Carl’s parents were divorced before we started second grade. For a few years, before Carl’s dad won a scratch-off ticket and no one ever saw him again, I called Carl my best friend.
His parents went broke for his affection. The first Christmas I knew Carl, he pulled the inflatable Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles blimp out from under the tree (the only present that mattered in 1990). I asked my parents why Santa didn’t bring me one.
It’s too expensive, they said.
Carl’s father was always taking “trips.” On 4th of July, he came back with a bouquet of flowers (for Carl’s mother) and trunk full of fireworks (for Carl). All the neighborhood kids chased each other with sparklers that night. Except me. My father watched from our concrete stoop and told me not to leave the front yard. I asked him why I couldn’t hold one.