Chapter 3
Mara’s mom spent a lot of time looking for a job, but there weren’t really any to be had. All the seasonal jobs had been filled since November and long term jobs weren’t really looking during the holidays. She finally found a waitressing job at an all-night diner. It was out by the highway. The hours were 8PM to 8 AM Tuesday through Saturday. The pay was low. Cooper and Mara rarely saw their mother awake. Mara spent Saturdays at the library to give her mother a chance to sleep. Cooper hung out with his friends or came with her. It was tough but they were scraping by. Then their little Focus broke down. It needed $800 worth of work. They just didn’t have it.
Mara put up a card for babysitting at the library. She got a call from a creepy guy who wanted to know what she would wear when she came to babysit. She took the card down. She asked her mom if she had called her dad. Maybe he could help them out. Her mom didn’t meet her eyes--rare for her mom.
“Did you call Dad?” Mara pushed.
“Mara,” her mom hesitated, “We, I,” she restated it, “I need to figure this out for myself. Dad made it clear that he wouldn’t be willing to help me out if I moved you guys to Texas.”
“But he was moving to Kentucky.”
“Well, the army moved him to Kentucky. He wanted us to go there, but he was leaving for Afghanistan and I didn’t want to live there alone. I thought Texas would be a good place for us. More affordable. We can make this work, Mara. We will just have to do without a car for awhile. There’s the bus and there’s taxis in an emergency.”
“What about Christmas?” Mara asked belligerently.
“Christmas will be . . . small this year,” her mom conceded.
“This so totally unfair,” she fumed tears forming, “I wanted to stay in California with my friends. You had friends there. They would have been willing to help us. We don’t know anyone here.” Her voice was cracking apart struggling to hold the words into sentences, “No one cares about us here. This sucks. We’re alone here.” Mara’s anger grew like a avalanche--in speed, scope, and destructive power. Abruptly she stood up and left the apartment slamming the door behind her. Great move, she thought as she stomped down the stairs to somewhere else besides a room with her mother. No coat and it's probably 35 degrees. She decided to go to Boaz’s till she cooled down. She had never been to his apartment, but she had a pretty good idea which one was his.
The apartment building where they lived, The Koberlyn Apartments, was more complex of buildings. There were four sets of apartments three stories high. Each of the four buildings were divided by a set of stairs. Together they formed a fortress around a pool that was closed for the winter and small, sad play area. Mara thought about where she had seen Boaz come out of the complex in the mornings for school and where he went back in the afternoon. There was the one time she saw him carrying an empty laundry basket. He went up the stairs, she spun slowly, over there.
As she climbed the set of stairs she was alert to every sound behind the apartment doors. There were two apartments for every floor and there were three floors. Her chances were one in six if she had the right stairwell. Her heart sped up at the thought of talking to a stranger. It would probably be a creepy stranger. One who would try to get her to come in so he could do creepy things. Mara jumped when a dog barked loudly behind the door on the right of the first landing. She had never seen him with a dog. The other door had a wreath thing that said “Welcome to the Gomez’s.” She was pretty sure his last name wasn’t Gomez so she went up another flight.
This landing had one door with a welcome mat that said “I got this door mat for my husband. It was a good trade.” Mara thought that sounded like Boaz’s sense of humor, but he wasn’t a woman or divorced. The door on the other side had a sticky that said, “I work nights. Sleeping. Go away.” That person must love the dog downstairs who was still giving the occasional bark. Mara realized Boaz didn’t really talk about his family. He had one probably. He was still in high school so he had to have someone. Mara wasn’t sure about either door so she decided to go up one more floor. It was breezier on the top floor. She gave a shiver and wished again that she’d brought her coat or even a sweater. From this height she could see more of San Angelo. It was so flat and brown. Monterey, even in winter, had been green and dramatic with the ocean and the hills. It was take-your-breath-away amazing. Beyond the brown of San Angelo was the brown of the dessert.
The wind gave a gust. Mara shivered and forced herself to focus on finding Boaz’s apartment. She looked at the door on the left. Being the top floor no one came up here much. This showed as the doorway on the left was littered with shoes. Most of them were work boots or tennis shoes. They all looked scuffed and dirty. Some were perilously close to sneaking under the back rail and falling three stories to the ground below. Opposite the shoe door was a doorway with a small bench against the rail. There was a flower pot neatly trimmed back for winter. The door held a Christmas wreath. Underneath the wreath a small flag hung that had a cheerfully fat Santa looking contemplative. He was thinking: naughty or nice? Mara took a small step toward the door when it popped open. A short, chunky, gray haired woman looked at Mara contemplatively. Her face wrinkles made her about her dad’s mom age. 60ish? Mara wondered if she was thinking: naughty or nice?
“Lost?” she asked.
“Looking for Boaz’s apartment,” Mara stuttered out.
The woman evaluated her intently. Finally, she tilted her dark head to the side and said, “You’re part of that family that moved into apartment 623.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Your mom works at the highway diner. What your name?” her tone made not answering impossible. She was probably a teacher or matron at a prison. Not a person to put up with crap.
“Mara, Mara Munroe. . . . Ma’am.” It needed to be said.
“Well, Mara, welcome to the Koberlyn Apartments. Boaz is down a floor at the one with the husband doormat.” She pointed. There was something strange about her hands. They reminded Mara of twisted Cypress tree trunks. The fingers didn’t come straight out from the woman’s hands, but seemed to spiral from the sockets. Mara thought that they probable didn't bend well or at all. How did this woman hold things? Did her hands hurt?
“Thank you, ma’am,” Mara replied belatedly backing away.
The woman nodded and said, “Try not to spook his daddy.”
What was that about? “Okay,” Mara replied and waited for her to go back inside. She didn’t. She just stood watching Mara. Maybe she thought she was going to steal her plant or the flag. Mara started down the stairs she called over her shoulder, “Okay. Umm thanks.”
She turned at the between floors landing. She could still see the woman looking at her when she paused. She scurried down the last eight steps to the second floor. Still no sound of a door closing. Mara went to the door with doormat. The woman’s voice floated down, “That’s the one.” So Mara knocked. She heard rustling in the room and faint sound of an inner door closing.
The door jerked open and there was Boaz. “Mara,” he looked surprised.
“Hi, umm, hey could I come in for a few minutes? I, umm, my mom and me, umm, could I just come in?” She didn't want to spell everything out for the woman surely listening upstairs. Mara could sense Boaz’s reluctance to let her in. It was in his face and body. Was he ashamed for his family to see her? He looked over his shoulder and then scrubbed his head.
“Oh, sure,” he nodded gesturing for her to enter, “Come in.”
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