The Vanishing Half

by Brit Bennett

“Don’t you think your folks’ll miss you?” Desiree said. “When you go?” He scoffed. “The money,” he said. “They gonna miss that. That’s all they thinkin about.” “Well, you got to think about money,” Desiree said. “That’s how all grown folks are.” Who would her mother be if she wasn’t worried about money all the time? Like Mrs. Dupont, maybe, drifting around the house dreamily. But Early shook his head. “It’s not the same,” he said. “Your mama got a house. All y’all got this whole dern town. We got nothin. That’s why I give this fruit away. Don’t belong to me nohow.” She reached for a blueberry in his napkin. By now, she’d already eaten so many, her fingertips were stained purple. “So if all this fruit belonged to you,” she said, “you wouldn’t give me nothin?” “If it belonged to me,” he said, “I’d give you all of it.” Then he kissed the inside of her wrist, and her palm, and slipped her pinky inside his mouth, tasting the fruit on her skin.