Breaking the Bank by Yona Zeldis McDonough Read Free Book Online Page B

spawn guys hawking cheap, folding versions with spokes that turned inside out in the slightest wind. The insistent cries of the vendors—UM-brella, UM-brella—were one of those distinctive New York melodies.
    Looking around for one such vendor now, Mia saw instead a small black woman wearing a green plastic trash bag over her clothes. She was sitting with her back against a building, her legs tucked under her like a cat. A cardboard box sat in front of her.
    As Mia and Eden approached, Mia could see that the woman had actually done a decent job of adapting the bag into a garment; there were holes cut for her arms, and she tied a sash of some kind around her waist. The cardboard box with its neatly lettered message— PLEASE HELP —held a few coins and a single crumpled dollar bill.
    When she and Eden reached the woman, the sky suddenly opened and it began to pour. Quickly, the woman grabbed the box and scooted it underneath her, using the bottom of the bag as a kind of tent. Then she pulled the neckline of the bag up and over the back of her head. All this was done in mere seconds, as if she had done it many times before. Watching, Mia felt as if she were coming apart, a stuffed toy with sawdust leaking in a slow, snail-like trail behind her. She quickly ushered Eden under an awning, where they stood, shaking off the rain.
    â€œMy Barneys bag is wet,” said Eden, rubbing the drops away with her forearm; again, the charm bracelet jingled.
    â€œIt should be okay until we get home.”

    â€œI wanted to keep it. I’m collecting shopping bags.”
    â€œYou are?” This was news to Mia.
    â€œWell, I’m starting today. This is going to be the first one. And now it’s ruined.”
    â€œNot ruined,” said Mia. “We’ll leave it out to dry when we get home, and I’ll press it flat under some books. It will be fine.” All the while Mia was mouthing this soothing parental patois, she was watching the woman wearing the garbage bag. She huddled under it, managing to keep reasonably dry. It would have been easy enough for her to get up and try to find shelter elsewhere. Or maybe not. Maybe her feet hurt or she knew that there was a good chance she’d be asked to move. She didn’t look unhappy though. She looked resigned, adjusting the bag more securely over her head, wiping water from her cheek.
    Mia thought of the last few hours: wandering through Barneys, ogling, fondling, getting, spending. Then the stop at the jewelry store. More ogling. More spending. Around her neck Mia now wore a golden locket; in her bag was the card that Gerald Mofchum had given her.
Buy and Sell.
But there were other transactions, weren’t there? What about
Give and Receive
? She flashed onto the bills, bills that were not technically hers yet had somehow found their way into her hands and her wallet.
    â€œStay right here,” she instructed Eden.
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œOver there.” She pointed to where the woman in the bag sat.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI have to do something.”
    â€œTell me,” Eden said, a familiar whine creeping into her voice.
    â€œI’ll tell you everything in just a minute, sweetie,” Mia said patiently, now quite sure of what she had to do.
    She stepped from the awning into the rain, which had tapered off a bit, and toward the woman. She thought of Mr. Ortiz and his dog, the guy on the street with his coffee cup. The shame of that exchangewas breathing in her ear now, propelling her forward. Wanting to help someone wasn’t enough. You either helped. Or you failed.
    The woman looked up. Her eyes were large and brown; the lid of one of them drooped a little, making it seem as if she were winking, a slow, private gesture.
    â€œHere,” said Mia. In her hand were three twenties. “These are for you.”

THREE
    M IA WAS ROUSED the following morning by the bleating of her cell phone. She groped around the