All day from the dusty couch—no jumping on the couch, Kristy said to him—Arya watched the pig. It was black like a bottle of paint, its nose flat like the bottle’s cap. It crouched behind the door, bunched against the point where the door and the wall formed a triangle, and made pig sounds. Arya watched Emma coax the pig with a banana, but it stayed in its corner, squealing. Jayden tried to pull it out by its legs, but Kristy came in just then and sent Jayden on a time-out. From the couch Arya listened to Jayden cry and waited for Kristy to pick him up, but she did not, though she was Jayden’s mother and Arya knew then it was better to let the pain he felt in his chest stay in his chest. All day he wanted to pet the pig but was afraid. He was afraid of the pig and of the dog running outside in the yard trying to jump onto the trampoline, of the mouse that sometimes sat on Kristy’s shoulders and went in and out her jacket, the birds Kristy fed sugar water to from a dipper because they were so small and because they had fallen off a nest. He was also afraid of the goat, though it was forever napping behind the fence outside. And because he was afraid of all the animals Kristy fed and cleaned, he was afraid of Kristy. He had never known a person to have so many animals.
He waited for it to be four so he could go home, and when at four Maya came to fetch him, the lump inside his chest disappeared and he went to the pig, still huddled behind the door, and touched its skin. It was cool and smooth, like he had thought it would be. Maya stood at the door and asked Kristy all the questions. Had he eaten? Did he sleep? Did he have a good time? Kristy said yes to everything though Arya had neither eaten nor slept nor had a good time, but he did not mind. He poked the pig gently with a finger, and when it grunted, he laughed.
Kristy grew vegetables in her yard. The first day Mamma had brought Arya to Kristy’s house she had pointed the vegetables out to him. “Look, baba, red tomatoes, yellow squash, green okra, purple eggplants. Like flowers.” Later she had stood with Kristy and admired the giant wooden gym Kristy’s husband had built for all the children Kristy babysat. “This whole place smells of wood, no Arunya?” Mamma had asked. Even then, as he had played and as Mamma had pushed the swing and the swing had taken him high, making his head feel hollow and his feet grow heavy, Arya had wanted to tell his mother he did not want to stay at Kristy’s house. He wanted to stay all day at home. He did not get bored at home. He did not want many new friends. He wanted her. But he had not said anything. He knew by then when asking no longer helped.
“Ready?” Maya asked now, tugging at his hand. The dog was still outside, lying under the window awning, winking at the acorns at its feet.
“Ready,” Arya said.
“What do you say?” Maya asked.
So he turned to Kristy and said, “Thank you,” but he did not look directly at her.
The evening was not soggy. The sun had dried the morning leaves, and Arya’s shoes did not squelch upon the gravel. Emma and Jayden went home in cars, but Arya’s house was only blocks away and he could walk. “It’s not far at all, Arunya,” Mamma had said that first day while she had pushed the swing. “It is just down the road, and when I get back from work, you will be home within seconds.” Mamma took the bus to and back from work and she sent Maya to get Arya because the bus stopped too far away from Kristy’s. If Mamma was to walk all the way, it would take her a half-hour to walk the distance. “Maya will be here exactly at four,” she had said, “and you will be home in ten minutes.”
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