Chapter 6
Anna had pneumonia.
Untreated.
Exhaustion.
Malnutrition.
Stress.
Words doctors use when poverty has been chewing on someone for years.
I moved her to a private hospital that night.
She fought me.
Even feverish, she fought.
“I don’t want your money.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because I should have been.”
Elijah watched from the corner, arms crossed.
He trusted me less than the shelter director.
Good.
Trust should cost me something.
At the hospital, Anna slept.
Elijah refused the cafeteria food until Ruth told him it was safe.
Safe.
My grandson needed permission to eat.
I turned away so he would not see my face break.
Melissa arrived with more files.
Miguel had reported unsafe equipment three times before his death.
Victor buried the reports.
After Miguel died, legal blamed worker error.
Anna appealed.
Victor blocked her.
Then her rent assistance was denied because she was “aggressive toward company representatives.”
I read until my hands shook.
“My nephew did this.”
Melissa’s voice was quiet.
“Your company did this.”
I looked at her.
She was right.
Victor was not a storm.
He was a door I had left unlocked.
Anna woke near midnight.
I sat beside her bed.
She looked at me for a long time.
“Did Elijah talk to you?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a good boy.”
“I know.”
“He sits with that sign because Miguel used to say it.”
God sees every choice.
My chest ached.
Anna whispered, “I wrote you.”
“I know.”
“You never answered.”
“I never saw them. But that does not excuse me.”
May you like
She closed her eyes.
“No. It doesn’t.”
