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Sister Joan seemed surprised that I was still there when it was time to turn off the lights and lock up. “Thank you, Mr. Fenner,” she said, smiling. “You are welcome back anytime. If you get a food certificate, you may be able to do some of the less-unpleasant work.”Perhaps I was light-headed from lack of food, but it seemed to me Ms. J spoke to me from inside that habit, and I shivered with pride.“I’m happy I could help and didn’t mind doing whatever was needed,” I said.After a long, hot shower, I was ready for bed. My stomach had given up growling and settled into a continual nagging, interrupting my thoughts. I reminded myself that every hour was another hour closer to regaining Ms. J’s trust, although I didn’t know if that would be days or weeks or months. Exhaustion finally overcame hunger and I fell asleep.Until I arrived with her cappuccino in the morning, I had only thoughts of the banana waiting for me in my apartment when the forty-eight hour period was over. Those were. Steve and Beth had their car in a garage on Stuart Street, just around the corner, so Steve went and got it. They offered to take us back to the Hancock garage and I was so glad I could cry. It must have been fifteen degrees. Bob and I rode in the back seat and Beth turned around and talked at us all the way back to the garage. She invited us for dinner the next Friday night. Monday I had lunch with one of my other friends and I insisted on the Trident. Their omelettes are pretty good, and I thought I'd like some more raisins. I even figured I'd probably buy some at the Star Market.Friday night. Of course during that week I'd gone to church and shopped and played with the kids and cooked and talked to poor forlorn about-to-graduates who didn't have any idea what they were going to do after they finished college. And had lunch with my friend at the Trident. That time the raisins gave me no trouble, but then I didn't have Beth sitting across the table. Of course I didn't think at all.
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