“Go with you where?” I asked. He said, “Nowhere, you dummy. Go with me like boyfriend/girlfriend go with me.” For three days, Boris and I went together. The first day, he gave me a necklace strung with pearly buttons taken from his mother’s sweater. The second day, he called me at midnight to play a slow song for me over the telephone. The third day, he told me to close my eyes. He held my hand, walked me to the ABC Drug Store, and bought me a chocolate bar, lip gloss, and a bottle of shampoo that smelled like coconuts. The fourth day, Boris’s father drove his truck back to Burning Rock Court from somewhere in Texas. Boris showed me the photograph of his father’s new house in Houston. Two large trees grew in the front yard. Boris’s father’s truck was parked in the driveway. The windows had curtains on them; the shutters were green. Boris told me his mother and father were packing to move the next day. I asked him if he wanted me to return his gifts. He told me he wanted me to keep them.
