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By Root 509 0

then continued wetmopping the front of the store. Pieces of the old rubber tiles kept breaking off in the mop strands. He had gone from that first unaccustomed anger with his brother to feeling hurt. He dumped the black mop water down the double sink in the storeroom and felt the anger churning again. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But somehow Dennis had made it seem that way. He’d only wanted to help, but Dennis made it all sound so desperate and perverted. Was his brother that cruel and self-centered? Or like their mother when feeling cornered, quick to turn their strong bright lights on everyone else’s flaws, missteps, and ineptitudes? He hated the way he felt right now. For all these years he had managed to control his feelings, to rise above cruelty and perversion. But how could he now? He couldn’t just look away, isolate himself. This was his brother. His insides felt as if something had broken loose and was clanking around between his head and gut. The best remedy was work. He had to keep busy. If Dennis was willing to risk everything for some woman, then that was his problem and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He had to stay focused. In control. No one could harm him unless he let them. Like the girl Jada. He had let her get too close. He had gotten careless, had followed his feelings instead of his head.

After one last check, he locked up for good. Halfway down the street, he remembered the missing carts. They were probably in the strip of woods behind the store. Last week there had been a brush fire in there. Right before the fire trucks arrived, a pack of boys had darted out of the smoky scrub, each in a different direction. He’d look first thing tomorrow. A night in the woods wasn’t going to do any more damage to those rusting old carts.

He wasn’t too far from the Market when he spotted a cart in an alley so narrow, it ran like a crease between two tenements. He had to lean in sideways to pull it out.

“Hey, mister!” A round little woman with green-streaked hair chased after him. “What’re you doing? That’s mine! You got my cart! You can’t just take my cart!”

“It belongs to the Market. The Nash Street Market.” He gestured ahead.

“Like hell it does! I got that cart. It’s mine,” she said, pulling on it.

“I’m sorry, but it’s not.”

“Yes, it is, because I got that cart. It’s from Shop and Save. See!” She pointed.

“Where? Where does it say that?” The plastic store strip had broken off the handle. It belonged to the Market, he repeated as he pushed it away.

“Please, mister!” she implored, hurrying alongside. “Okay! You’re right, it is your cart, but the thing is I need it. I got nine-month-old babies, two twins, and last week they stole my stroller right outta my hallway, and the babies, they’re too big, I can’t carry them both at the same time plus go get food and formula all the time, not to mention Pampers. I go through these, like, humongous packages, and I just want to use it, that’s all. Just borrow it. A week. Just a couple days.” Breathless, she tried to keep pace. “My girlfriend Wanda, she works in the Goodwill. She’s tryna find me one. Please!”

“I’m sorry.” The cart’s rattle over the cracked pavement vibrated up his arms. He felt terrible, thick and obdurate. But how could he give what didn’t belong to him? And if he did, what if she was accused of stealing it? Then, of course, she would say he had given it to her, and that might be it, the stupid mistake, the one moment of weakness that would bring everything to a wrenching stop.

“Please, mister! A few days, that’s all, and then I’ll bring it back. I swear. Please! I need it! Please!” she shouted after him. “You no good son of a . . .”

The minute he turned the corner he saw a funnel of black smoke rising behind the store. Papery cinders drifted past like black snowflakes. He left the cart by the doors and ran out back. Flames licked up to the roof. The mountain of boxes Neil had piled against the building was ablaze. Fragments of fiery cardboard floated up through the smoke.

He ran around the loading dock and uncoiled the hose from its