You know, I'm working now, so I told Lloyd we were going to stop at papa's (I had to pick up the letter for state health care--about him helping me financially) and head to the mall for that cute $17 number at Macy's I've been thinking very much about (green with black skulls and a pocket across the front). No, I told him the trip was so he could ride a ride.

Papa handed me $200 for the bills and excess credit my husband rang up. He also gave Lloyd $1 in quarters for a ride when Lloyd told him we were going to the mall to ride a ride. It's a rather distant venture simply for one ride. I hated him telling papa we were going to the mall. No way did I have the heart or ethics or whatever to buy myself that shirt after receiving the money and all. A week and a half ago I did buy the same shirt in a different color with hearts. And three new t-shirts. And a thrift store trip for shirts for work. And new pantyhose. And a too expensive shirt worn to both funerals, from Macy's.

He rode the bus ride. He sat atop the still horse, the still four-wheeler with real tires and wide handlebars, and he pretended to drive the ice cream truck. He fiddled with the coin slots, the undersides of the rides, and the cords. He was happy for the fifteen minutes. And was fine with me leaving him there (I'm not good at this tactic because I end up lying). He came with me when I started telling the rides goodbye, and he told the rides goodbye, and he told the nearby group of elderly black men, "Goodbye, everybody. I'll come back and see you again." And he said hi to other shoppers--he told me they liked that. I bought him cheesecorn and a cherry icee. Nothing material for me. Something better.