Tourists of the Apocalypse by C. F. WALLER Read Free Book Online Page A

can’t stay over here forever.”
    “No, you can’t. Let’s wait and see what tomorrow brings.”
    …
    The next day brings a jet black sedan parked in front of the third house, two houses to the left of mine on the circular dead end. A man Graham refers to as Lance is living there with Izzy, the dark haired woman I met previously. Graham tells me it’s safe to go home and helps me get my mom upstairs and into bed. While I insist that Jarrod will be back, he assures me that this isn’t the case. I sit in my mother’s second floor window, eyes glued on the street. After a week, I relax as it does appear Jarrod is gone for good.
    Izzy comes by to check on my mother while I am in school and Graham takes me to the grocery store on Saturdays. I withdraw all the money from my savings and manage to pay the light and water bills when they come at the end of the month. The problem is Jarrod was paying for everything . A bank account once held by father and mother contains enough to cover the mortgage payment, but I have to close it and take the last cent to do so. This puts me on a thirty-day clock. As long as Graham keeps buying us groceries, and there is no verbal agreement for him to do this, I will have no money to pay when the bills come next. Time passes slowly over the next thirty days. I can’t focus at school with this hanging over my head. My teacher’s complaints fall on deaf ears. My mother is feeling better, but will be drinking through a straw for another month at least.
    My one bright spot is Saturdays when I get paid to wash Violet’s car. The first time this occurs after the bills I can’t pay arrive in the mail box, the Porsche isn’t in his driveway. I slump on the front steps grumbling to myself. What can go wrong next? Head in my hands, I sit on the steps and pout. Car washing doesn’t pay enough to keep the lights on, but it’s better than nothing. Sweat rolls down one forearm and I sit very still and watch it drop onto the wooden steps.
    Graham’s screen door creaks open and he wanders out to gather his paper. I don’t stand up and wave, but lean down and try to hide. I only wish I was invisible. He sees me and beckons me over. Curious about Violet’s whereabouts, I shuffle over to his driveway.
    “How’s Missy?” he asks, tapping his paper on his hand. “I mean your mom.”
    “Pretty good.”
    “You’re probably wondering about Violet.”
    “Well, I didn’t see the car,” I grumble, unable to snap out of my dismal mood.
    “Can’t say for sure when she will be back. Things are picking up over here,” he explains, waving the paper around at the houses on either side of his.
    I nod and daydream about what Graham will think when they evict us? He’s been so nice, but there has to be a point where the helping hand ends. He’s not a branch of Goodwill.
    “How long you in school for?”
    “Another week.”
    “Are you going to get a job this summer?”
    I nod, caught off guard by his question. Is it that obvious we’re destitute? He watches me for a moment, but I stay silent out of embarrassment.
    “How do you feel about landscaping?” he tosses out and pauses when I don’t answer. “You know, cutting the grass, trimming around the trees and stuff.”
    “Yeah, I know what it means,” I grumble, regretting how harsh it sounded exiting my mouth.
    “Right, well I have three lawns that need to be taken care of.”
    “You got a lawn guy,” I point out, “or guys. They come every Tuesday.”
    “You’re right,” he admits, then pauses, “but I don’t care for them. I’m thinking of letting them go. You have any interest in the job. It’s all three yards, trimming and weeding. The whole nine.”
    I stall, unsure what to say. It feels like charity, but it would be something. Its doubtful mowing the lawn will pay the mortgage; this will not solve the long term problem. Is this just charity and if so, do I mind?
    “You interested?” he asks again, drawing me out of my daze.