Debts To Be Settled

39

Tommy's change in location and a new source of income permits him access to grocery stores he has never been to before. They are proper grocery stores with multiple aisles and a wide range of ingredients including some imported from the mainland. Tommy doesn't recognize half the labels. Even the off-brand options presented always seemed above Tommy's payroll when he was working at the boutique, and it was definitely off-limits when he was a street urchin unless he was willing to steal. He wasn't going to get far if he tried, so he never did. But he has means now, and he indulges his taste buds by purchasing goods that his younger self would have never dreamed of looking at, much less throwing haphazardly into his basket. The other customers and the cashier pay no mind to the young man shopping amongst them, unaware of his past due to his demeanor and clothing. It was an enriching experience, one that filled him with more emotions than he was willing to parse through because he doubted anyone else would feel this way.

Tommy carries the bags in his arms. They are heavy with different objects, half of which he doesn't think he is going to need in the long run. He only wanted to stalk his cabinets and refrigerator (as if his friends and family hadn't already done that during his housewarming party, but still, this was a decision he made on his lonesome). Tommy felt some pride fluctuate in his mind with each step. He squeezes the bags as closely to his chest as he would dare, realizing belatedly that some of his objects— like his bread or the marshmallows he thought about making s'mores with (or some imitation thereof since he couldn't very well set a bonfire in his living room)— would not appreciate the squeezing. Tommy relaxes his grip, feeling something cold fall to the bottom of the bag where it sticks to Tommy's forearm. It is cold and wet, and Tommy quickens his pace to get home.

Tommy glances at the sky as he moves into an alleyway. There are clouds gathering, but if it does storm, it will happen later in the evening. As long as he doesn't get hopelessly lost, Tommy should be able to make it to his house before the first raindrops fall. His lips quirk with a smile as he lowers his face to the side street in front of him. He's still unfamiliar with the area, but he doesn't think he will stray from the course too far. If he does, he can easily get back on track. He starts pointing out details to familiarize himself with the environment: the dumpsters are spray-painted, there are multiple laundry lines hanging between windows, three pairs of rainboots sit beside a doorstep. Each one is easily changeable, but they should help Tommy find his way back to this street today, if not the next few days.

Tommy hears quiet voices whispering harshly to one another. The smile doesn't drop from his face, though, because he assumes the voices are from children playing in their 'backyards' (if these backstreets can be called that) or adults gossiping with one another. It could be a television or a radio filtering out of the small crack in a window. Tommy has heard plenty of noises too similar to this one for him to decide that it is worth investigating or avoiding. It's only people talking, and Tommy doesn't ponder who it could be exactly or the contents of their conversation. Most people live with a 'your business is yours, and my business is mine' mentality on the island.

He turns the corner to a concrete courtyard. A dozen apartment buildings face into the courtyard, looking at the statue of a divine figure standing at the center of the circular pattern the tiles have arranged into. Tommy should cut through this courtyard to find the main street that will lead him to his house. This was the way he came when he was going to the grocery store, after all, and the statue provides a fairly decent landmark for Tommy to remember. Unlike the previous time he was here, however, there is a group of people huddled around the statue, each one staring at the man standing at the statue's feet on top of the pedestal— effectively putting himself about three feet above everyone else. At a glance, it looks like a friendly gathering. Tommy could have assumed it was one if he hadn't seen a strange symbol on one of the outermost crowd members' jackets. He doesn't put a symbol to a name, but he does put a symbol to a noun: gang.