The Man Who Came Uptown

Up where he slept, in the bedroom he’d shared with his older brother, Thomas, when they’d come up, Michael placed the bookcase against the wall beside his dresser, where there was a space. There were some rough spots in the wood, some splintering along the edges, and the connections were shaky where they had been joined by the little dowel rods. Michael would fix that permanently with wood glue and C-clamps. He intended to sand and stain the shelves as well.

He put the two Elmore Leonard Western books he owned on one of the shelves, spines out like they did at the library, so he could read the titles. And then, just to see how it looked, he shelved a couple of library books the same way. He intended to fill this bookcase, and when there was no more space he would buy another set of shelves, maybe even one of those old-time ones that had hinged glass doors. Once he got himself situated with some pocket money, that is. All in good time.

On the other half of the room was his brother’s twin bed and his dresser, crowded with all the trophies Thomas had earned, from Pop Warner through high school. Michael’s mother dusted them regularly. Not that she was holding the room as some kind of shrine. She kept a clean house. Even had those plastic runners on the carpet downstairs.

It was said that most parents had favorites, but Michael felt his mother loved all three of her kids equally. Thomas had been the athlete, the straight one, right into the military out of high school, and he had his life insurance, health insurance, and pension already in place. Olivia was the smart one who’d applied herself, taken the right AP classes, bolstered her résumé with after-school activities, and went after that minority scholarship money on her own. She said she was going to go into public relations, but whatever she did, he had no doubt it would be big.

Michael had struggled, obviously, but outsiders would never know it if they spoke to his mom. She had stuck with him, even that last time, when he’d used her car to do the robbery. Sometimes he felt like he’d never atone for that. Sure, his boy Mario had talked him into it, but Michael could have said no. He had done the dirt at a time in his life when he felt he had no worth. After he’d lost that thing at the Foot Locker. And then been let go from the Best Buy. Once again without a job, out of money, and low on self-esteem. For the wrong minute Mario’s plan to take off the weed dealer had made sense. It seemed like a solution when all along it was a trap. It also sounded exciting and a little dangerous, and those were sensations that Michael had always chased too. But the person he had been was standing far behind him now. All he could do going forward was try to be right.

His mother called his name from downstairs.