Love in the Present Tense by Catherine Ryan Hyde

I knew we should get a picture of how much I love my boy.
    Then there was one more, so I smiled at the camera and tried not to look scared.
    Why can’t people just be safe?
    Especially when they’re trying hard to do the best things they can.

    We were walking on the pier and Leonard was looking down but it was too dark now. You couldn’t see nothing between the boards.
    Leonard was carrying that strip of pictures in his hand. Every now and then he would squint to see them again.
    I was thinking maybe we would spend the night under the boardwalk and hitchhike home in the morning. I don’t like to hitchhike at night. It isn’t very safe.
    I asked Leonard what he thought of that.
    â€œWhat would it be like?” he wanted to know.
    â€œWell,” I said. “It would be an adventure.”
    â€œWhat’s a venture like?”
    â€œIt might be cold,” I said. “But it might be fun and exciting.”
    We went down the stairs and under the pier.
    The night was cool now but a nice cool, and it was weird and nice to hear the ocean without seeing it. It was dark enough that you could only just barely see the white parts of the waves but you knew they were there from the sound. The sand was cold between our toes, and I was thinking it might not be a half bad adventure.
    But we did not stay long, on account of there were people having sex down there. I took my boy by the hand and we walked away again.
    â€œThose people looked like they were fighting,” Leonard said.
    â€œWell they weren’t.”
    â€œWere they having a venture?”
    â€œMaybe,” I said. “I don’t know.”
    This is when I decided once and for all that we had to go live some other place. Something about the drunk asshole and the people doing it under the pier. And that other thing. That older, worse thing. There had to be another place to live. Someplace that would be better for me and my sweet boy.
    Where, I wasn’t sure. But it should have an ocean. And it should be safe.
    I said to Leonard, “Pretty soon we’re going to move.”
    We were walking back toward the street, which is probably why he said what he did.
    â€œWe’re moving now,” he said.
    â€œNo, I mean to a whole new city.”
    â€œWhat one?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “A small one. With an ocean.”
    â€œLike Sanna Momica?”
    â€œNo. Much smaller. And safer.”
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œI don’t know. Soon.”
    We walked under the big arch sign and across the Pacific Coast Highway. I was thinking maybe I could pan-handle money for the bus. But for a while we just walked.
    We were walking along Santa Monica Boulevard when the red-haired guy pulled up beside us. He had the window of his car down on our side. The giraffe was on the front seat with him. I could see the top of its head sticking up.
    â€œYou need a ride?” he asked.
    I knew he would not hurt us, but I didn’t want nothing from him. All the same. His car was one of those old ones. The kind a guy will buy to fix up. The kind a guy will cherry out and be real proud of. But his wasn’t cherried out yet. Just real old.
    â€œWe don’t need nothing from you,” I said.
    I looked down at Leonard and he still had those pictures in his hand, but he wasn’t looking at them. I’m pretty sure he was looking at the giraffe. It made me feel bad.
    â€œSo you got a way to get home?”
    We just stopped walking. I was feeling tired and sad. I wanted to be home. I wanted Leonard to have that giraffe. I wanted to live in a small place and be safe.
    â€œWe live far,” I said. “Real far. All the way in Silver Lake.” And we were lucky to live there. We had moved way up.
    â€œI’ll drive you. If you want.”
    We got into the backseat of his car.
    He got on the freeway without talking.
    His window was open, with his bare arm sitting on the edge of it. I felt the