Impossible Dreams by Patricia Rice Page B

victim of it often enough, Maya had a healthy respect for Fate.
    “If you mean Constance Holm, I’m pleased to meet
you. I’m Maya Alyssum, her after-school teacher. Constance is a delightful
child.”
    The woman looked startled, then wary as she took in
Maya’s thrift shop maternity jumper and unfashionable shawl.
“Pleased to meet you,” she said uncertainly, not offering her hand.
    Accustomed to that reaction, Maya shrugged it off and removed
the crystal ball from the counter case. “I wouldn’t recommend this
for most eight-year-olds, but Constance has her father’s carefulness with
material things. She adores crystals and this globe fascinates her. I can
guarantee hugs in return for this gift.”
    Instead of looking at the crystal, the woman studied Maya.
“You’re a teacher?”
    Alarm bells clamored at her veiled note of disdain, but Maya
merely smiled more brightly. “Masters in early childhood education. I was
working forty hours a week at the time so I missed Phi Beta Kappa, but
otherwise, my credentials are quite astonishing. The public university
didn’t require Liz Claiborne suits for a passing grade,” she
finished dryly in the face of her customer’s visible disbelief.
    The bell over the door clamored as it swung in on a spring
breeze and the healthy shove of an exuberant teenager. “Hey, Maya,
Matty’s dragons are cool. Could you paint some on my shoes?”
    “Even Miss Kidd likes ’em,” Matty
announced proudly, releasing the teenager’s hand and hurrying over to
display his red dragon for general inspection. “Shelly says they’s
better ’an smiley faces.” He beamed with delight.
    Matty’s happiness melted Maya into a warm puddle of
mush. Not in the months since his mother’s arrest and his aunt’s
arrival had he shown any evidence of pure childhood pleasure. That something so
simple as a silly dragon could produce it, a dragon she had created, engulfed
her with pride.
    “Well, when we get your new sneakers, we’ll have
to paint even bigger dragons on them,” she declared. “We’d
better hurry over to the store before we go see Miss Selene.”
    Daringly deciding Matty’s happiness was more important
than impressing her condescending customer, Maya handed the crystal ball to her
clerk. “Teresa, if you would help Constance’s grandmother,
I’d appreciate it.”
    Wiping the dust off her hands with a towel she kept for the
purpose, she emerged from behind the counter. Not wishing to encounter the
unpleasant sight of her customer’s mouth hanging open in shock, Maya
simply took Matty’s hand and swept out the door. Burning bridges was her
specialty.
    ***
    They found a practically new pair of padded athletic shoes
at the Salvation Army store around the corner from the shop. Matty displayed
them proudly to Selene and anyone else who expressed interest after they
arrived at school. At one point during the afternoon he wore one dragon shoe
and one new shoe. A five-year-old’s ability to take pleasure in simple
things warmed Maya’s scarred and jaded heart.
    It didn’t, however, warm her wallet, she thought as
they headed home to an empty refrigerator. She’d spent her last
five-dollar bill on the shoes. She hated to ask Selene for an advance on her
salary. She’d been trying to use the proceeds from the shop to slowly pay
off the mountain of bills in Cleo’s mail, but if it came down to a choice
between borrowing from the till or feeding Matty, she’d have to choose
the latter, she decided as their ride stopped the car at their street corner.
    Trying to remember how many eggs remained in the
apartment’s little refrigerator and wondering if a withered bell pepper
and a piece of onion counted as vegetables, Maya wearily helped Matty from the
back seat and waved farewell to the mother of one of her students. Living only
a few blocks from the town’s main highway into the city had the advantage
of being on the route to almost everyone’s home. If Selene wasn’t
available,