I was at the department store watch counter at the Beverly Center, looking at the array of gold and silver time pieces, when the boy moved right up to me and boldly set his hand next to mine on the counter, our pinkies crossing.
"Got the time?" he asked.
He had on a dark blue hooded sweatshirt that smelled like he hadnāt washed it recently, the insignia silk-screened on the front peeling so badly I couldnāt make it out.
"No," I said. "Thatās why Iām shopping for a watch."
I left my hand by his.
He took a step back and balanced on his left foot, wobbling with the effort. I thought he was going to fall, his hand lifting off the counter for a moment, but he put his right foot down, solidly, and caught himself.
"You look like the type that could afford one of those," he said.
My eyes traveled to where he was pointing. The watch was a hundred dollars.
"Maybe on the installment plan." I pointed at a plastic one with a cartoon mouse doing semaphore on it. "That oneās more in my price range."
"$19.95? Come on, man! How about that one?" He indicated a seventy-five dollar price tag.
"Too much."
He scratched at his arm and pointed at one in the sixty dollar range. "That one looks nice."
"Iām not very good with watches. They always break on me or just stop working."
He shrugged. "Oh."
"How about that one?" I asked. The tag said $39.95.
He let out a breath, looking tired and older than he should have. "Yeah. O.K."
"Are you hungry?" I asked him, as we left the store.
"I could eat a burger," he said, being cool.
We started walking towards the Food Court.
"Find us a table," I told him.
I ordered him two cheeseburgers, some fries and a chocolate shake.
Still at the register, I hung a couple of folded twenties over the edge of the cardboard food box.
I strode back to the table heād picked and put the tray down in front of him.
"Happy Holidays," I said, and walked away before he could say a word.
