He frowned.
“She knows?”
“Not yet.”
“You’re going to tell everybody?”
“No.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
“I will tell only people who need to know until you decide what you want.”
He stared.
“Okay.”
She showed him the shower.
Clean towels.
New toothbrush from the cabinet.
She did not mention his clothes.
He noticed anyway.
“I smell.”
“You’ve been living outside.”
“That’s yes.”
She smiled faintly.
“Yes.”
He looked embarrassed.
The mother’s heart broke.
“There is nothing embarrassing about surviving with what you had.”
His expression changed.
He went into the bathroom.
Locked the door.
The shower ran for nearly forty minutes.
The younger boy sat outside on the hallway floor.
The mother found him.
“What are you doing?”
“Waiting.”
“For what?”
“Him.”
“Why?”
“What if he leaves?”
The mother’s throat tightened.
“There’s only one door out of the apartment.”
Her son looked unconvinced.
“He could use the fire stairs.”
“Why would he?”
Her son shrugged.
“People leave.”
The mother wondered what exactly her younger child had absorbed from years of shared custody after divorce.
Different wound.
Same fear.
She sat beside him.
“He may leave eventually.”
The boy looked hurt.
“He’s seventeen.”
“He’s my brother.”
“Yes.”
“Then he can live here.”
“If he wants.”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
The mother looked toward the bathroom door.
“Because family isn’t automatically safe just because someone says the word.”
Her son thought.
“That’s sad.”
“Yes.”
The older boy emerged wearing a bath towel around his waist.
His clothes were inside a plastic laundry bag.
He froze when he saw them sitting there.
The younger boy jumped up.
“You need clothes.”
“I know.”
“You can have mine.”
The older boy looked at him.
“You’re eight.”
“So?”
The mother said, “I ordered some basics.”
The older boy immediately stiffened.
“You bought stuff?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t need charity.”
“It isn’t charity.”
“What is it?”
She almost said parenting.
Too soon.
“Clothing.”
He stared.
She added, “You can pay me back when you become a billionaire.”
He rolled his eyes.
Good.
Normal teenage behavior.
The delivery arrived ninety minutes later.
Simple clothes.
Jeans.
T-shirts.
Sweatshirts.
Sneakers.
Nothing flashy.
The younger boy had attempted to add a designer jacket to the order.
The mother removed it.