The Way It Works by William Kowalski

come on. Give a sister some credit. The signs were all there.”
    â€œWhat signs?” I say. “I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it!”
    â€œFirst of all, you wore the same suit every day,” says Yolanda. “That was kind of a clue. Second of all, why would you come in here if you had a place of your own? You needed a mailbox because you needed an address to put on your résumé. Am I right?”
    â€œYou should have been a detective,” I say.
    â€œAnd another thing. You checked your email here all the time. Most likely, if you had a place of your own, you would have a computer too. But instead you used this one. So that was another clue.”
    â€œYou should have been a senior detective,” I say. “Anything else, Sherlock Holmes?”
    â€œYou did let a couple of hints drop,” Yolanda says. “Like when we were out to dinner, you said you had a small place downtown. A really small place. You may not know this, but you looked out the window at your car when you said that.”
    â€œI did?”
    â€œYup. Body language is a dead giveaway.”
    â€œYou’re scaring me,” I say. “So…you knew I was homeless, and you agreed to go out with me anyway?”
    â€œYes, I did.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Yolanda rolls her eyes.
    â€œDo I really have to answer that one?” she says.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œWalter, first of all, I knew enough about you to know that you’re no bum. I could see how hard you were working to find a job. I know sometimes people just catch a bunch of bad breaks. That’s not your fault. I knew you were the kind of guy who wouldn’t rest until you’d gotten what you wanted out of life. And that made me respect you.”
    â€œWow,” I say. “I wish I had known that.”
    â€œWalter, what is wrong with you?” she says. “The fact that I went out with you wasn’t enough to tell you how I felt? You think I just go out with any old guy who asks me? I’m very picky. Ask my parents. You’re the first guy I’ve ever brought home to meet them.”
    â€œYou’re kidding me,” I say.
    â€œNo, I’m not kidding,” she says. “That’s why it hurt me so bad when you didn’t show up. I was beside myself, Walter. All I could think of was that you were hurt and couldn’t get help.”
    â€œYolanda,” I say, “will you ever forgive me for being such an idiot?”
    She gives me yet another long look. But this time, there’s a tiny smile playing around her lips.
    â€œWalter,” she says, “go check your email.”
    â€œWhat? Why?”
    â€œBecause I sent you something.”
    â€œYou sent me an email? How did you even know my address?”
    Yolanda reaches under the counter and holds up a piece of paper. My résumé. It has my email address on it.
    â€œWhen you came in to make copies of this, I made myself an extra one.”
    I’m amazed. “You did? But why?”
    â€œI was curious to know more about you. Now, go check your email.”
    I go over to the computer and log in to my email account. I haven’t checked it in a long time. There are a lot of messages. Some of them are from places I asked for a job, but I don’t care about those anymore. I keep looking through my inbox until I find a message from Yolanda. I click on it to open it up.
    It reads:
    Wherever you are, and whatever happened, it’s okay. Just come back.
    That’s all it says. I check the message header to see when she sent it. The date is over two weeks old.
    I get up and go back to the counter.
    â€œYou sent that before I even came back to apologize,” I say.
    â€œBelieve me, there were times I wished I hadn’t sent it. But now I’m glad I did.”
    â€œSo am I,” I say. “Thank you so much.”
    â€œYou’re welcome,” she says.
    â€œI…I don’t