I nodded. “I’m Nora,” I added, sharing my last name as well. I introduced my twins, leaning them over so Arthur could see them. He repeated my name once, as if he didn’t want to forget it.
“Nora.”
I walked home that night instead of taking the bus, three miles in the rain, holding my girls close so they wouldn’t get wet. By the time I got to my apartment, my shoes were soaked, and my hands were numb. I remember standing there, staring at my empty wallet. Thinking I was stupid. That I had made a mistake. And that I couldn’t afford kindness.
The next few years weren’t easy. I worked afternoons at a diner and nights at the library. I slept whenever the girls did, which wasn’t much. There was a woman in my building, Mrs. Greene, who changed everything.
“You leave those babies with me when you’ve got a shift,” she told me one afternoon.
