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They got home late to an empty house. Mr. and Mrs. Brown must have gone back out to enjoy the festival with their friends now that selling was finished.

What time does that thing end?

Maybe 2 or 3 a.m.? Most of the food stands close and the sellers shut up shop, but the bar and band stay open and the old people keep playing until everyone feels like going home. We should have a lot of time. Those guys are my parents’ high school friends after all.

Like that cop?

Hollis chuckled. Yup. No one ever leaves. I’m surprised you remember that.

They peeled off all their layers and tossed their dusty clothes directly into the washing machine, and went upstairs.

Hollis grabbed the last of Jorge’s cigarettes and lit one as they waited for the tub to fill. Held it between their teeth as they got undressed.

I’m still not used to this.

You have time. Hollis winked at Walt in the mirror, but Walt didn’t take the bait.

I might not, sweetheart.

Hollis didn’t take that bait either.

Let’s say you do. I have a question. Did your mom ever pick up the money you left her? The half of it that you put in an account in Chicago?

Nope. And it won’t still be there neither. Great Depression ate that up quick. The banks were just doing whatever. We gonna buy this town, we gotta do it through hard work. No free lunches. You still wanna do that, by the way? I thought maybe you were just...

Hollis shrugged, took a quick drag, and folded their arms, leaned back to watch Walt in the mirror.

I keep my promises. Food, shelter, and all that.

Walt sucked his teeth, their teeth.

Turn off the light, Hollis Brown, I can see you better in the dark.

They sank into the water, one knee bent, one ankle hanging off the edge, and Walt promised them he’d get them a bigger tub in their own house.

Tell me it again.

Tell you what?

Tell me about how you love me.

Walt took their face, let Hollis brush a thumb against their mouth for the shock of it. Blew smoke out into the dark and closed their eyes against the ash.

In the pantry, old things are in your pa’s handwriting, some in your ma’s. Most of it is in yours now. If anything happened, your family could survive for months on jars of your cursive.

Your... room is filled with hand-knit things: sweaters, mittens, scarves, socks. The ones with holes are misshapen, just real bad beginner’s stuff. But you wore them out. You kept them, and I know your lazy ass never learned to knit.

Under your bed, you’ve got books. Not the kind you’d put on display to show off. Little Women , The Water Babies , at least four from the Little House series, some absolutely shocking romance rags. All from before the 1980s, yellow and smelling like vanilla. I knew your ma’s name before that cop said it. She wrote it in the back.

Last week you restocked the shampoo and conditioner. Not the cheap shit from before I arrived. The good stuff, even though it costs more, and I didn’t have to ask.

You just bought a guy who broke your nose a jar of pencils, for no reason other than that you thought he needed them.

It’s enough. You’ve always been enough, even before I got here.

Hollis leaned their head back and swallowed hard. Blinked fast.

Okay. I’ll try not to forget that.

But you are still an asshole, Walt said, taking another drag. Be boring if you were any less.

Yeah, yeah. Okay. You know what it was for me?

I’m afraid to ask.

It was too early to know you yet, but that first night, when I woke up scared and you put me back to bed.

That was so long ago, Hollis.

Hollis laughed, wet.

Yeah. We weren’t there yet, and I was still angry. But I knew and it was the only thing that let me sleep.

I knew you were once scared of this too, and then I couldn’t be afraid of you.