On Pride, And It Being A Funny Thing  − 12 August, 2007

On my way to smoke a cigarette Lee and Millard stopped me and bid me to have a seat.

Lee said, "We want to talk to you."

My first thought is something like, Son of a bitch. I take a seat and clasp my hands.

"Nathan tells us that you gave some money to your mom to buy clothes for your brothers."

"I did."

"Are they okay? Do they need anything? Millard and I would be happy to buy them anything they don't have."

I offer a quiet smile and lower my eyes. "No, they're fine. They don't need anything."

"Because we can go out and buy it, and you can give it to them like it's from you. Your mom doesn't have to know we paid for it."

Somehow they'd manage to pick up on the vein of pride that runs though both me and my mother, and it was this same vein that spoke the words, "No, that's really not necessary. They've got what they need now." Was it true? Likely it was not, but it was a problem I was set on taking care of myself. Their offer swam in my ears, but I would walk to the moon before I'd take them up on it.

"So why exactly is your mom having a hard time getting stuff for your little brothers?" Lee says. "I thought she was making more money at her new job."

I don't know, I thought. Why do the cabinets sit empty week after week? Why are our dogs so bony and malnourished? Why are Jake and Travis's clothes seen so many summers? Why is my family sweating to death in front of a television that shows them nothing but the same tired movies night after night?

"It's taking her a little bit to get adjusted, I guess," I say.

"We know how that is," Millard says from his place on the couch. "We had to have a lot of help when we were getting started. We took it anywhere that we could. Hell, half of my clothes came from the Salvation Army."

I smiled, but inwardly I shuddered at the idea of shopping at the Salvation Army. Not that I think myself better than those who do, it's just that things like that give poverty a face, and it wasn't a face I wanted others to see on my family. Not if I could avoid it. But Lee and Millard were different than I was. They were a people that didn't let pride keep clothes off their backs, or food on their plates. The sad truth of the matter was that in the same situation, I know that I'd sooner starve than ask for someone's help.

"What about you boy? Do you have everything you need? I know that you don't really like to open up, but we want you to know that we're here to help you in any way we can. You live here now, you know?"

"You're ours now," Millard says, exposing a grin.

"I take pretty good care of myself."

"What about money?" Lee asks. "Do you have enough to last you the rest of the week?"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'll be alright."

The truth was I gave my last hundred to dollars to my mother, and I was keeping my fingers crossed that the fumes in my gas tank were strong enough to keep my car running until next Friday. I thank them for everything, reassuring them that I'm just fine. I go out on the porch to smoke that cigarette. I sit down heavily and put my head in my hands, letting my cigarette burn nearly to my fingers before I remember it's there.

I don't deserve these people.

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