Part 3:
Ma’am. She looked up. She had gray eyes. They were very tired. Yes? You all right? I’m fine. Thank you. That bus doesn’t run anymore. She blinked. I’m sorry? The bus, this stop. They cut the route a few years back. Whatever you’re waiting for, it isn’t coming. She looked down the street then back at him. She had the face of a person who had been holding something together for a while and was starting to notice the seams.
“I wasn’t waiting for a bus,” she said. “I was waiting for an Uber. It canceled twice.” “Out here, you’ll be waiting a while. Not a lot of drivers in this part of town this early.” “I’m figuring that out.” “Where are you trying to go?” She hesitated. It was a small hesitation, but Ryan caught it. “Burlington,” she said eventually.
“Eventually is a funny word for a Tuesday morning.” She almost smiled. It didn’t quite make it to her mouth, but it made it to her eyes. “My car broke down last night,” she said. “On the interstate. I got a tow as far as the next exit and walked the rest of the way into town and every motel said they were full and I ended up here. Just to sit.
I’m not usually like this. I’m usually quite organized.” “Everybody’s quite organized until they aren’t.” That did make her smile, barely. “You look cold,” Ryan said. “I am cold.” “There’s a diner on Main, three blocks that way. They open at 6:00. It’s warm. I can drop you off.” She looked at him.
She looked at his truck. She looked at his face. Ryan could see her weighing it. He didn’t blame her. He was a 32-year-old man in a dirty Carhartt jacket offering a woman alone at a bus stop a ride in a truck with a cracked windshield at 7:00 in the morning and he could see exactly how that looked from the outside. “I can call you a cab instead,” he said, “from my phone. I’ll pay for it.
That might be better.” She tilted her head. “Why would you do that?” “Do what?” “Pay for a cab for a stranger.” Ryan thought about it. “My wife used to say that the world runs on people doing small dumb things for each other,” he said. “I don’t know if she was right, but I figure I’m not going to find out by not doing them.
” The woman was quiet for a second. “Your wife sounds like a thoughtful person.” “She was.” She caught the tense. She didn’t say anything about it. Ryan appreciated that. “I’ll take the diner.” She said. “If you don’t mind.” “I don’t mind.” She stood up. She picked up her suitcase. It was heavier than it looked and she had to set it down again for a second before she lifted it up into the bed of the truck.
Ryan got out to help her. She waved him off. “I’ve got it. Thank you.” She climbed into the passenger seat. She smelled very faintly like expensive perfume that had been worn for too long without being refreshed. The truck cab felt smaller with another person in it. Ryan couldn’t remember the last time anyone besides Emma had sat in the passenger seat.
He pulled out onto the road. They drove in silence for about half a block. “What’s your name?” She said. “Ryan.” “Ryan Hale.” “I’m Celeste.” “Just Celeste?” “Just Celeste for now.” He glanced at her. She was looking out the window. “Okay.” He said. “Just Celeste.” They drove another block. “Can I ask you something, Ryan?” “Sure.
” “You look like a man who’s had a bad morning.” He laughed. It came out shorter and harder than he’d meant it to. “That obvious?” “Your knuckles are white on the wheel.” He looked down. They were. He made himself loosen his grip. “I got fired.” He said. “About 45 minutes ago.” “I’m sorry.” “Yeah.” “Can I ask why?” “They think I stole something I didn’t steal.
” She looked at him for a long moment. “Why didn’t you steal it?” She said. He glanced at her, surprised. “What?” “Why didn’t you steal it?” “If you had the chance and you look like a man who needs money, why didn’t you?” He thought about it. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to give her a real answer.
“Because my daughter’s seven.” He said. “And someday she’s going to do something hard and I want her to be able to do it because I did hard things first.” Celeste didn’t say anything. She looked out the window again. They pulled into the parking lot of the diner. The sign said Helen’s in red neon, missing the E.
So, it said H Lens in the morning dim. Ryan put the truck in park. Here you go. Thank you, Ryan. She opened the door, then she paused. “Would you think I was strange if I asked you for another favor?” I’m past being surprised today. My wallet was in the car, in the tow truck. I don’t have any cash, just cards, and the diner’s sign in the window says cash only before 9:00 a.m.
Would you? He was already reaching for his wallet. He opened it. He had two 20s and two ones, $42. It was the last $42 he had until unemployment kicked in, which would be at least 2 weeks and probably three. He took out the two 20s. He folded them once. He held them out to her. She stared at them. No. Ryan. I can’t take that. I meant like $10.
