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By Root 626 0

magazine reporters leave. Something in his tone irritates her. What? His eagerness, his delight in the attention? Let him have his moment, she reminds herself uneasily. Ken's words; he can't understand her need to always bring people back down to earth. Solid ground. Reality, where life should be lived. The safest place, for her, anyway. Happiness so often trails a long shadow: another of her mother's bracing maxims. She knows Ken's right. He's been after her for years to “stop and smell the roses instead of being such a slave to the clock and other people's rules.” And she has been trying, but lately he only seems annoyed. Last Friday, seeing his agitation after a meeting with Oliver, she suggested they hop in the car and drive to New York for the weekend the way they used to. Find a nice hotel room, then wander around the city for two days, just the two of them. “C'mon!” she teased, flipping him the car keys. They landed on the floor. “Why?” he asked with such bewilderment that she felt foolish.

Father Grewley's telephone rings. “Hello!” he answers, beaming at Nora. The calls have been coming in all day, well-wishers, new people wanting to jump aboard. “Wonderful! He is? Yes, of course. We'd be honored! Oh … well, actually, they just left.” Congressman Linzer's office, he says, hanging up. He laughs. “His assistant said they're going to try and get the reporters back. See if they need coverage of the congressman looking the place over.”

“God, he's such a publicity hound!”

“But useful to the cause,” Father Grewley laughs.

Like herself, she thinks. A cog. Like the volunteers in the dining room setting the dinner tables. Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy tonight, the priest announces with the clatter of plates and flatware. He invites her to stay and eat with him and the “guests.” Alice would love spending more time with her, he says. Nora's been such a good mentor to her. She wishes she could, she says, squirming. Actually, she can't stand eating here. She'll do anything to help Father Grewley and these unfortunate women. She painted the kitchen walls and helped clean out the verminous cellar, but the thought of actually sitting down and sharing a meal here makes her queasy. Another unsettling truth about herself that demands compensation, longer hours, harder work, and more money.

e's already passed two shelters. The best one is on the other side of the city. Fastidious in appearance, he puts a high price on quality. The irony of his rattish slither close to the buildings isn't lost on him as he tries to avoid the downpour from the roof edges. Crossing the street, he runs. The rain pelts him in blinding sheets. He ducks into a brightly lit drugstore. His shoes squish loudly on his way to the back. His wet clothes are plastered to his trim frame. He aches with humiliation. He can't get into his room. In addition to back rent, the landlady says he owes her $440. The computer's a piece of junk, and she wants her money back. The woman's a bald-faced liar, claiming it's stolen, because her nephew traced the serial numbers. There are no serial numbers. He removed them before he sold it to her. It was working fine until she let her kids play with it. People are always trying to take advantage. Disrespect. There's only so much he can take.

The clerk limps up the aisle. Everyone's got something, some flaw, their price for living. Headaches are his. Some days he can't even get out of bed. A bad hip people can see; a headache, they think he's lying. She wears a red smock. With her silvery hair she looks good in red. Not many do. Seldom wears it himself He prefers pale blues, greens. And black. He favors black. Put him in a black suit, starched pink shirt, and stand back.

“Can I help you, sir?” She wants him to see the cell phone in her hand.

He's been back here too long. She's uneasy; two convenience store holdups in this area in the last three weeks. He should put her mind at ease, tell her there's too many people in here. Plus the pharmacist up there, peering down from his catwalk. Convenience stores are easier,