"For Good" (2012)

Donny was failing algebra, there was no doubt about that. Ms. Joy had her hands full with the class clowns and juvenile delinquents, leaving little time for those who actually needed help. 

It was the spring of our junior year of high school. Donny and I walked to his house that afternoon, with him lagging behind me. His shoulders slumped under the weight of his backpack, even though he'd only brought his algebra textbook home with him.

"Slow down, Lissy," he said. 

My bag was much heavier, yet I felt something pulling me along. I could hear Donny whimpering with each step.

Donny lived with his mother, Marge, in a local housing project. They shared their duplex with an old woman who put tin foil on her windows. The inside of their house was far from homey, but seemed to provide them enough comfort. A statue of the Virgin Mary stood near the center of the living room, surrounded by a string of blue Christmas lights. 

"Hullo, Lissy," Marge greeted me at the door in a yellow and white polka dot housedress, fingering the wooden rosary around her neck.

Donny was two steps behind me, slouching as if he might fall over. His mother watched him slog through the door.

"What's the matter, boy?" she asked.

"Not now, Ma," he said, tossing his bag on their beat-up couch.

Marge sighed and walked back into the kitchen. I could smell the pot of macaroni cooking on the stove, boiled almost to mush: she'd be serving Kraft Dinner again.

Donny was waiting at the foot of the stairs for me, textbook in hand. He trudged up to his room, never once turning to look at me. I had to take a deep breath once I realized the task at hand. Donny needed to start over almost at chapter one every time we reviewed the material. That may have been one of the reasons my grade had risen so much over the course of the year. 

"Don't work too hard, boy!" Marge called from the kitchen.

He was sitting cross-legged on the floor when I walked in the room, glancing at the start of chapter one. He traced his finger over the explanation of algebraic expressions.

"I don't get it, Lissy. Letters and numbers together? What's the point?"

"We've gone over this before, Donny."

"Since when?"

"Since the beginning of the year."

It would seem like every time we had a review session, Donny would start crying earlier and earlier. I could see the tears welling up in his eyes as he pored over the textbook, shuddering as he went further along. By the middle of chapter one, he was a blubbering mess, huddled and shaking in the fetal position. I had to wrap my arms around him to stop him from hurting himself. 

"Knock it off, Donny!" I cried as he was about to hit his head against a bedpost. He sobbed and relaxed his body on the ground. 

"Lissy...I can't do it, Lissy..." he said, his face buried in his sleeve. I sighed and put my arms around him again, rocking him back and forth. I heard Marge's footsteps on the stairs.

"Everything alright up there?" she asked. 

"Just fine, Ma," Donny called to her, shaking his head. 

"Dinner will be ready in five if you're hungry."

I could smell the cheese sauce as well as the overcooked macaroni now, my stomach starting to turn over. Donny looked up at me and smiled.

"At least we're having Kraft Dinner," he said.

Donny ran downstairs as soon as he heard silverware clinking on the table. I followed him at a slower pace, the smell of Kraft Dinner growing stronger as I came down. Marge was ladling macaroni and cheese into three bowls on the table.

Donny was in his chair before I walked into the room. Marge sat down once she had doled out enough for each of us and looked at her son.

"You alright, boy? You look like you've been crying."

Donny's eyes were still red. He shrugged and dug his spoon in the bowl, shoveling a healthy portion into his mouth.

"I hope you're not working him too hard, Lissy. You know how he is," Marge said, gesturing at Donny with her spoon. "He's a little s-l-o-w."

Donny seemed to pay her no mind, gulping down several mouthfuls of macaroni. I looked down at my portion starting to congeal. I swallowed and tipped my spoon into the lump, setting it down a second later.

"I'm really not that hungry," I said, pushing away from the table. The display on the microwave read seven o'clock. "My mother's probably looking for me."

"Thanks for coming by," Marge said with her mouth full. Donny waved one hand up and continued to eat with the other.

It was around seven-thirty when I arrived home. My mother's car was in the driveway, only one light on in the house. I took a deep breath and opened the door. She was eating a frozen dinner at the kitchen table. 

"Where were you?" my mother asked, not looking up from her tray. "I had to work late tonight."

"Out, Ma."

"What was that?" she looked up.

"I said I was out, Ma." 

"Don't you use that tone with me, Felicity Marie. Where were you earlier?" she said, glaring at me.

"Helping Donny with his math homework."

"Humph. That Boyd boy is beyond help, " she set down her fork and rose from the table, dusting herself off. She looked over at a picture of my late father on the mantle. "You know what happens when you try to help people like that?"

My father had died two years before. He came stumbling home one winter night and attempted to climb the stairs to our second floor apartment. He hadn't accounted for the thick sheets of ice coating each step. My mother found him splayed out at the bottom of the steps the next morning, his neck broken. "Didn't look any different than he usually does." I remember her saying.

"I was a lot like you when I was your age, Felicity. Thought I could undo all the wrongs in the world. Then I met your father, and he was a lot like Donny Boyd. Now look where I am today."

"It doesn't have to be that way, Mama."

"Of course it doesn't. That's why you should stay away from that boy."

"But, Mama..."

"End of discussion, Felicity. Good night."

We went to bed in silence that night. When I looked over at my alarm clock after a fitful dream, I realized it was after one o'clock. Donny and Marge would still be up at this hour. While he may not have gotten enough sleep each night, at least he went to bed happy. 

I could hear my mother pacing back and forth across the hall in her bedroom.