Page 14

Mr. Buford was one of the few people who had lived here since the neighborhood was built. He bought his home for a meager $25,000 and had lived in it ever since. He’d always been kind to me, and in return, I worked on the things that he didn’t need to worry about. As a man in his eighties, the last thing he needed to be doing was getting on his hands and knees. I was halfway through pulling them up when his front door opened.
“Amy, is that you?” he asked in his shaky voice. His cane hit the ground as he walked to the edge of the porch. “What are you doing out here in the middle of the day?”
“Enjoying the sunlight,” I replied, leaning back on my heels. “It’s keeping me warm.”
That, and the rage I felt.
Mr. Buford’s wrinkled face formed a frown. “You’re never out at this hour.”
“You know me. I have to change it up a bit. I was getting bored doing the same thing every day.”
I refused to burden him with my problems. One time, when a pipe burst under my house, he offered to pay for it.Him.He had countless doctor’s appointments and medical bills. He was only on Medicare, which didn’t pay for everything. And most older adults, he had a limited, fixed income.
“Is something wrong with the house?”
“The house is great,” I replied. “Nothing’s wrong.”
“Are you sure?” He raised one eyebrow.
“How isyourhouse?” I asked back. “Everything good?”
“I know what you’re doing. You’re putting the attention on me.”
“Yep. You can’t leave me hanging now.”
“My house is good as always. She’s sturdy.”
“And so is mine.”
“Let me get you some coffee, at least. That’ll make me feel better.”
He ambled inside, and I had half a mind to tell him not to worry about it, but he clung to his independence, always making me coffee himself even though I had some at home. If I was lucky enough to reach his age, I wouldn’t want people doing everything for me either.
I pulled out more weeds, banishing all thoughts of Calvin from my mind. I was determined to give my full attention to the kind man next door. The second I tried that, however, it hit me that I might not be his neighbor for much longer. If I couldn’t figure out how to get money, I was going to lose the house—the very thing I’d worked so hard for.
Mr. Buford came out minutes later with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. In the chilly, late-winter air, it was exactly what I needed. I stood and climbed onto the porch. “Thank you,” I said.
“I even put in cream and sugar, though I don’t know how you can ruin perfectly good coffee with that stuff.”
“Not everyone can tolerate bitterness like you can.” I took a sip of the delicious liquid. Mr. Buford never put in enough for my taste, but it was still good on such a cold day. My cheeks were ice, and I’d regret my last-second choice when I finally retreated home.
“How are you, Amy?” he asked slowly. “I know there’s something on your mind.”
“Just life,” I said. “I think things will be changing.”
“They always do, even when we don’t want them to.”
I sighed and took a long drink. “This isn’t going to be a good change.”
“Do you need help?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think this is a thing you can help with. This is a consequence of my own actions. I’ll deal with it.”
“I can’t imagine you doing something so bad that you’d get into trouble.”
“I find ways.”Like forging a will.
The caffeine was starting to hit my system and I knew my priority needed to be finding a job. “I should go,” I said. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer but?—”