Page 101 of Raven

“We take many pictures,” Sonny says, taking the phone from me right away and opening the picture folder. “Look!”

He starts flipping through the pictures, and Maddy doesn’t stop him, only watches.

There are many pictures. She and Sonny are cooking. Watching a movie. There are dozens of selfies of Sonny with goofy expressions. I’d like to have them on my phone.

Then his thumb does something weird, and the pictures zoom out into a collage.

“Oops,” he says.

There is one, just one, so strikingly white that I reach toward it and click on it.

It’s Maddy in a white string dress. A simple selfie. Damp hair, no makeup. The glow of the lamp colors her skin with a soft glaze of honey. She looks like a bride, and the picture takes my breath away.

“That’s Maddy,” Sonny says proudly and turns to smile at her, then at me.

I flick a glance at her, and she looks right at me, unblinkingly.

Sonny clicks the phone shut and puts it on the table, then grabs the iPad. “Movie time!”

Maddy tears her gaze from me as Sonny nudges her and points his forefinger at a movie trailer.

While they choose a movie, I watch her like a junkie needing a fix watches another dose being waved in front of him.

I can’t look away. I erase the context—that this is a deal, a barter, or, to be exact, me blackmailing her, and the kid is just playing along, and we are just sticking together for the night because the storm might get bad. And my mind creates another scenario. Like this is my normal, everyday life. I imagine her in my bed, and that hasn’t happened yet, because why would she want to go to my place?

I imagine what it would be like if we came home together. If we had a home, she and I and maybe Sonny and maybe some silly parrot or a sugar-glider, because Sonny read about them in an encyclopedia, and it’s become another thing in his long list of fascinating things.

Maddy. Me. Home. Her white socks permanently on my floor. Her clothes on my couch. Her panties in my laundry basket, touching my boxer briefs like nobody’s business. Her books next to mine—I would read them all. Waking up in the morning to her scent, her touch, her warmth, her feet rubbing against mine. Her sleepy smile, happy, too, because she sees me next to her. Breakfast together, though I hate breakfasts.

There’s no stopping once these fantasies spin out of control. My feelings are growing like a monster, and I have enough for both of us to keep her interested in our deal.

And then I think about Sonny, his goofy grin and nudging Maddy with his elbow as they cozy up on the couch while I make them dinner. I would cook all sorts of things for them. His obnoxious shouting, “Rave! Ra-ave! Ra-a-ave!” Because he just learned something exciting and wants to share.

Fuck…

It feels like family, though I don’t know what a happy family feels like. I’ve only ever known Mac, who gave me a slightly normal understanding of that concept.

And I’m a lunatic. Because who’d want a family with me? Why would I want to jeopardize my peaceful solitude? But despite the odds, I want all these things with her.

The thunder cracks above the bungalow, making the house tremble, and Sonny ducks just a little and looks up.

Maddy’s arm slides around his shoulder. “Are you afraid?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “We had one bad last year. Guys flip’ the metal box to its side and clean’ it out. So we built a shield with a metal sheet and made a fire inside. Was fun. Water got in though, but it was fine.”

Maddy frowns. “A metal box?”

“Yeah, those big ones, behind the warehouse at the port.”

She shifts her eyes to me, not understanding, and I don’t want to say it but she’s seen worse.

“A dumpster,” I say quietly, and her eyes widen just slightly.

“Yeah! That one!” Sunny says cheerfully. “Look. This one?” He immediately shifts his attention to the movie he picked.

Maddy bites her lip. We’ve both seen a lot in this life, but children’s poverty just hits differently, the way they don’t quite understand it, how they are able to live through it with a smile. Some children build blanket castles in their bedrooms. Others build shelters out of dumpsters during storms, and then they talk about it like it’s the most exciting adventure of their life.

Sonny chooses E. T., a movie about a boy who befriends an extraterrestrial. Sonny sets the iPad on the table, the screen too small for the three of us, but he is excited about it while Maddy and I just play along.

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