She wore a green cardigan and slippers shaped like clouds. She did not ask Laurel why she had failed. She asked whether Dash had any allergies, whether Laurel needed clean clothes for work, and whether either of them had eaten dinner.
Within half an hour, Dash was seated at a kitchen table with a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich cut into triangles.
Laurel sat across from him but barely touched her own food.
Every few minutes, she looked toward the front door as though expecting someone to enter and announce that a mistake had been made.
Denise placed a brass key beside her plate.
“Room three,” she said. “Bathroom is at the end of the hall. Breakfast begins at six.”
Laurel looked at the key.
“What do I owe?”
“Nothing tonight.”
“I can pay Friday.”
“We’ll discuss plans tomorrow.”
“I don’t take charity.”
Denise leaned one hand against the table.
“Neither do most people who arrive here. They take a bed.”
Dash dipped the corner of his sandwich into his soup.
“Is there a bed for Bunny?”
Denise smiled. “Bunny can have a pillow.”
Dash seemed satisfied.
Laurel did not smile, but her eyes softened.
After Dash finished eating, Ruth took him upstairs to find pajamas from the center’s clothing closet. Laurel remained at the table, still staring at the key.
I sat across from her.
“What happened to Mrs. Alvarez?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“She would never leave him.”
“Does she have a phone?”
“It was disconnected last month. She said she didn’t need one because everyone she cared about knew where to find her.”
“That sounds inconvenient.”
A faint breath left Laurel’s nose. It was almost a laugh.
“That’s Mrs. Alvarez.”
“How long has she been watching Dash?”
“Six months.”
“For free?”
“I clean her apartment on Sundays. She brings him to preschool. It worked.”
“Until today.”
