On Davis Row

by N.R. Walker

So the one rule he’d enforced since day one was that we treat our customers the way they used to be treated, “before the world went to hell” along with “that terrible fast food” and “those phones the kids stare at these days.”

The town’s annual rainfall was almost as high as the unemployment rate and teen pregnancy statistics.

“Did you send me to the only gay bar in Maitland for a laugh? Thinking I’d be horribly offended? Because the back room was just what I needed, if you know what I mean . . .”

A slow smile spread across Terrell’s face. “What?” I asked, pretending to look in my breast pocket, then under my desk. “Is my newbie status showing?” Terrell laughed. “It is. But don’t ever lose it. I wish everyone still had it.”

“Noah?” He stopped at the hall. “Yeah?” “Thank you.” “What for?” For not making fun of me when I didn’t know what carton the milk was. For understanding about my father. For being nice to me. “For breakfast.” He smiled like he knew what I didn’t say. “Anytime.”

“Tell me what happened that night.” He grabbed my shirt and we ended up pushing and shoving, our frustrations at the boiling point, and he pushed me against the kitchen counter. “Why? You already think I’m guilty!” “Because I deserve the truth.” “And I deserve the benefit of the doubt! But I didn’t get that from you, did I?”

CJ’s eyes welled with tears. “I hate him so much.” “I know you do. And it’s justified, CJ. Just because you’re related to someone doesn’t mean you have to like them.”