Page 23 of All for her Forgiveness

I've thought about reporting him to the general management, but according to a rumor I heard, another cleaner who did the same ended up on the street.

I can't wait for my aunt to get well so I can finally leave New Orleans. I can't go now, when she can barely take care of herself, no matter how mean she's been to me all my life.

I want to go to Los Angeles or Manhattan. Try to sell my drawings on the street. The other day I read that many artists started out like that.

"She doesn't need your help, Greytak," I hear Mr. Ernest Wich, the neighbor who got me this job, say behind me.

I breathe a sigh of relief, although I don't want him to get into trouble because of me.

I look up to see the manager's reaction, ready to defend Mr. Ernest if necessary, while wondering what the security guards are thinking seeing three employees standing in the middle of the hall during working hours—a manager, a cleaner, and a dealer.

To my surprise, however, despite staring at me, Greytak says nothing and even takes a step back. Then he looks over my shoulder, where I guess Mr. Ernest is, and walks away.

"Thank you," I say as I turn to speak to my savior. "But won't this make trouble for you?"

"No, he can't do anything to me. I know some dirt on that jerk."

I'm confused and curious to ask what it is, but I don't want to be nosy. I owe a lot to Mr. Ernest.

"Come on, I'll accompany you to the room you have to clean so you don't run the risk of another joker getting in your way."

"I only have a few more, and then I can go."

"How is Riny doing?" he asks as we walk together. His voice sounds flat, without anger or disdain, just curiosity, although intuition tells me he doesn't like Aunt Riny.

"The same. There are days when she can't even get out of bed because of the back pain."

She fell down a staircase at one of her jobs when I was around fourteen, and since then, she can't work anymore.

"Is she still abusing the medications?"

"How do you know about that?"

"I heard you two talking when I came to pick you up yesterday."

Mr. Ernest always gives me a ride to the casino because it's a way for me to save transport money.

"Aunt Riny has been taking more and more, and I don't know what to do. I even thought about calling her mother, Mrs. Vina, in New York."

"And why didn't you?"

"I don't want to be disloyal. I'm also not sure they get along all that well. Since I've lived with my aunt, her mother has only visited her once, and the opposite is not true. Aunt Riny has never left New Orleans to visit her. They hardly talk on the phone. And from what I know, Mrs. Vina already has plenty to do, if what my aunt said is true, taking care of a millionaire family's house and her granddaughter."

"Granddaughter? Riny had children?"

"No. Pam is Mrs. Vina's youngest son's daughter, who died very young. She's a year younger than me. I really don't know much; my aunt doesn't like to talk about it."

"Well, anyway," he says when we reach the door of the room I have to clean, "you need to think about the future. Have you decided on New York or California?"

He knows about my plans for when my aunt gets better. There's nothing for me in Louisiana.

"No. If only I had already talked to this Mrs. Vina on the phone, maybe she could help me find a place to stay in Manhattan, but she only saw me once, and I don't even know if she remembers me."

"No one who meets you is capable of forgetting you, Kennedy. Not only because of those blue eyes that seem like a doll's, but also because of the long, brown hair and fair skin. If you wanted, you could be a photographic model."

I chuckle. "Just photographic, right? Because to be a runway model, I'd have to ask God for another four inches. I saw the other day that if you're less than five foot nine, they won’t even consider you."

"But have you thought about it?"

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