“Mind the edges,” he said, because the can was raggedy where the top had come off, and it’s not like we had spoons.
I sat on the dirt under my tarp, and the rain just let go. Just all at once like that. Like somebody opened a trapdoor in the sky and all this water fell at the same time.
My tarp tent didn’t have a bottom to it, so right away the mud started to flow, so I squatted on my sneakers and let it roll right under me. I drank the soup and it was really hot, and even though it was only vegetable, it was good.
I squatted there and sipped at it and watched the lightning and listened to the thunder, and when the lightning lit up the world, I could see how much water was flowing down the river, and it was scary because there was so much.
I didn’t sleep that night, but I was grateful, because the world looked beautiful in that big storm, and because I knew that somewhere in the world there was somebody who didn’t have a can of hot soup, and I did.
You’d think I’d be feeling sorry for myself, but somehow that just wasn’t the kind of night it was and I couldn’t even tell you why.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Brooke: Where Molly?
Etta and I had moved, quite temporarily, to the home of that friend I’d been telling Molly about. Caroline. And the irony just drips off this next piece of information: our accommodations were in Caroline’s garage. At least it had access to a close bathroom, just off the laundry room on the other side of the kitchen door. But it was still hard to avoid the feeling that the universe was having a laugh at my expense.
Caroline stuck her head in through the door into the garage. From the kitchen.
“You’re back,” she said.
“I am.”
“Did you find her?”
“No.”
She sighed. Then she came in and sat on the cot next to me. She reached for Etta, and I let Etta go to her. She bounced the baby on her lap as she stared at me. I sensed a lecture coming. I’m not sure how I was able to sense that. She had never lectured me before.
“I think it might be time to give up looking for her. It’s like a needle in a haystack in this massive city. Shouldn’t you be looking for an apartment instead?”
I took it as a shot to the gut. Like someone had slammed a rifle butt into my midsection. Well. Not someone. Caroline.
I had found an apartment that morning. I had no idea how to afford it, but I had it. Meanwhile I hadn’t known I was wearing out my welcome so fast.
“I found one,” I said. “This morning. Before I ever started looking for Molly.”
Etta interrupted. “Where Molly?” she asked. Insistently. Piercingly.
She’d been asking it a lot lately. I was no closer to an answer for her.
“I’m sorry, honey,” I told my little girl, “but I don’t know right now. But I’m still trying.” Then, to Caroline, “I can move in next week. The first is next week. But if it’s really a problem having us here, I understand. We can go to a motel for these last few days.”
We didn’t really have the money for a motel. But we didn’t really have the money for any of the things I had planned. It was all a matter of sinking deeper and deeper into debt.
Still, if we weren’t wanted . . .
“Oh, no, honey,” she said. “Brooke, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just want to see you get your life back together.”
“I’m working on it,” I said.
“Well, I should say so!”
I thought we’d leave it at that. Even though what she’d just said didn’t feel entirely true. She wanted me to get my life together, but she also wanted her garage back. So she meant it in a number of different ways. At least, that’s what my gut was telling me. She just didn’t want me to take it badly. She didn’t want my reaction to her subtext to come up for discussion. She didn’t want to have to feel bad because of what she really meant. Which was just human, I guess, but it still hurt a little.
She’d just come from the hair salon, and her hair was shockingly short. Stylish, but short. She could pull it off. I couldn’t have. But it reminded me of Grace Beatty. It made me think maybe I should call Grace or drop in to see her. Maybe she could be some help in my search for Molly. Probably not, actually. But it couldn’t hurt to ask.
Meanwhile I wasn’t keeping up my end of the conversation with Caroline. So she plunged back in.
“What kind of job did you get?”
“Nothing very good. Just retail sales like last time. Standing on my feet all day in a department store. Making sure no one takes more than three items into the changing room. Mundane stuff.”
“Still, though. It’s still good. I mean, you start your new job on Monday, and you can move into your own place on the first. Sounds like you’re all set.”
“But I’m not, Caroline. I’m not set at all. Because the job will cover rent and food and gas but it won’t cover childcare. Why do you think I’m trying so hard to figure out where Molly is? If I have to take Etta back to day care—and I will have to, if I want to actually show up at this job—then I’ll fall into a pit of debt, and in just a couple of months it will bury me.”
“Maybe you could get some more from your mother,” she said.
It was a reference to an envelope that had turned up in her foyer. Slid under her front door. It was a note from my mother, saying something to the effect that
