Son, can I borrow that paper route money?

Bradley pumped the pedals hard and made the two miles home in no time. He ran into the house to share the news, almost tripping over Glen who was playing on the floor.

“Watch it kid! What’s got you so worked up?” said Mo, who was watching a Marlboro commercial on TV, and smoking one too. He was in a good mood so Bradley handed out the form from Mr. O and told the story.

Natalie interrupted. “No you can’t have a paper route. You’re going to get killed riding your bike around and throwing papers on Colorado Boulevard. And all the freaks will rip you off!”

“Aw come on Nat, it’s time the boy grew up,” said Mo, with a hard edge in his voice. “And we can sure use a little extra money around the house, isn’t that right son? I’m gonna sign that paper.”

She started to argue but gave up, seeing Mo had to get his way on this. “Here I’ll sign the damn thing,” she said, keeping control over her kid.  Mo was not around enough to get credit for being responsible. “But tell that Mr. O you are not to deliver papers on Colorado, it has to be a nice peaceful neighborhood.”

The next day after school he was following a kid on his bike, watching him throw newspapers to the houses on residential streets. It was a small route he learned quickly, with only 32 houses.  Soon the end of the month came and it was time to do collections. Getting money from adults as a shy ten year old was a big bummer. It was amazing how many had excuses why they didn’t have the 3 dollars, or who wouldn’t answer the door. He had to go back again and again, his pockets filling up with quarters and dollar bills that he would take straight to Mr. O, knowing better than to go home with all that the money. In the middle of the first month Mr. O cut him $13, which was 50 cents for each subscriber that paid. That’s when he found out you had to have 100 houses on the route and collect every single one to make the whole $50. So, he got a second paper route he could deliver in the morning before school. He had to get up early and be at the garage by 6. It was a bigger route with 60 houses and the bag was heavy on his handlebars.

Mo caught on that Bradley was working all the time, and when he was going to do collections. He had just lost his job as a welder, a skill his father had taught him, and a job he hated. The parents had a big drunken fight about it and Mo was yelling, “If I have to work for that man one more gawddamn day, I’m gonna kill him.”

One day Bradley was doing collections on both routes and his pockets and the canvas bag he kept tied around his waist so filled up he had to stop in the middle of a block and go offload the cash at Mr. O’s. Mo was parked in the alley and leaning against the old Chevy as Bradley pulled up. Mr. O waved and smiled at them, having made new friends with the charming father. “Son, get in the car for a minute.”

Bradley obeyed, which he always did, and almost always out of fear.  “Son your mama and me are in a desperate situation…..” He went on and soon had all the cash from Bradley with a promise that he would pay it back before the 15th when the final collections were due, because he had another job lined up. Bradley wanted to believed him. It was why he had a paper route, to help the family. He even felt good about it. Mo offered to put the bike in the car and drive him home, but Bradley wanted to ride himself.

Bradley beat Mo home. In fact, Mo didn’t come home at all that day, or the next. Bradley learned later from hearing another big fight between his parents that Mo had gone to the track down at Santa Anita and lost all the paper route money on a horse. It was almost $200.

Mr. O was very understanding, like Jesus Bradley thought, and it made him wish the route manager was his father. But Bradley had to repay every dollar, giving up all of his pay for 3 months. It was a debt that Mo would never repay.