Will Ray's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

The rent was due Friday. Will stood behind the counter of his father's grocery store and counted the till twice. He was short again. The landlord wanted full cash, on time, or Aj lost the flat. One late day and she was on the street. Will lit a cigarette and stared at the tidy shelves of cheese and wine no one bought. He had one thing left to sell. He reached into his coat and took out the brass compass and the silver coin. His father had carried them for forty years. Aj had kept them in her pocket lately, like a charm. Will had given them to her. Now he needed them back, and he needed money more than memory. That afternoon Aj found him at the shop. She held the coin tight in her fist. "You want to sell these," she said. It was not a question. Her large eyes were wet. "They're the last piece of him." "The landlord doesn't take charms," Will said. His face stayed flat, but his eyes turned from blue to green. "He takes cash. Friday." Aj set the compass on the counter. Then she said the thing he feared. "I called my mother." The green door of the flat opened an hour later. Barbara Tart stood on the porch of her old house when they arrived, shaped like a snowman, thin grey hair moving in the wind. She held a fat envelope in one white glove. She had come with the money after all. "You called," Barbara said. "You always call. I am always right about this." She held the envelope out. "Take it. Come home. This is the right thing." Will watched Aj's hand. He had cut this leash once. Now the rent was three days out and the till was empty. He said nothing. The choice was hers. Aj took the envelope. She did not open it. She pressed it back into Barbara's glove. "I'm not coming home," Aj said. "I only wanted to hear you say I'd fail. Now I've heard it." Her voice shook, but her boots stayed planted. "We'll find the rent ourselves." Barbara's mouth worked. "You will fail. You always fail." She had no new words. She turned and shut her own door. Will drove Aj back to the flat. On the way he stopped at the antique shop and sold the compass and the coin. The dealer counted out the cash. It was enough. Friday came and Will paid the landlord in full. The suspicious man took the bills, checked each one, and gave a slow nod. Aj kept her flat. That night Aj sat on the couch with the striped cat. Her pocket was empty now. The last piece of Will's father was gone for good. "We're safe this month," she said quietly. "But we sold him to do it. And next month comes the same."