“My cat. Who else could it be?”
“You named your cat Phyllis? Why did you name your cat Phyllis?”
“I think we’re getting off on a tangent,” Bea said, her voice rising with irritation. “All I’m trying to say is where we’ll be. You know. If you get cold or scared or something.”
A long silence.
Then Allie said, “Thank you.”
Bea powered up the window and drove on.
Bea had no idea how much time had elapsed before the girl came around and knocked her tiny knock. She had been blissfully asleep.
She stumbled up and opened the back doors. They stood a moment, considering each other as best they could in the dark.
“Cold?” Bea asked with the slightest prickle in her tone. “Or lonely?”
“Both,” Allie said in a pathetically small voice.
Bea stepped back, and the girl came in without further comment. She walked straight to the blankets that sat folded in the rear corner of the van and laid them out on the hard corrugated metal of the van floor. She settled herself, still without speaking.
Bea lay awake in silence for a time, unsure of whether she felt the need to explain herself or not.
“This is all because of my getting robbed,” Bea said. “Before that I never took from anyone, not in my whole life. Then somebody stole all the money in my bank account and I was homeless. What was I supposed to do? I need to eat. I need gas. Everybody has to live, and so what was I supposed to do?”
A long silence. Long enough that Bea began to think Allie would never answer. Or maybe the girl had already fallen asleep.
“Some people hold up a sign that says they need gas or food. You know. They ask for money instead of just taking from people.”
“You must be joking! I would never! How absolutely humiliating!”
Another long, freighted silence.
“So what you’re saying is . . . it’s all about your pride? You’d rather steal a phone from a little girl than be embarrassed?”
Bea felt her face redden. She felt flummoxed, almost unable to speak. She struggled to open her mouth, though she was unsure what would come out of it when she did.
Before she could manage any words, Allie spoke again.
“No, never mind. I’m sorry I said any of that. I wouldn’t even have brought it up again. It’s just that you sort of asked. But it’s none of my business. You’re letting me sleep here again, so I need to shut up. I’m sorry. I have no right to judge you. Thank you for letting me sleep here tonight.”
Bea took several seconds to straighten herself out inside.
Then she said, simply, “You’re welcome.”
No more words were spoken for a time. In fact, Bea assumed they were done speaking for the night.
When Allie spoke again, it made her jump.
“So why did you name your cat Phyllis?”
“Why not? What’s wrong with the name Phyllis for a cat?”
“Well, it’s unusual. But I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it. It must have come from somewhere.”
Bea sighed deeply.
“It was nothing. It’s silly. It was just a TV show I used to like.”
“What was the name of the show?”
“Phyllis.”
“I never heard of it.”
“It was long before you were born. It was a spin-off series starring a character from The Mary Tyler Moore Show.”
“I know Mary Tyler Moore. But I never heard of Phyllis.”
“It’s not important. I don’t even know why we’re talking about it. It just made me laugh. I used to enjoy that half hour, when that show was on TV. Not a lot of things make me laugh. For that one half hour a week, I was happy.” She paused, listening to those words as they reverberated throughout the van. They sounded hopelessly silly and sad. “I don’t know if other people have that. Some foolish little thing like that, something that makes them feel everything’s okay. That makes them feel happy.”
“Sure,” Allie said.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I think everybody has something that takes them away for a little while, and then they feel good.”
A long pause. Bea felt disinclined to say more on the subject.
“Happy isn’t all that easy,” Allie said. “People talk about it like it is. People throw the word happy around like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like if nothing is dragging you down from it, you’ll pop right up and be happy without even trying. But it was never that way for me.”
“No,” Bea said. “It was never that way for me, either.”
When Bea opened her eyes again, it was morning. Fully light.
Allie was sitting up, petting the cat and staring into Bea’s face.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked the girl.
“I know where I want you to take me.”
“Up the coast, you said.”
“I need to change my mind. I mean, if I still get to.”
“Remains to be seen. Where do you want to go?”
“My house.”
Bea sat up, pulling the lever that raised her chair into its upright position.
“You have a house? Why on earth would you be here if you have a house you can go to?”
“I can’t live in it. The IRS slapped padlocks on it. The neighbors would notice if anyone was living in it. They’d probably report me or something. But I could get in. It’s my house and I know how to get in. I know which windows usually aren’t locked and if they’re locked for some reason I could even break a window and get in. I doubt the alarm is on. I don’t see how it could be, and even if it is on for some reason, I know the code.”
“And what do we gain by going there?”
Allie held her arms wide as if to indicate herself and her immediate surroundings.
“Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve got nothing here. I don’t even own a toothbrush or a change of underwear. I could get clothes. I could get cash. I have some cash in a piggy bank from when my grandparents used to give me birthday and Christmas money. And so long as you’re going to a pawnshop, I have stuff we can pawn. I have a MacBook, and an iPhone 6, and an iPad. And even a little bit of jewelry.”
“I don’t know any of those things you just said. Except for the jewelry. And I know what an iPhone 6 looks like, but I still find it all confusing.”
“Electronics. Expensive toys. Stuff that’s worth money. That’s all you need to know, right? Then we could eat. Then we’ll know what to do for food and gas.”
“We?”
Bea couldn’t help being mildly affronted that this girl had called them a “we.” As if she had just assumed she could stay on with Bea, when no such invitation had been extended.
Then again, if someone was inclined to attach herself to Bea for the scant shelter she owned, wouldn’t it be nice if it was someone with food and gas money? That sounded most appealing indeed. Like a vast relief. A rest.
“Well . . . yeah,” Allie said. “I mean, if you’re willing to share your van, then I’m willing to share my money. That’s only fair.”
“Then . . . on to your house,” Bea said.
PART FOUR
ALLIE
Chapter Twenty-One