“Excuse me,” I said, and immediately had their attention—all six of them. I leaned a little heavier on my cane. “Is there a bus station, or . . . some way for me to get . . .” I stopped and looked for a moment at the worn toe of my boot. I didn’t know what to ask. “I’m trying to get to Red Creek. No. I’m going to Red Creek, but I don’t have a ride. I mean I had a ride, but she . . .” I stopped again. They must have thought I’d been drugged. I felt as though I’d been drugged.

Then the worst happened. The tears that have pushed against the backs of my eyes since—since when, since I was twelve?—began to fall and splash in the dirt on the black-­and-­white linoleum floor.

“I need to get to Red Creek, and I don’t know how.” I hiccuped loudly, then took a deep breath, ashamed of my display. The silence at the table grew dark. After I had collected myself, taken a couple of good breaths, swiped at my eyes and my nose, I looked up at them.

All six of them were looking at each other, thinking, apparently, about my plight, then one said, “Have you got money?”

I felt in my pocket and drew out the four ones and change left over from my meal. I looked at it stupidly. I felt as if my senses had left me.

“That won’t get you too far,” said another. “Where are you from?”

“But I have more,” I said. “I have a bank account in Pennsylvania.” Again they all looked at each other; this time they each seemed to be uncomfortable—embarrassed, almost—in my presence.

One of the policemen stood up, pulled a smooth five-­dollar bill from his wallet. He held it out to me. “Here,” he said. “There’s a little motel a couple of miles down this road. It’s called ‘Fivers.’ The lady who runs it is named Molly, and she charges five dollars a night. You get there and stay the night, and in the morning you call your bank in Pennsylvania and have them send you some money here, okay?”

I stood there, looking at the money in his hand, thinking about calling the bank in Pennsylvania in the morning. I wouldn’t be awake in the morning. Bank­ing hours were daylight hours, and I couldn’t call them unless I was awake. And how on earth could I get miles down the road with these legs?

He shook the money at me. “Here. Take it. Don’t hang around the streets here at night. It’s dangerous.” He looked at his friends. They avoided his gaze. “Here. Take it!” Reluctantly I accepted his gift. “Now get down to Molly’s or one of us’ll arrest you.” His companions grinned, the tension broken.