She did, annoyed, tired of taking care of me. The bills were stuck to the soles of my feet.

“Take it away,” I said, and Mom peeled the twenties off me.

. . .

Another week and I wasn’t feeling better, but I was well enough to get up and walk around and help Mom clean the house and wash the vomit from my clothes and bed. Mom splurged and ordered burgers from Overtown but I could only take small bites, and I threw the burger away after it got too soggy and the lettuce all burned and shriveled from so many nukes in the microwave. Mom bought me a few packs of smokes and a package of white T-shirts and when she came back from the store she sat with me on the cold concrete steps.

It rained lightly.

“Can you give me a ride?” I said.

“Where in the world do you need to go?”

“Ralph Nelson’s,” I said.

Mom asked what for.

“Can you bring me?”

She went inside. From the steps I yelled to her. “Did you see a spoon?”

“A spoon? What do you need a spoon for?”

“No, did you see one when you found me out back?”

“Are you all right?”

“Did you see a spoon or not?” I yelled.

“I didn’t see no goddamned spoon, David.”

“Well would you get me one of yours?”

“One of my what?”

“A spoon!”

Mom started the car and I sat passenger holding the spoon and the wipers swiped the rain and she drove me to Ralph’s in the woods and parked in his muddy driveway. I got out and smelled garbage and went up to his door and knocked but he didn’t answer. I knocked again.

“Over here,” Ralph yelled. He was by the sweat lodge, his shirt off, kindling in his hands.

I walked toward him and waved Mom away, thanked her and yelled to her that I’d walk home and that tonight I’d make us dinner and we’d watch TV—maybe CSI or Criminal Minds. “Whatever’s on,” I said. She waved, looking forward as she reversed out of Ralph’s driveway.