“Take it with you.”
Our family doesn’t often make breakfast in the morning. It’s usually leftovers from dinner the night before.
I grab a bowl from the dishwasher.
“Mom told me about your new job,” Dad says, sipping his coffee.
I’ve been meaning to update him on things. We haven’t spoken much these last few weeks. Especially since I’ve been coming home pretty late. “Yeah, it just started. But I already like it better than my last one.”
“Good.”
I pour some milk into my bowl and head to the table. Dad is going through some papers, his forehead furrowed. It’s easy to tell when he’s frustrated with something. I glance over his shoulder, wondering what he’s reading.
“What are you working on?”
“Insurance,” he says. He points to a section in the letter. “But I don’t know what it means.”
“Do you want me to read it?”
Dad looks at the table, thinking. Although he’s lived in the US for more than twenty years, his English isn’t perfect. He speaks mostly Vietnamese around the house, especially with our family. “If you have time,” he says.
I take a seat next to him and look over the letter. The language is a bit jarring, some legal words even I don’t understand. Jasmine has always been the one to translate these things. Phone bills, tax forms, etc. It’s one of those moments her absence is really noticed. Sometimes I wish my parents would ask for my help more often. I have this feeling they don’t want to bother me. That’s probably my fault for keeping to myself these days. But I hate knowing they’re struggling alone. We spend the rest of the morning reading through letters, filling out paperwork together. It’s a good feeling to be able to help out once in a while.
I miss the train on my wayto the theater. The paperwork took longer than I expected, but thankfully I’m only twenty minutes late. I nearly slip on the marble as I hurry through the lobby to clock in. Simon and Alex are in the main box office, sitting casually on the counter, sharing a bag of Twizzlers. They’re turned toward each other, giggling about something. The moment they hear me, Simon straightens up, crossing one leg over the other. “Well, look who’s fashionably late today,” he says. “Another homeless guy jump on the tracks on your way here?”
Alex smacks his arm. “That’s not funny, Simon.”
“Who said I was making a joke?”
“Sorry,” I say breathlessly, setting my things on the floor. “I was helping my dad with something and forgot—”
Simon waves it off. “Relax,nobody cares you’re late.”
“Oh.”
“Did you lose something?” Alex asks me.
“What do you mean?”
Alex reaches behind her, sliding something into view. “The house manager found this in the theater.”
“My camera!”
I must have left it on the piano last night.
“It had your name on the strap,” she says, handing it to me.
“You’re lucky it didn’t end up on Marketplace,” Simon says, taking a swig from his water bottle. “Almost traded it for concert tickets.”
“Thanks for keeping it for me,” I say. I’m surprised they’re even talking to me today. Especially after how they treated me last night.
“It’s the least we could do,” Alex says, a note of guilt in her voice. “We felt bad for making you work out there all night. It was Simon’s idea.”
Simon shoots her a look. “Don’t throw me under the bus.”
I shrug it off. “Honestly, don’t worry about it.”
Alex shakes her head. “But you won’t have to tonight. The old man is back. And healwaysworks the box.”
