Counting by 7s(36)

“No!”

But it’s too late. Pattie has opened the louvered door to reveal a wall of underwear.

There are hundreds of them.

I used to enjoy estimating quantities, but not anymore. I know with certainty that in the past this would have really interested me.

Pattie steps back as Dell sputters:

“I’m . . . behind on the laundry!”

This is truly an understatement. Pattie looks from Dell to the underwear and then to me.

It seems obvious that there is no way that it could ever appear that Pattie and her kids live in this apartment.

But I’m wrong.

I’m not sure what flipped her switch, but maybe it’s the size of the challenge.



We are back in Dell’s dusty Ford now heading (under Pattie’s direction) to the Salvation Army on Ming Street.

Minutes later we all stand at the front counter of the secondhand store.

Pattie has picked out a red Formica table with four nondescript dining chairs, a stuffed lemon-colored sofa, and a leather lounger that swivels in a complete circle.

She has the tags for a metal frame bunk bed with mattresses that appears to at one time have belonged to a military enthusiast. Worn SEMPER FI stickers cover most of the railings.

It isn’t until Dell’s credit card is out that he has the courage to ask:

“How are we going to get all this stuff back to my place?”

Pattie, without explanation, heads straight out the glass door to the sidewalk, leaving Dell to complete the transaction.



Dell and I find her standing outside at the curb next to a truck that says WE HAUL.

The two men who get out to help us are named Esteban and Luis. They have well-developed packing skills.

It doesn’t take them long until they have all the furniture tied down into the back of the very worn-looking pickup.

Upon arrival at the Gardens of Glenwood, the two men carry everything up the flight of stairs to Dell’s apartment without even breaking a sweat.

Pattie supervises.

Dell stays out of the way.

I’m the silent observer.

Now all we have to do is get rid of his junk.



Pattie thrusts a detailed list into Dell’s hands and orders him to the market.

Once he is gone, she positions me with Luis and Esteban in a line where we form a human chain.

There are only four of us, but using this ancient means of transport, months of trash leaves the building.

Dell returns two hours later and most of his stuff is now in the building Dumpsters. He says it was his plan to take it to the recycling center.

But I know that he’s lying.

He doesn’t seem upset that we got rid of his things, so I guess he’s not a hoarder.

He just has trouble with follow-through.





Chapter 33





Mai stayed after school on Fridays to participate in a program for at-risk teens.

They didn’t call them that, though. They called them “special enrichment students.”

But of course she knew.

Mai had read the pamphlet describing the funding for the project. It was on the desk of the Team Leader the day of the first meeting, so she wasn’t really snooping or anything.

She was curious what they thought she was at risk for.

Once a week a dozen chosen kids met at the school library to discuss everything from setting your sights on college to the importance of getting your teeth cleaned.

Today a woman was talking about eating green vegetables and doing extracurricular activities to build a résumé.

When she finished, they were all given little tickets. At the end of the program they could turn them in for prizes or something. The Team Leader wasn’t clear on that.

Mai loaded her backpack with new books from the school library and walked to the bus stop.

Most of the kids who weren’t “at risk” had their own cars to drive home, or parents who picked them up.

So maybe, Mai thought, the risk part involved riding the city bus.



The bus shelter in front of the school had a flowerbed with the toughest roses in Bakersfield.

Or at least that’s what Mai thought as she stared at the thorny bushes. One of the few things that Willow had said in the last month was that everything in life could be seen in a garden.

According to her, if a plant was in decent soil and had sun and enough water, a bud would at some point show up. It would start small and very green.

Sometimes bugs ate holes in the exterior of the bud, but if they didn’t get too deep into the thing, it would bloom.

And the world would see the flower.

With time, the outer petals would start to wrinkle, beginning at the tips. The shape couldn’t hold and the whole thing would open up big and then sloppy.

The rose was now more affected by the wind or the rain or even the hot sun.

The petals would finally just dry up, and break away, falling to the ground.

That left only a round bulb, which was the skull of the thing. And in time that would finally drop as well, returning to the soil.

There was as much of a lesson in that, Willow had explained, as in anything she had been told by anyone about life or death or the stages in between.

What was the rose before it was a rose?

It was the soil and the sky and the rain and the sun.