Chapter 2 - The Shadow of the Limo
The car was longer than our entire living room,
black and shiny like a beetle’s shell.
I sat on the soft leather seat,
my dusty sneakers feeling out of place against the deep pile carpet.
Mr. Graves sat opposite me,
staring out the window as the city blurred past.
He hadn't said much since we left the tower,
but he kept looking at the eviction notice he had taken from my bag.
"Does she talk about me?"
he asked suddenly,
not looking away from the glass.
"My mom?"
I asked,
swinging my legs.
"She doesn't talk about anyone much,
just says we have to keep moving forward."
He let out a long,
shaky breath that sounded like a sigh.
"She was always headstrong,"
he muttered,
almost to himself,
"just like her mother was."
I watched the tall buildings of downtown fade away,
replaced by the cracked sidewalks and gray walls of my neighborhood.
The driver looked nervous,
glancing in the rearview mirror at the billionaire in the back of his car.
We pulled up to the curb of our apartment building,
where the trash cans were overflowing and the paint was peeling in long,
sad strips.
A group of boys playing stickball stopped to stare at the magnificent car.
"This is it,"
I said,
feeling a sudden bloom of shame for our home.
"It's not very nice."
Mr. Graves looked out at the building,
his jaw tightening until a muscle pulsed in his cheek.
"It's a cage,"
he growled,
but his eyes were full of sorrow,
not anger at me.
He stepped out of the car,
and the neighborhood went silent.
He looked like a king standing in a graveyard,
his expensive suit glowing under the flickering streetlights.
"Lead the way,
Ruby,"
he said,
offering me his arm as if I were a little lady.
We walked up the three flights of stairs,
the wood creaking and groaning under his weight.
The smell of cabbage and old dust filled the hallway.
At the end of the corridor,
I saw our door,
with the sticky residue where the eviction notice had been.
My heart started to race,
thinking about how Mom would react to a stranger in a suit.
"She's probably crying,"
I whispered,
stopping at the door.
"She thinks we have to leave tomorrow."
Mr. Graves put a hand on my shoulder,
and I could feel him shaking.
"She’s not leaving,"
he promised,
his voice thick with emotion.
"Nobody is ever going to make her leave again."
I turned the handle,
which was always loose,
and pushed the door open.
The small room was dim,
lit only by a single lamp on the table.
My mom was sitting there,
her head in her hands,
surrounded by half-packed cardboard boxes.
"Ruby?"
she said,
not looking up yet.
"I told you to stay at the library until I called you."
"I found something,
Mom,"
I said,
stepping into the room.
"I found someone."
She raised her head,
her eyes red and swollen from hours of weeping.
She saw me first,
then her eyes traveled upward to the man standing in our doorway.
The color drained from her face so fast I thought she might faint.
"Dad?"
May you like
she whispered,
the word hanging in the air like a prayer or a curse.
