profession paid enough to afford a home like this.
Side by side, Fatimah and I worked, scrubbing floors and toilets, counters, and appliances. Before I knew it, we were done and she was packing up our supplies for the next job.
She insisted we ride together to the next house to save on gas, and in my financial situation, I wasn’t about to argue. I sat beside her in her old Chrysler LeBaron, trying to name the spice the car reeked of. The fabric roof was held up with pushpins every inch or so, giving it a coffin-liner appearance. The console on my side was torn, offering a clear view of the yellow foam under the hard plastic. As she drove, she threw me a glance. “I make purchase of this car for two hundred dollar.”
Not knowing what to say, I nodded.
She thrust two fingers at me. “Two hundred dollar. Imagine!”
I wasn’t sure if she thought that was expensive or cheap. So I went with a generic, “Wow.”
“Two hundred dollar would feed my village.” The look she gave me told me I should find the humor in that, but I didn’t get it. “I almost forget.” She leaned over, opened the glove box, pulled out a rectangular piece of paper, and handed it to me. “Callie says it is advance. You will get the other portion in two weeks.”
I looked down at the check made out to me and almost cried in relief. This was half of what she’d promised to paybimonthly. It touched me that she trusted I wouldn’t just take the money and run. It was a good reminder that not everyone was as cynical as Trent.
I folded the check, slipped it into my back pocket, and picked at the hole in the knee of my jeans. “Was it hard living there—at the refugee camp, I mean?”
She sighed. “I make many friends who became my family, but I still missed my own. My sisters and brother. They are mostly gone except my father, who I am dead to, and only one sister. She is married to . . .” Her shoulders shimmied and her lips puckered like she tasted something bitter. I took it she wasn’t a fan of her brother-in-law. “I tried to buy her here, but I won’t buy for him, too. He is one of the men who . . .” She couldn’t finish, and by the haunted look in her eyes, I wasn’t sure I wanted her to.
She jerked the steering wheel hard and fast as if remembering her turn a second too late. I slapped my palm against the door just in time to prevent the side of my head from hitting the window. We nearly took out a buzzard pecking at roadkill as we screeched around the bend. The bird shrieked, stretched out its enormous wings, and flew away from the flattened fur in the nick of time. My stomach, which had settled since that morning, started to roil again. I took a deep breath and focused on the road ahead.
A wave of warmth rushed through me and I pulled at my shirt collar. Hot air streamed from the dashboard vents. I rolled down my window and let the spring air hit my face. “You don’t like your sister’s husband.”
“Yes, I do. I like him very much—in a pot of stew.” This got her laughing. “With potatoes and carrots,” she added.
For all I knew about the world back then, they really might have been cannibals in Sudan. She must have seen the uncertainty on my face because she pulled in front of a house half the size of the first, shut off the engine, and bared her teeth. “I eat you, too!” When she chomped in my direction, I jumped in my seat.
This got her to laughing again. “We eat cows and vegetables, not white people. Do not worry.”
“What about squirrel?” I asked.
“A squirrel is a rat. So, yes, I would eat one.”
We both chuckled at that one, though I still didn’t understand her humor enough to know if she did eat squirrel and rat, or didn’t. It didn’t much matter to me what she ate, where she was from, or how she mispronounced my name, I liked her. Staring at her beautiful profile, I smiled. Callie Mae was exactly right.
I sighed in contentment. Now I have two friends, I thought with a
Side by side, Fatimah and I worked, scrubbing floors and toilets, counters, and appliances. Before I knew it, we were done and she was packing up our supplies for the next job.
She insisted we ride together to the next house to save on gas, and in my financial situation, I wasn’t about to argue. I sat beside her in her old Chrysler LeBaron, trying to name the spice the car reeked of. The fabric roof was held up with pushpins every inch or so, giving it a coffin-liner appearance. The console on my side was torn, offering a clear view of the yellow foam under the hard plastic. As she drove, she threw me a glance. “I make purchase of this car for two hundred dollar.”
Not knowing what to say, I nodded.
She thrust two fingers at me. “Two hundred dollar. Imagine!”
I wasn’t sure if she thought that was expensive or cheap. So I went with a generic, “Wow.”
“Two hundred dollar would feed my village.” The look she gave me told me I should find the humor in that, but I didn’t get it. “I almost forget.” She leaned over, opened the glove box, pulled out a rectangular piece of paper, and handed it to me. “Callie says it is advance. You will get the other portion in two weeks.”
I looked down at the check made out to me and almost cried in relief. This was half of what she’d promised to paybimonthly. It touched me that she trusted I wouldn’t just take the money and run. It was a good reminder that not everyone was as cynical as Trent.
I folded the check, slipped it into my back pocket, and picked at the hole in the knee of my jeans. “Was it hard living there—at the refugee camp, I mean?”
She sighed. “I make many friends who became my family, but I still missed my own. My sisters and brother. They are mostly gone except my father, who I am dead to, and only one sister. She is married to . . .” Her shoulders shimmied and her lips puckered like she tasted something bitter. I took it she wasn’t a fan of her brother-in-law. “I tried to buy her here, but I won’t buy for him, too. He is one of the men who . . .” She couldn’t finish, and by the haunted look in her eyes, I wasn’t sure I wanted her to.
She jerked the steering wheel hard and fast as if remembering her turn a second too late. I slapped my palm against the door just in time to prevent the side of my head from hitting the window. We nearly took out a buzzard pecking at roadkill as we screeched around the bend. The bird shrieked, stretched out its enormous wings, and flew away from the flattened fur in the nick of time. My stomach, which had settled since that morning, started to roil again. I took a deep breath and focused on the road ahead.
A wave of warmth rushed through me and I pulled at my shirt collar. Hot air streamed from the dashboard vents. I rolled down my window and let the spring air hit my face. “You don’t like your sister’s husband.”
“Yes, I do. I like him very much—in a pot of stew.” This got her laughing. “With potatoes and carrots,” she added.
For all I knew about the world back then, they really might have been cannibals in Sudan. She must have seen the uncertainty on my face because she pulled in front of a house half the size of the first, shut off the engine, and bared her teeth. “I eat you, too!” When she chomped in my direction, I jumped in my seat.
This got her to laughing again. “We eat cows and vegetables, not white people. Do not worry.”
“What about squirrel?” I asked.
“A squirrel is a rat. So, yes, I would eat one.”
We both chuckled at that one, though I still didn’t understand her humor enough to know if she did eat squirrel and rat, or didn’t. It didn’t much matter to me what she ate, where she was from, or how she mispronounced my name, I liked her. Staring at her beautiful profile, I smiled. Callie Mae was exactly right.
I sighed in contentment. Now I have two friends, I thought with a
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