The Little Blue Book at the Bank

The numbers

Wyatt took it in both hands and opened it. He stood there studying the page, his lips moving a little the way they did when he was sounding out a word.

Then he looked up at me.

“Grandma,” he said, “what do the numbers mean?”

I opened my mouth, and nothing came out. I put my glasses on. I put my finger on the first line.

Through the front window, out of the corner of my eye, I could see the black pickup parked out front, parked out front. Brandon was leaning against the side of it.

He had not come in. He had one hand on the truck and, as I would learn, a white envelope zipped inside his olive work jacket. He was watching us through the glass.

Wyatt followed my eyes to the window. He leaned close and whispered, the way children whisper when they think it is a secret.

“Dad said he can’t come in unless you look at him,” he said.

So I looked at him.

I looked at my son-in-law through the bank window, and I did not look away. And after a long moment, I nodded.

Brandon pushed off the side of that truck and walked to the door.

The deposit

The bell over the door jingled. Brandon came in and stopped just inside, like he was not sure he was allowed any farther.

“Morning, Brandon,” Karen said, in exactly the voice she uses with everybody.

“Morning, Karen,” he said.

He came to the counter and stood on the other side of Wyatt. He did not look at me yet. He opened the envelope and took out five one-hundred-dollar bills and laid them on the wood, one at a time.

“I’d like to make a deposit,” he said. “Into my son’s account.”

Karen counted the bills twice, out loud, the way she always does. Then she held out her hand to Wyatt, and Wyatt, without being told, put the passbook into it.

She stamped it. She wrote the new line. She slid it back across the counter to Wyatt.

Wyatt looked at the page again. He put his finger on the bottom line. “That one’s new,” he said.

“That one’s new,” I said.

Brandon finally looked at me. “Sixty-eight more,” he said quietly. “First Saturday of every month. I already asked Karen to set it up.”

“Then I’ll be here,” I said.

Wyatt tugged on my fleece. “But Grandma,” he said, “you didn’t tell me what they mean.”