Love in the Present Tense by Catherine Ryan Hyde Page A

wind coming in. It blew my hair around. I watched the palm trees go by in the dark. I watched the shiny orange reflectors on the freeway flash by.
    Leonard watched the head of the giraffe where it stuck up over the seat.
    After a time the guy took a cigarette out of a pack and reached the pack back over the seat at me.
    â€œSmoke?”
    â€œNo,” I said. “I never would. It’s a filthy habit if you ask me.”
    Instead of lighting his own cigarette he put it back in the pack.
    â€œReal sorry about my friend,” he said. Like he hadn’t ever said that before.
    â€œGet new friends,” I said.
    And we rode without talking nearly all the way to Silver Lake.
    I had him drop us about three blocks from home.
    â€œWhy are we getting out here?” Leonard said.
    And the guy said, “Because your mom doesn’t want me to know where you live.” We sat without talking for a minute. I did not get out because of that giraffe. I wanted him to offer it again so I could say yes this time. “Which is okay,” he said.
    Then I remembered that he was the guy who pulled the asshole away from me and told him I had a kid and to stop it. I was thinking I hadn’t been very nice to him.
    â€œWhere would you move to,” I said, “if you wanted to be safe?”
    â€œSafe from what?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t know. This city, I guess. Everything.”
    â€œOh. You mean like Don.”
    â€œYeah. Like Don.” And some others things I was not about to tell him.
    We were sitting off to the side of Silver Lake Boulevard at a red curb where you are not supposed to park. Leonard was looking at the giraffe.
    â€œNo place is really guaranteed safe,” he said.
    â€œSome might be better.”
    â€œMaybe a small town.”
    â€œHas to have an ocean,” I said.
    â€œWell, maybe up the coast a ways. Santa Barbara is still pretty safe. There’s a little town called Lompoc that’s near a military base. And if you want really small you could try Morro Bay. That’s probably a pretty safe place to live.”
    I was trying to learn those names in my head.
    â€œWhy can’t people just leave me alone?” I said.
    I looked up, and his eyes were watching me in the rearview mirror. “Maybe because you’re nice-looking,” he said. Then his eyes slipped away again.
    â€œThat’s no good excuse,” I said.
    â€œNo,” he said. “I suppose not.”
    We sat quiet one more minute, and then he said, “I got no use for this at my house.” He held the giraffe up by its neck. “I just got it for the kid. You sure he can’t have it? He’s been looking at it.”
    â€œSay thank you to the man for the present, Leonard.”
    â€œThank you, mister,” Leonard said. And he took the stuffed giraffe into the backseat with us.
    For a minute I felt bad. Because what about what I gave Leonard? That didn’t seem so important anymore.
    Only then Leonard said to the guy, “Look what else I got.” And he showed him the pictures we took of us in the merry-go-round house.
    I felt better then.
    â€œHey, nice,” the guy said. “You and your mom. That’s a nice thing to have to remember today.”
    â€œYuh,” Leonard said. “I know. You want one?”
    â€œMe?” the guy asked. Kind of surprised sounding.
    Leonard is a very generous boy. People aren’t always ready for how generous he can be.
    â€œYuh. I got four. See? We’d have to have a way to cut one, though.”
    â€œNo,” the guy said. “I think you should keep all four, because it’s your birthday.”
    â€œâ€™Kay,” Leonard said. “Bye.”
    â€œYou’re a lucky boy. To have a mom who takes such good care of you.”
    â€œYuh,” Leonard said. “I know.”
    We got out and walked the rest of the way home.
    The night felt good on my skin.
    I looked around once