“We’ll get our stuff and leave,” Samuel continued. “I swear, we both thought this place was empty. We didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You – you,” the woman started to stutter, her soft voice quavered in the atmosphere of the apartment. “You worked at Trident?”
Austin’s heart sunk, knowing that was the piece of information the woman was going to pick up on. From Samuel’s expression it was clear he was worried about being recognized as she peered closely at him.
“Yes,” Austin replied, jumping in before Samuel could answer and taking some of the heat off of his friend. The elderly woman was assessing his face carefully now. “I worked in administration and Samuel was the Marketing Director – neither of us had any involvement in what happened to the money and we’ve both been affected by it ourselves. We’re trying –”
“You’re the man from the television!” The woman pointed an aged finger at Samuel and shook it. “You’re the man who told us all our money was gone for good!”
Samuel’s heart sunk, his shoulders sagged and his chest constricted, waiting for the woman to blame him for what had happened. “I am,” was all he could reply.
“It wasn’t Samuel’s fault,” Austin jumped in. While the old woman certainly couldn’t bring either of them any harm, Austin had spent enough time with Samuel now to recognize when the man was struggling and the fact that he was still being blamed for this disaster was clearly affecting him. “He had nothing to do with the money disappearing,” Austin continued. “In fact, he just wanted to tell the public the truth. He wanted people to know what had really happened rather than the lies Trident wanted everyone to believe. He was trying to help us.”
The woman looked at Samuel more closely, then did the same with Austin. Both of them stayed perfectly still and quiet, Samuel still frightened about her reaction to them while Austin worried about the handgun he had hidden behind his back. It felt like forever passed in silence until the woman finally spoke up again.
“I know it wasn’t anybody’s fault,” she shook her head, making a tutting noise with her tongue as she did so. “I don’t blame you.”
Samuel heaved a sigh of relief and relaxed somewhat as the woman finally moved away from the door, her assessment of the two men seeming to have told her that she wasn’t in danger.
“What did you say your names were again?”
“I’m Samuel, Samuel Westchester,” he answered, turning and following the woman with his eyes as she walked across the room into the kitchen, turning on lights as she went.
“Austin Taylor. I’m really sorry about breaking into your apartment.”
“Oh, you haven’t even broken it,” the old woman remarked, inspecting the window through which the two men had entered. “Thanks for that. I don’t know what I’d do if you had. Super’s long gone.”
Austin looked at Samuel and raised his eyebrows, surprised by the old woman’s attitude. She opened the window and closed it again, making a noise under her breath as she saw it still fastened properly. Austin had managed to jimmy it open with relative ease, and it hadn’t been hard to reattach the fastening once inside to make it look like they hadn’t broken in. The old woman nodded along, turning away from the window and pouring herself a glass of water from the faucet.
“Well I don’t see why the two of you can’t stay here overnight now you’re here,” she spoke, taking the both of them by surprise. “You gave me quite a fright earlier, but you both seem like nice men. It’s been lonely here recently; I won’t mind the company.”
“Are you sure…” Samuel paused, waiting for the woman to fill him in with her name.
“Agnes Porter.”
“Mrs. Porter,” Samuel continued, addressing the woman formally as he still felt uncomfortable in her apartment and like he and Austin would be better off getting out of her way. “We can find somewhere else to stay, really. We would’ve never come in if we knew someone still lived here.”
Agnes Porter let out a little chuckle, looking around her apartment and smiling. “Yes, I suppose it’s not really looking its best in here right now,” she sighed. “I’ve had little motivation to clean since all of this happened.”
Samuel smiled politely and nodded, trying to figure Agnes out. She had been so terrified of them when she first entered the apartment, but now spoke to them like old friends. It was like Agnes had adapted so quickly to life in the disaster that, other than the initial fright, she was fine with whoever was there.
“That’s very kind of you Mrs. Porter,” Austin replied, thanking her for the offer to stay overnight. “We’ll get out of your hair first thing in the morning. We’re on our way to Poughkeepsie to reunite with my family. I’ve got a little boy there who’s waiting for me.”
“Ah, how wonderful,” Agnes smiled, clapping her hands together at the news. “How old is he? What’s his name?”
“Bowie,” Austin replied with a smile. “He’s seven in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh, bless him. We’ll do anything for our children won’t we.” She turned to Samuel. “Do you have any?” She maintained a cheery level of conversation like it was the middle of the day and they were old friends sitting outside of a coffee shop catching up. Neither man could shake how weird it felt to be engaging like this with a stranger, especially considering what was happening to the rest of the world. But it became apparent very quickly that this was what Agnes Porter needed to do to keep herself sane and her mind off of the chaos, to save herself from falling into a deep pit of depression.
As the three of them talked, Samuel and Austin came to learn that she had lost
