open face. Cary concluded that asshole in English was leaving him alone. He ducked his head to hide his own smile and stubbed the smoke out on the brick. He pushed off the wall and fell into step beside Jon.

"Hey." Jon's smile brightened. "My mom's picking us up, so we don't have to catch the bus."

"She doesn't have to do that."

"Monday and Wednesday Bea has preschool, so she gets her then me."

"Oh." Cary tried to smell if his jacket smelled like he'd just had a smoke. Shit, of course it did.

Mrs. White turned to smile at him as he climbed into the backseat of the minivan. He noticed her eyes were the same colour blue as her blouse. "Hi Cary. Thanks for coming over to help today."

He ducked his head, mumbling, "Sure, you're welcome."

Jon's little sister was buckled into a car seat next to him. She turned her head away, playing shy. Cary was happy to do the same. He could see Jon's mother in the rear-view mirror, the corner of her temple where she'd missed a hunk of hair making her ponytail and one eye sparkling as she bantered with Jon. A couple times he saw her look up, checking him and Bea in the mirror.

There was no way to be invisible in Jon's family; everyone got noticed. To Jon, he was a different Cary: he was somebody who helped and somebody who had things to say that were worth listening to. Cary sat back in the seat and let his shoulders relax. He liked himself the way Jon saw him.

Jon's dad knew less and saw more than his son. Pete was patient with both boys, even and fair in divvying up jobs, but Cary had a lifetime of experience reading the signs. Pete White did not like him. Pete saw the things Jon didn't pay attention to: Cary didn't talk freely, he didn't look grown-ups in the face, and he looked like the kind of kid who would pull a knife on someone without thinking twice.

Cary didn't blame him—that was all true.

He let Jon ask the questions, watching Pete's hands as he went over the blueprints. The garage was simple enough: one door, one window, and a sloped roof. Cary paid close attention so he would remember everything Pete said the first time he said it.

They measured the ground, dug out the foundation and built the form to pour in the concrete. When the afternoon was done Cary was sweaty, dirty, and his hands were blistered. He couldn't think of any way he would rather have spent his time.

Pete surveyed their work, wiping sweat off his face with his wrist. "Thanks boys. Nice work on the corners, Cary. You have a real accurate eye."

Cary's ears got hot and rang faintly. He thought he could have been more careful with his angle cuts; he'd only used a table saw a few times in shop class. He didn't say anything.

As they went inside, Pete put his arm around Jon's shoulder. He had his head tipped to his son, listening with a smile while Jon described something from his day. Cary dropped back to pick his jacket up from where he'd left it in the grass. He looked one last time at the dark clay rectangle they'd dug and framed. He was happy. He went out the back gate and headed for the bus stop.

Jon caught up with him on the street. "Hey, leaving already? You sure you don't want to stay for supper?"

"No," Cary said. "Thanks. My father's gone for a bit."

"Oh." Jon's face brightened. "Well, can you come again tomorrow?"

Cary looked in Jon's smiling face and let his own face make that smile. "Yeah. Tell your dad—" Words got stuck in his head a second. Tell him I won't fuck this up. "Tell him I'll be there."

Jon peeled off to jog back to his house and Cary stuck his blistered hands in his jacket pockets. Back to the White's' house tomorrow. He put his head down and made his feet go slowly. Careful now, he thought to himself. Nothing was free. Happiness usually cost more than he could afford.

///

Cary worked on the garage with Jon and his dad almost every day after school. He kept his head down and his mouth shut, even though his father had drilled into him that this was disrespectful. Cary couldn't do different. The more he knew Pete, the more he was afraid that if he lifted his face and opened his mouth, Pete White would crack him open and everything inside would spill out on the grass like a hot pile of garbage.

He put all his respect for Pete into the work. His hands were good at building things—and they were strong enough to break a bone or press the life out of someone. Maybe Pete didn't know why exactly he didn't like Cary around, or why he was nervous when his little daughters were in the backyard with them, but he was right. Cary wasn't safe. He didn't belong in a house like Jon's. Cary knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to quit going.