Usually hungry.
And proud.
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I’d ask:
“How much closer are you to the bike?”
He always gave me some version of the same answer.
“Getting there.”
Then:
“Almost enough.”
Then:
“A little longer.”
At first, I didn’t question it.
Used bikes went up in price.
Maybe he was saving extra for a helmet.
Maybe he wanted new tires.
Then his behavior changed.
One evening, I passed his room and saw him stuffing a handful of bills into his backpack.
The instant he noticed me, he zipped it shut.
I stopped in the doorway.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Looked like money.”
“It was.”
“How much?”
He shrugged.
“My pay.”
“Why is it in your backpack?”
“I’m keeping it safe.”
I almost laughed.
“You have a drawer.”
“I know.”
He wouldn’t look at me.
That bothered me.
Still, I let it go.
