The shelters are over capacity, and the flu is running through them like wildfire. " So Martha stayed. She wasn't a burden, strangely enough. When her mind was clear, she was sharp, witty, and possessed a quiet, commanding presence that didn't fit her fragile frame. She organized Dean's chaotic receipt drawer. She sat on an overturned milk crate in the garage and watched him work, asking surprisingly perceptive questions about torque and brake pads.
And she watched Noah. On Sunday afternoon, Dean was underneath a Ford F-150, wrestling with a rusted exhaust pipe. He could see Martha and Noah sitting at the small folding table in the corner of the shop. "Noah was aggressively coloring a dinosaur. " "Green is a fine color for a T-Rex," Martha was saying, her voice echoing slightly over the concrete floor. But don't you think he looks a little pedestrian?
Maybe some purple spikes to warn his enemies. Noah giggled. Dinosaurs don't wear purple. The rich ones did, Martha said matterof factly. Dean slid out from under the truck on his creeper.
He wiped his greasy hands on a rag. Martha, Dean called out. I called the local hospitals again. Nobody is looking for a Martha. You sure you don't remember a last name, an address, a street name?
The fog rolled back in. It was instantaneous. Dean watched the rigid posture melt away. Her shoulders slumped. The light in her eyes fractured, replaced by a vacant, distant stare.
"Audrey was supposed to pick me up," she mumbled, staring at the green crayon in her hand. She has the car. The big car. She works so hard. I just wanted to get the bread.
The bakery on on She dropped the crayon. Her hands started to shake. Dean cursed himself silently. He walked over, kneeling beside the crate. "Hey, it's okay.
Don't force it. She'll find you. Someone's looking for you. I promise. " "She's so angry. " Martha whispered, a tear leaking from the corner of her eye, tracking through the deep wrinkles of her cheek. She carries the whole world.
It makes her angry. "We'll figure it out," Dean lied smoothly. He didn't know how he was going to figure it out. His bank account was overdrawn by $40. He had 80 bucks in his pocket to last until Wednesday.
Having an extra mouth to feed, even one that ate like a bird, was stretching him to the breaking point. Yesterday, he had skipped lunch and dinner, drinking black coffee until his stomach cramped, just to make sure Noah and Martha had enough chicken and rice. He was drowning. But he looked at the old woman, tracing the edge of the coloring book with trembling fingers, and he knew he couldn't throw her back to the streets. Noah, Dean said, standing up.
Show Martha how you draw a purple T-Rex. I have to make a phone call. Dean went into his office and shut the door. He pulled out the stack of bills. The eviction warning on the shop was highlighted in neon yellow.
30 days. If he didn't come up with $4,000 in 30 days, the bank was taking the garage. He had tried everything. Loans, picking up night shifts, selling his own car. It wasn't enough.