The first thing I noticed was that my couch was in the wrong place.
\nThe second thing I noticed was my kitchen.
\nI dropped my keys.
\n\u201cNolan, stay behind me.\u201d
\nMy son immediately grabbed the back of my coat.
\nThe little apartment I had left before sunrise looked as though someone had taken it apart and carefully put half of it back together.
\nThe dining chairs were stacked near the window.
\nThe kitchen table had been pushed into the living room.
\nEvery cabinet beneath the sink had been emptied.
\nCleaning supplies, old grocery bags, dish towels, and the plastic container where I kept spare batteries were lined neatly across the floor.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
And Wesley was kneeling in front of a hole in my kitchen wall.
\nA large hole.
\nMy stomach dropped.
\n\u201cWhat did you do?\u201d
\nWesley turned.
\nHe was still wearing my brother\u2019s old sweatshirt, but his sleeves were rolled above his elbows.
\nThere was dust on his face.
\nA screwdriver rested beside him.
\nAnd behind him, part of the drywall beneath the sink had been removed.
\nI stared at it.
\nThen at him.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Then back at the wall.
\n\u201cYou tore my apartment apart?\u201d
\n\u201cMom,\u201d Nolan whispered.
\n\u201cGo to your room.\u201d
\n\u201cBut\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cNow.\u201d
\nWesley raised both hands.
\n\u201cLet him stay.\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\nThat was the wrong thing to say.
\n\u201cThis is my home.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were supposed to leave this morning.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cYou had absolutely no right to\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cAudrey.\u201d
\nSomething in his voice stopped me.
\nNot anger.
\nFear.
\nHe pointed into the wall.
\n\u201cLook.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t care what\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I stepped closer.
\nAt first I saw pipes.
\nOld wood.
\nInsulation.
\nThen I saw the black patches.
\nThey crawled across the inside of the wall like burned fingerprints.
\nSome areas were dark green.
\nOthers were nearly black.
\nThe wood beneath them looked swollen.
\nWet.
\nRotting.
\nI stopped breathing for a second.
\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d
\nWesley looked at Nolan.
\nThen back at me.
\n\u201cMold.\u201d
\nThe word seemed too small for what I was looking at.
\nI shook my head.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cNo, there can\u2019t be. I clean constantly.\u201d
\n\u201cIt\u2019s inside the wall. You wouldn\u2019t have seen it.\u201d
\nI crouched despite my aching knees.
\nA sour, damp smell reached me.
\nA smell I recognized.
\nI had smelled it before.
\nFor months.
\nEvery time I opened the cabinet under the sink.
\nI had blamed old plumbing.
\n\u201cHow bad?\u201d
\nWesley didn\u2019t answer immediately.
\nAnd that frightened me more than anything.
\n\u201cHow bad, Wesley?\u201d
\n\u201cBad enough that Nolan shouldn\u2019t be sleeping here tonight.\u201d
\nI felt my son\u2019s hand slide into mine.
\nHe hadn\u2019t gone to his room.
\nOf course he hadn\u2019t.
\n\u201cNolan.\u201d
\n\u201cMom, am I sick?\u201d
\nMy heart twisted.
\n\u201cNo, honey.\u201d
\nWesley stood carefully, favoring his injured leg.
\n\u201cI\u2019m not saying he\u2019s sick. I\u2019m saying this needs to be looked at properly.\u201d
\nI stared at the wall.
\nSuddenly every small thing from the past year began connecting inside my head.
\nNolan\u2019s cough that disappeared whenever he spent weekends with my sister.
\nThe headaches I kept blaming on double shifts.
\nThe strange smell in the kitchen.
\nThe paint bubbling near the baseboard.
\nThe landlord telling me old buildings were \u201cjust like that.\u201d
\nI stood.
\n\u201cWhat happened?\u201d
\nWesley leaned against the counter.
\n\u201cThe faucet was worse this morning. I tried tightening it.\u201d
\n\u201cYou tried fixing it?\u201d
\n\u201cI used to do building maintenance.\u201d
\nThat surprised me.
\nHe nodded toward the front door.
\n\u201cI fixed the latch too. Nothing major. Just adjusted the strike plate.\u201d
\nI looked toward the entrance.
\nWithout thinking, I walked over and closed the door.
\nIt clicked smoothly.
\nNo shoulder.
\nNo shove.
\nNo lifting the handle while pushing with my hip.
\nIt simply closed.
\nI stared at it.
\n\u201cFor eight months,\u201d I whispered.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019ve been asking my landlord to fix that for eight months.\u201d
\nWesley said nothing.
\nI walked back to the kitchen.
\n\u201cAnd the faucet?\u201d
\n\u201cWasher was shot. Supply connection was leaking too.\u201d
\n\u201cYou replaced it?\u201d
\n\u201cNeighbor downstairs had a box of spare plumbing parts.\u201d
\nThat explained the elderly Mr. Campbell\u2019s habit of keeping everything he had ever owned since 1973.
\n\u201cThe bread?\u201d Nolan asked.
\nWesley smiled slightly.
\n\u201cMr. Campbell\u2019s wife.\u201d
\nI looked toward the counter.
\nA loaf of homemade bread sat wrapped in a towel.
\n\u201cShe came upstairs when she heard me working,\u201d Wesley explained. \u201cShe gave me that.\u201d
\nNolan looked delighted.
\nI was not ready to be delighted.
\nI pointed at the missing section of wall.
\n\u201cHow did fixing a faucet turn into this?\u201d
\nWesley\u2019s expression changed.
\n\u201cWhen I reached under the sink, the back panel moved.\u201d
\n\u201cMoved?\u201d
\n\u201cIt was soft.\u201d
\nHe bent and picked up a piece of thin wood.
\nHe pressed his thumb against it.
\nThe wood crumbled.
\nMy stomach turned.
\n\u201cSo I looked behind it.\u201d
\n\u201cYou ripped open my wall.\u201d
\n\u201cI removed damaged drywall.\u201d
\n\u201cWithout asking me.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\nHis answer was so direct that it took some of the fight out of me.
\n\u201cI shouldn\u2019t have done it without permission.\u201d
\n\u201cNo, you shouldn\u2019t have.\u201d
\n\u201cBut if I hadn\u2019t, you might have kept living with this for another year.\u201d
\nI hated that he was right.
\nI hated it because I was already imagining the conversation with my landlord.
\nI was already imagining him blaming me.
\nI was already seeing charges added to my rent.
\nMy security deposit disappearing.
\nAn eviction notice.
\nI was three weeks behind.
\nPeople who were three weeks behind on rent did not start fights with landlords.
\nThey apologized.
\nThey avoided eye contact.
\nThey prayed nobody noticed them.
\nI folded my arms.
\n\u201cYou need to go.\u201d
\nNolan looked up at me.
\n\u201cMom.\u201d
\n\u201cNot now.\u201d
\nWesley nodded.
\n\u201cI understand.\u201d
\nFor some reason, his agreement made me feel worse.
\nHe moved toward the couch and reached for his backpack.
\nThen he stopped.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s something else.\u201d
\nI almost laughed.
\nOf course there was.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cI called your landlord.\u201d
\nMy entire body went cold.
\n\u201cYou did what?\u201d
\n\u201cI called the number posted downstairs.\u201d
\n\u201cYou called him?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhy?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause this isn\u2019t a dripping faucet, Audrey.\u201d
\n\u201cYou had no right!\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t know my situation.\u201d
\n\u201cI know enough.\u201d
\n\u201cNo, you don\u2019t!\u201d
\nMy voice rose.
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t know that I\u2019m behind on rent. You don\u2019t know that I have nowhere else to go. You don\u2019t know what happens if that man decides I\u2019m a difficult tenant and suddenly remembers every late payment I\u2019ve ever made.\u201d
\nNolan stared at me.
\nI instantly regretted saying it in front of him.
\nWesley\u2019s face softened.
\nBut I didn\u2019t want sympathy.
\nI wanted control.
\nAnd somewhere between six that morning and five that evening, a stranger had taken control of my apartment.
\nOr at least that was how it felt.
\n\u201cI told you one night,\u201d I said quietly.
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cOne shower. One meal. One couch.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t invite you to fix my life.\u201d
\nThat sentence landed harder than I intended.
\nWesley looked down.
\nFor the first time since I met him, he seemed embarrassed.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re right.\u201d
\nHe picked up his backpack.
\nNolan stepped forward.
\n\u201cDon\u2019t go.\u201d
\n\u201cNolan.\u201d
\n\u201cBut he helped us.\u201d
\n\u201cHe also crossed a line.\u201d
\nWesley crouched carefully until he was closer to my son\u2019s height.
\n\u201cYour mom\u2019s right.\u201d
\nNolan\u2019s eyes filled.
\n\u201cYou said you didn\u2019t have anywhere to go.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019ll figure something out.\u201d
\n\u201cBut your leg\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019ll be okay.\u201d
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t know that.\u201d
\nThe words came out with such fierce certainty that Wesley smiled.
\n\u201cNeither do you.\u201d
\n\u201cYes, I do.\u201d
\n\u201cHow?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause you fixed our door.\u201d
\nWesley blinked.
\nNolan pointed toward the entrance.
\n\u201cPeople who fix doors don\u2019t disappear.\u201d
\nThe room became very quiet.
\nI turned away because something inside my chest hurt.
\nChildren have a way of saying things adults spend years learning how not to say.
\nWesley stood.
\n\u201cI should leave.\u201d
\nHe zipped his backpack.
\nThen he reached into the front pocket and removed a folded sheet of paper.
\nHe placed it on the kitchen table.
\n\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d
\n\u201cPictures and notes.\u201d
\nI frowned.
\n\u201cI used your printer.\u201d
\n\u201cYou used my printer too?\u201d
\n\u201cFour pages.\u201d
\nDespite everything, I nearly laughed.
\nInstead I picked them up.
\nThere were photographs of the mold.
\nClose-ups of warped wood.
\nThe leaking pipe.
\nThe bubbled paint.
\nDates and times written beside each photo.
\nAt the bottom was a list.
\nKitchen sink leak.
\nMoisture damage.
\nProbable long-term mold growth.
\nCompromised drywall.
\nPossible subfloor damage.
\nI looked at Wesley.
\n\u201cWhy did you do this?\u201d
\n\u201cBecause your landlord is going to say it wasn\u2019t there.\u201d
\nA chill ran through me.
\n\u201cHow do you know?\u201d
\nWesley gave me a tired smile.
\n\u201cBecause landlords like yours always say it wasn\u2019t there.\u201d
\nThere was something in the way he said it.
\nExperience.
\nNot guesswork.
\nBefore I could ask, someone pounded on my door.
\nThree hard knocks.
\nThen a voice.
\n\u201cAudrey!\u201d
\nMy stomach dropped.
\nMr. Barlow.
\nMy landlord.
\nWesley looked at me.
\nI looked at him.
\nNolan whispered, \u201cIs that the landlord?\u201d
\nAnother pounding.
\n\u201cAudrey, open this door!\u201d
\nI shoved the papers against Wesley\u2019s chest.
\n\u201cYou need to go into Nolan\u2019s room.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cIf he sees you\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m not hiding.\u201d
\n\u201cPlease.\u201d
\nThat word changed his expression.
\nHe took the papers.
\nBut instead of moving toward the bedroom, he stayed beside the kitchen.
\nI opened the door.
\nMr. Barlow pushed past me before I could invite him inside.
\nHe was a thick-necked man in his late fifties who wore expensive shoes and always smelled faintly of cigar smoke.
\nHis eyes immediately landed on Wesley.
\nThen the kitchen.
\nThen the hole.
\nHis face changed.
\n\u201cWhat the hell happened here?\u201d
\nI opened my mouth.
\nWesley spoke first.
\n\u201cThere\u2019s a long-term leak behind the kitchen cabinet.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow looked at him.
\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d
\n\u201cWesley.\u201d
\n\u201cAre you a tenant?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cThen get out of my building.\u201d
\n\u201cMr. Barlow\u2014\u201d
\nHe spun toward me.
\n\u201cYou let some homeless guy tear open my property?\u201d
\nMy face burned.
\n\u201cHow do you know he\u2019s homeless?\u201d
\nMr. Barlow hesitated.
\nOnly for a second.
\nBut Wesley noticed too.
\n\u201cYou saw me outside this morning,\u201d Wesley said.
\nMr. Barlow ignored him.
\nHe marched toward the wall and looked inside.
\nAnd something happened that I will never forget.
\nHe didn\u2019t look surprised.
\nNot even slightly.
\nHe looked angry.
\nThere is a difference.
\nSurprise widens a person\u2019s eyes.
\nAnger narrows them.
\nMr. Barlow\u2019s eyes narrowed.
\n\u201cWho told you to open this?\u201d
\n\u201cNo one,\u201d Wesley said.
\n\u201cYou damaged my property.\u201d
\n\u201cThe wall was already rotting.\u201d
\n\u201cYou touched something that belongs to me.\u201d
\nWesley\u2019s voice remained calm.
\n\u201cDid you know about the leak?\u201d
\nMr. Barlow laughed once.
\nA sharp, humorless sound.
\n\u201cGet out.\u201d
\n\u201cDid you know?\u201d
\n\u201cI said get out.\u201d
\nI stepped between them.
\n\u201cMr. Barlow, I\u2019ve reported that sink more than once.\u201d
\n\u201cYou reported a dripping faucet.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd the smell.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat smell?\u201d
\n\u201cThe damp smell.\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t remember that.\u201d
\n\u201cI do.\u201d
\nHe looked at me.
\nThere it was.
\nThe look I had spent three years trying to avoid.
\nThe look landlords gave tenants who didn\u2019t have enough money to be inconvenient.
\nHe pulled out his phone.
\n\u201cYou are currently twenty-three days late on rent.\u201d
\nNolan looked at me.
\nI wished the floor would swallow me.
\n\u201cI told you I\u2019d have it after my next paycheck.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd I was willing to work with you.\u201d
\nHe glanced dramatically at the wall.
\n\u201cBut now you\u2019ve caused thousands of dollars in damage.\u201d
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t cause that.\u201d
\n\u201cYour guest did.\u201d
\n\u201cThe mold was already there.\u201d
\n\u201cThat\u2019s your opinion.\u201d
\n\u201cIt\u2019s not an opinion,\u201d Wesley said.
\nMr. Barlow stepped closer to him.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re still here?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m calling the police.\u201d
\nWesley nodded.
\n\u201cGood.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow froze.
\nSo did I.
\nWesley reached into his backpack.
\nMr. Barlow stepped backward.
\nBut Wesley only pulled out his phone.
\n\u201cCall them.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d I whispered.
\nWesley held up the phone.
\n\u201cI photographed everything before I removed the drywall.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow stared at him.
\n\u201cAnd I recorded moisture readings.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat moisture readings?\u201d
\nWesley reached into his backpack again and removed a small yellow device.
\nI had no idea what it was.
\nMr. Barlow apparently did.
\nHis face changed.
\nWesley continued.
\n\u201cTwenty-eight percent in the stud beside the supply line. Thirty-one near the baseboard. The cabinet backing was saturated.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow\u2019s jaw tightened.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re trespassing.\u201d
\n\u201cI was invited inside.\u201d
\n\u201cNot by me.\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019re not living here.\u201d
\n\u201cThis is my property.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd this is Audrey\u2019s home.\u201d
\nI stared at Wesley.
\nMr. Barlow\u2019s face reddened.
\nThen he said something that made the entire room go silent.
\n\u201cYou think you know buildings because you used to swing a hammer?\u201d
\nWesley stopped moving.
\nI looked from one man to the other.
\nUsed to.
\nNot \u201cdo.\u201d
\nNot \u201cwork in construction.\u201d
\nUsed to.
\nWesley\u2019s voice became very quiet.
\n\u201cHave we met?\u201d
\nMr. Barlow realized his mistake.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know you.\u201d
\n\u201cYou just said \u2018used to.\u2019\u201d
\n\u201cI can see your leg.\u201d
\nWesley stared at him.
\nMr. Barlow looked away.
\nAnd suddenly, the air in my apartment felt different.
\nHe knew Wesley.
\nOr he knew something about him.
\nNolan moved closer to me.
\nWesley slowly lowered his phone.
\n\u201cBarlow.\u201d
\nHe said the name as though tasting it.
\nThen his eyes lifted.
\n\u201cThomas Barlow?\u201d
\nMy landlord said nothing.
\nWesley\u2019s face drained of color.
\n\u201cOh my God.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d I asked.
\nNeither man answered.
\nWesley took one step forward.
\nHis injured leg nearly buckled.
\nHe grabbed the counter.
\n\u201cWesley?\u201d
\nHe ignored me.
\n\u201cYou owned Barlow Property Renovations.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow\u2019s face hardened.
\n\u201cThat company closed.\u201d
\n\u201cAfter the River Street accident.\u201d
\nI looked at Wesley\u2019s brace.
\nThen at my landlord.
\nThen back again.
\nMr. Barlow pointed toward the door.
\n\u201cGet out.\u201d
\nWesley laughed.
\nBut there was no humor in it.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s why you recognized me.\u201d
\n\u201cI said get out.\u201d
\n\u201cYou were there.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow\u2019s eyes flickered.
\nJust once.
\nIt was enough.
\nWesley\u2019s hand began trembling.
\n\u201cWhat happened on River Street?\u201d I asked.
\nNo one answered me.
\n\u201cWesley.\u201d
\nHe looked down at his leg.
\nWhen he spoke, his voice sounded different.
\nFar away.
\n\u201cI told you I got hurt at work.\u201d
\nI nodded.
\n\u201cWhat I didn\u2019t tell you was that three men were hurt with me.\u201d
\nNolan squeezed my hand.
\nWesley looked at Mr. Barlow.
\n\u201cOne of them never walked again.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow headed toward the door.
\n\u201cAnd one died.\u201d
\nHe stopped.
\nI felt the blood drain from my face.
\nWesley continued.
\n\u201cThe scaffolding collapsed because somebody kept using damaged equipment after workers reported it.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow turned.
\n\u201cYou have no idea what you\u2019re talking about.\u201d
\n\u201cI was standing on it.\u201d
\n\u201cThere was an investigation.\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd the company was cleared.\u201d
\n\u201cBecause the inspection records disappeared.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow took two steps toward Wesley.
\n\u201cBe very careful.\u201d
\nThose three words frightened me more than all his yelling.
\nWesley didn\u2019t move.
\n\u201cI spent eleven months learning how to walk without a cane.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow lowered his voice.
\n\u201cAnd apparently you learned nothing about minding your own business.\u201d
\nI stepped in front of Wesley.
\n\u201cThat\u2019s enough.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow looked at me as if he had forgotten I existed.
\nI pointed toward my door.
\n\u201cLeave.\u201d
\nHis eyebrows rose.
\n\u201cThis is my building.\u201d
\n\u201cThis is my apartment.\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019re behind on rent.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd I said I would pay.\u201d
\n\u201cNot anymore.\u201d
\nMy heart thudded.
\n\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d
\n\u201cIt means I want you out.\u201d
\nNolan gasped.
\nMr. Barlow looked directly at me.
\n\u201cSeven days.\u201d
\n\u201cYou can\u2019t do that.\u201d
\n\u201cWatch me.\u201d
\nHe started toward the door.
\nThen Wesley said, \u201cYou might want to make it thirty.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow slowly turned.
\nWesley was looking at his phone.
\n\u201cWhat did you say?\u201d
\n\u201cThirty days would look slightly less suspicious.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow\u2019s eyes narrowed.
\n\u201cSuspicious to whom?\u201d
\nWesley tapped the screen.
\n\u201cMy attorney.\u201d
\nMr. Barlow laughed.
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t have an attorney.\u201d
\n\u201cYou sure?\u201d
\nFor the first time, Wesley looked completely different.
\nNot homeless.
\nNot helpless.
\nNot like the shivering man sitting outside a grocery store.
\nHe looked like someone who had been waiting a very long time for a particular door to open.
\nMr. Barlow stared at him.
\nThen at the exposed mold.
\nThen at me.
\nHe left without another word.
\nThe door clicked shut behind him.
\nPerfectly.
\nBecause Wesley had fixed it.
\nFor several seconds, nobody moved.
\nThen I turned.
\n\u201cAttorney?\u201d
\nWesley slowly sat down.
\nHis hands were shaking.
\n\u201cI haven\u2019t spoken to her in almost a year.\u201d
\n\u201cWho?\u201d
\n\u201cThe lawyer who handled my workers\u2019 compensation case.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\n\u201cYou knew my landlord?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cBut he knew you.\u201d
\n\u201cI think he recognized me after he saw the brace.\u201d
\nNolan sat beside him.
\n\u201cWhy were you homeless?\u201d
\nI almost corrected my son.
\nWesley answered anyway.
\n\u201cBecause getting hurt costs more than people think.\u201d
\nHe looked at me.
\n\u201cI couldn\u2019t work. Insurance fought everything. I burned through my savings. My wife left. Then I missed payments on our apartment.\u201d
\nHis voice caught slightly.
\n\u201cI kept thinking I\u2019d get back on my feet.\u201d
\nHe looked down at the brace.
\n\u201cTurns out that expression is a lot funnier when one of your feet barely works.\u201d
\nNobody laughed.
\nI sat across from him.
\n\u201cWhy didn\u2019t you tell us?\u201d
\n\u201cWould you have brought me home if I gave you my whole sad biography outside the grocery store?\u201d
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cExactly.\u201d
\nI looked toward the kitchen wall.
\n\u201cWhat happens now?\u201d
\nWesley exhaled.
\n\u201cTonight? You and Nolan should sleep somewhere else.\u201d
\n\u201cMy sister lives forty minutes away.\u201d
\n\u201cGo there.\u201d
\n\u201cAnd you?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019ll go.\u201d
\nI shook my head.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\nHe looked surprised.
\n\u201cYou were right,\u201d I said.
\n\u201cAbout what?\u201d
\n\u201cYou crossed a line.\u201d
\nHis expression fell.
\n\u201cBut so did I.\u201d
\n\u201cHow?\u201d
\n\u201cI invited you into my home because my son felt sorry for you.\u201d
\nNolan frowned.
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t feel sorry for him.\u201d
\nI looked at him.
\n\u201cWhat did you feel?\u201d
\nNolan shrugged.
\n\u201cHe was cold.\u201d
\nIt was such a simple answer.
\nNo judgment.
\nNo hierarchy.
\nNo idea that kindness required someone to be beneath you.
\nHe was cold.
\nThat was enough.
\nWesley looked away.
\nI stood.
\n\u201cYou\u2019re coming with us.\u201d
\n\u201cAudrey\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cMy sister has a basement sofa.\u201d
\n\u201cYou don\u2019t owe me anything.\u201d
\n\u201cI know.\u201d
\n\u201cThen why?\u201d
\nI looked at the exposed wall.
\n\u201cBecause apparently you just got us evicted.\u201d
\nHis eyes widened.
\nThen I smiled.
\n\u201cAnd I\u2019m not letting you disappear before you help me figure out what to do about it.\u201d
\nFor the first time since Mr. Barlow arrived, Wesley laughed.
\nWe packed quickly.
\nTwo changes of clothes for Nolan.
\nMy work uniform.
\nMedicine.
\nSchool backpack.
\nImportant papers.
\nThe photographs Wesley had taken.
\nBefore leaving, he returned to the kitchen and stared into the wall.
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\nHe crouched.
\nThen reached inside.
\n\u201cWesley?\u201d
\nHis fingers closed around something wedged behind the damaged insulation.
\nHe pulled it free.
\nA plastic folder.
\nDirty.
\nWater-stained.
\nWrapped in an old grocery bag.
\n\u201cWhat is that?\u201d I asked.
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nHe opened it.
\nInside were several folded papers.
\nOld repair invoices.
\nInspection forms.
\nMaintenance reports.
\nWesley went still.
\nCompletely still.
\nI watched his eyes move across the first page.
\n\u201cWhat does it say?\u201d
\nHe didn\u2019t answer.
\n\u201cWesley?\u201d
\nHe turned the paper around.
\nAt the top was the logo of Barlow Property Renovations.
\nMy stomach tightened.
\nThe date was six years old.
\nWesley grabbed another page.
\nThen another.
\nHis breathing changed.
\n\u201cNo.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cNo, no, no.\u201d
\nHe dropped to the floor and spread the documents out.
\nNolan came closer.
\nI pulled him back.
\nWesley picked up one page.
\nHis hand shook so violently that the paper rattled.
\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d
\nHe looked up at me.
\nI had never seen a grown man look that frightened.
\n\u201cThis isn\u2019t about your apartment.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat are you talking about?\u201d
\nHe pointed at the document.
\n\u201cThis is an equipment inspection report from River Street.\u201d
\nMy skin prickled.
\n\u201cThe accident?\u201d
\n\u201cYes.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat is it doing inside my wall?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d
\nHe scanned the page.
\nThen stopped.
\nHis face went white.
\n\u201cAudrey.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cThe investigation said these reports were lost.\u201d
\nI stared at him.
\nHe swallowed.
\n\u201cThey weren\u2019t lost.\u201d
\nOutside, footsteps sounded in the hallway.
\nFast.
\nHeavy.
\nComing toward our door.
\nWesley gathered the papers.
\n\u201cTurn off the lights.\u201d
\n\u201cWhat?\u201d
\n\u201cNow.\u201d
\nNolan looked terrified.
\n\u201cMom?\u201d
\nThe footsteps stopped directly outside our apartment.
\nSomeone tried the doorknob.
\nOnce.
\nTwice.
\nThen a key slid into the lock.
\nWesley looked at me.
\nAnd whispered the six words that made my blood turn cold.
\n\u201cBarlow came back for those papers.\u201d\u2026\u2026\u2026.<\/p>\n