“She was tough. I saw her run after my dad with a knife once. One time she hit him in the kidney with the heel of her shoe so hard he had to go to the hospital.”

Ann laughed.

“It was actually kind of funny to hear her scream, saying ‘Oh no you don’t, Macho Camacho!’ She loved my dad. They had something. But they liked to party. They’d disappear for days, weeks, months at a time when I lived with my grandmother. When my parents were gone I’d sit at the window and wait for them all night. Only one time, it was just my mom who came back. She said my dad got hurt. She took me to see him in the hospital. He didn’t move when I called his name. Didn’t squeeze my hand back. He didn’t even know I was there. I said his name over and over till I started screaming it. Nothing. He just drooled and stared at the wall.

“My mom cried all the time. She kept saying he’d come back, but he didn’t. He went to a home. Then Marcus entered the picture.”

Michael thought he could forget all about Marcus. He had a new family now. A new life. But Marcus was always there at the edge of his thoughts.

“Most of the time he didn’t want me around, so he made me stay in my room. I had nothing to do in there but read books or draw. All weekend long I’d sit on my bed, staring at the door, waiting to get out.” He stared off at the distance. “But you know what, it’s because of Marcus that I like to garden.”

“Why Marcus?” Michael didn’t like hearing his name on Ann’s lips.

“He started locking me outside in the backyard like I was a dog. I’d bang on the door and beg to be let in. Then I wised up and realized it was better out there, out of sight. Things change outside, you know? I studied the way the grass grew, dug up the roots of plants, put my fingers in the soil to see how much water was in it. I’d collect seeds from plants I found in the park and keep them in ziplock bags in my pockets. At school, I read books about edible plants and perennials and hybrid varieties. I started a whole garden. Hollyhocks, peonies. One day our neighbor, this old lady named Darlene, she gave me a bag of tomato seeds. The next week she left me a starter basil plant. Then sweet peas. She showed me how to plant them. My plants grew. My mom got into coke, heroin. Darlene bought me more stuff. Peppers, oregano, cucumbers. The more my garden grew, the worse my mom got. The garden was the only place I had any control. I thought—” He paused.