Thomas and Niko in the City of Trees

Chapter 2 - Part 1

I can walk home from Thomas's house. It only takes about fifteen minutes, and I've done it for years. I recently found out what it means to be a latchkey kid. I read about it in a book. I guess in a way I was one of those, except I didn't spend much time locked up in the house. Instead I roamed around this whole area. When I was a little kid, I was asked more than once by an adult if I was lost. I had the good sense to say no, of course, but I was always a little confused and caught off guard by the question. I get it now. Baby Niko must have been quite the sight. These days, if I saw some little six-year-old screwing around the Barnes and Noble parking lot alone, I'd be concerned, too.

I mentioned before that I live off Cole Road. It separates our neighborhoods. The road itself is fairly lifeless, but there's more going on if you go down by the mall. We spend quite a bit of time at the mall. It's called Boise Towne Square Mall. We go downtown, too, but you can't get into any of the places there when you're underage. It's not too hard for us to get our hands on booze when we want it, but I'm still looking forward to the day when I can walk up to the bar and order something for myself. I don't know anyone my age who isn't looking forward to that.

I'm not sure where my work ethic comes from. My mom is lazy as hell and I can only assume the same of my dad, though I don't know him personally. At school, I become this whirlwind tornado thing that slips around from class to class just getting shit done. There's this thing that clicks in my brain every time I'm presented with a challenge. Go. Do it now. Just figure it out, get it done. I have always been that way. Thank god for that. It's my ticket out of here, I can tell.

I get home just before nine. My mom is watching some dumb show on Netflix. The volume is so loud I can't even say hi to her. I would have to yell for her to hear me, it's that's loud. There's this little cake from Albertsons sitting on the table. I don't quite know how to describe the relief I feel when I see it. I wasn't offended the year before when she forgot. I really wasn't. What bothered me was all the shit that followed—her remembering, crying, telling me how horrible of a mom she was and then giving me a look that demanded I tell her she wasn't. I told her she was a good mom and she just kept saying no, no, there's no way to fix this. It's the worst thing I've ever done. I'm the worst mom. I would say she wasn't again. She kept going on about it for days until I got really tired of the back and forth. Finally I snapped and accused her of making the whole thing about her. It was true, but I shouldn't have said it. We didn't talk for a week after that.

Anyway, the cake is there, and I'm so happy to see it, because it makes everything so much simpler. I cut two pieces from it and put them on plates, grab to forks and then I bring one to my mom. She thanks me and says Happy Birthday and all that over the noise of the show. She says, "I should have cut you a piece, not the other way around." Then she goes back to watching her show.

I eat my piece in about three bites because I'm starving, and then I eat one more. I look in the fridge for something with protein since I worked out with Thomas, but the boneless chicken breasts I bought are gone. I ask my mom about that. I have to yell, which has me annoyed right out of the gate.

"I think those were expired."

"How could they be expired? I bought them two days ago."

"I cooked them."

"Then where are they?"

"I burned them."

Jesus Christ. At least we've gotten to the bottom of this one. "How'd you do that?"

"I left them in the oven."

I look in the trash beneath the sink and find all four of them: big lumps of coal. They even melted a hole through the plastic bag. "You should've let them cool down before you threw them away," I say.

"What?"

I give up. We live right behind a fancy organic grocery store. They cost more there but her car isn't working right now and I don't want to walk all the way to Albertsons. I still can't quite believe she did it for the cake. I'll try to get her car going on the weekend. Thomas knows quite a bit about how they work.

It's fully dark outside. I'm really loving this warm night. There's kind of a breeze and it slips through the branches and new leaves of all the trees around here. There are mostly young maples and oaks in this area. I like trees quite a bit, and one good thing about the city is that there are plenty of them.

Anyway I get the chicken and even buy some broccoli and steam it up once I get home. I'm trying to look after myself and my health. I offer some to my mom but she doesn't want any. I have homework to do before bed and convince her to turn down the TV so I can focus on it. It takes me almost two hours to get through all of that horseshit. I work at the kitchen table. I have a math test the next day so it takes me a little more time to get ready for it. My mom is still watching TV when I'm done. I do the dishes and turn off the light in the kitchen.

"Night, Mom," I say. I kiss the top of her head. She doesn't say goodnight back. But I know she hears me. I know she's going through some mental health issues right now that make interacting at a conversational level pretty overwhelming. I've put some thought into it and I can see how it would feel to be in her position. So I don't push it. She'll be up late, but that's okay. I have a white noise machine in my room that helps me sleep.