The woman was quiet for a moment.
“My son used to say something similar about his father,” she said finally, and there was something in her voice that made Luis decide not to ask any further questions about that.
When the repair was finished, he lowered the hood and wiped his hands. He started toward the small desk near the bay entrance where receipts were written up. She followed, opening her handbag.
And then she stopped.
She searched one compartment, then another, then patted the sides of the bag and searched again. A small crease formed between her brows. She looked up at him with an expression of genuine distress.
“I’ve left my wallet,” she said. “I can’t believe it. I had it this morning, I’m certain of it, and I must have set it down when I was taking the laundry in and just…”
She pressed her lips together, and he could see the embarrassment rising in her face.
“I’m so sorry. I live twenty minutes away. I could go back for it, or I could call someone, or perhaps there’s a way to pay another time, I understand if that’s not something you’re able to do…”
She was speaking more quickly than she had at any point during their conversation, which told him the embarrassment was real.
Luis looked at her for a moment. Then he looked down at the receipt he was holding. He thought about his mother and the medication and the numbers on the kitchen table. He thought about all of that very quickly.
