Nora is crippled by anxiety that lurks beneath a Good Girl shell. Lucas is drowning under the weight of his rage and depression. They've been best friends since they were babies living on the same suburban street and have never needed anything but e...
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"The drops of rain make a hole in the stone, not by violence, but by oft falling." -Lucretius
"Whatcha doin'?" Gus asked Ida one sunny morning.
He had just eaten breakfast at the mission and was headed out to panhandle when he saw that Ida had taken everything out of her tent. She was surrounded by four wooden pallets, the kind that stores used to stack boxes of unpacked produce.
"It's supposed to rain today. You wanna help me get this tent on these?" she asked breathlessly. She stood up and put her hands on her hips, her wrinkled face shiny with sweat.
"Rain? Today?" Gus asked skeptically, looking up.
It hardly ever rained in L.A., and there wasn't a cloud in the sky this bright morning. Only the usual yellowish haze of pollution hung low over downtown like a sweat stain.
"The news people said it was comin' tonight. It'll be a gully washer, they said. I ain't losin' any of my shit. You gonna help me or not?" Ida asked.
Gus lifted each corner of the tent as Ida shoved a pallet under it. When they finished, the tent was sitting elevated on a perfect square.
"You should do the same," Ida said, checking the sides for rips and holes. "Your tent'll flood with shit and piss water and all your stuff'll be ruined. I learned that lesson the hard way."
"Where do I get those things?" Gus asked, pointing at the pallets.
"Alleys and dumpsters behind grocery stores are best. Get you a shopping cart and load 'em up before everybody else gets wise," Ida said.
"How long do I have?" Gus asked.
"Probably a few hours before people start talkin' and figurin' out it's gonna rain. Soon these pallets'll be worth more than four ounces of China White, so you need to get a move on now."
Gus spent the rest of that morning searching alleyways for pallets. A few were rotted through or broken, so he had to go to several different places. It took him until afternoon to load up four on an abandoned shopping cart and then another four when he remembered Strawberry's tent. Some of the pallets slid easily under the cart. The others were precariously perched on the top of the basket, too big to put inside. Gus pulled the cart behind him slowly to keep them from sliding off.
By the time he made it back to Skid Row, it was late afternoon and the sky was darkening. Strawberry was on her hands and knees frantically throwing clothing and shoes out of her tent.
"Hey," he said.
She looked up, her facial expression anxious and fearful.
"Got you some pallets," Gus said.
Strawberry's worried frown broke into a smile. "Aw, you such a sweetheart! I was fixin' to pack everythin' up and head fo the shelter. You know what dat means. Back to foster care pro'lly."
