The air hung heavy. It smelled of exhaust and hot dust and burned in the lungs. Katie sat on a wooden bench in a dark little park across from the building that used to be her home.
She stared at the lit windows on the seventh floor and shook without stopping. Lily, worn out from crying and the heat, finally fell asleep in her arms, breathing in short uneven pulls. One thought pounded in Katie’s head and crowded out all reason: Daniel’s threat.
My daughter, raised to believe people meant what they said, was convinced his connections were real. She pictured me, an older man, being hauled off to jail on a false charge. For my sake, she was willing to endure anything. She held Lily tighter and tried to keep her warm through the night.
By morning the city had fully woken under the first hard rays of the sun. By ten o’clock the temperature had already climbed past 90. Katie looked around and started walking away from the neighborhood.
She had no plan. No destination. Just the instinct to keep moving and somehow keep her child alive. By noon Lily woke up thirsty and hungry.
The little girl began to whimper and tug weakly at the collar of Katie’s faded dress. Katie checked her pockets—nothing, not even a dollar. She stepped into the cool blast of a grocery store entrance.
Standing in front of the baby food shelf, she realized the cheapest jar of puree cost more than she had ever thought about before. A bottle of water might as well have been a luxury item. At that moment, even a few dollars was out of reach.
She caught sight of herself in the mirrored freezer door: tangled hair, hollow eyes, a face gone pale and strange. A store security guard was already watching her with suspicion. Katie lowered her head and slipped back out into the heat.
For the first two days they survived on water from public fountains. They slept in a neglected gazebo in an old park on the edge of town. Katie spread the remaining diapers under Lily so the baby wouldn’t lie directly on the dirty boards.
She herself did not sleep. She sat upright, listening to every sound, flinching at shadows and footsteps. On the third day Lily stopped crying.
She just lay in her mother’s arms, staring blankly with inflamed little eyes. Her lips were cracked from dehydration. That was when something in Katie gave way. The last pieces of pride, upbringing, and shame collapsed.
She walked to a major intersection on the avenue. The sun was straight overhead, the asphalt soft underfoot, the temperature pushing past 95. Cars sat in a long humming line at the light.
Katie took off her torn slippers because they were harder to walk in than bare feet and stepped into the lane between cars. The pavement burned her skin at once, but she barely seemed to notice. She went up to the first car, a black luxury sedan, and tapped on the tinted window.
The window lowered an inch, letting out a breath of cold air, and a man’s irritated voice said, “Get a job.” Then the glass went back up. Katie swallowed hard, hugged Lily closer, and moved to the next car.
“Please,” she said, her voice breaking into a rasp. “My baby needs water. Anything helps.”
She held out a trembling hand toward an older sedan driven by a woman. The woman looked at Katie’s exhausted face, then at the limp baby in her arms. Without a word, she pulled a crumpled bill from her wallet and pressed it into Katie’s hand….
