“Shoot, she won’t be home right now. She is at the church leading the early morning service. It’s the time for early morning prayer.”

“Where is the church?”

“Did you see the main street with the fire station? Once you get there, ask somebody. It’s the largest church in Youngdo, so someone there should be able to point the way.”

She leaves, but I feel like there is something whispering in my ears, and it’s not the sound of rain. I feel like I am on a precarious cliff. A pastor? I feel like it might not be my mom. I hope it’s not my mom.

* * *

A few people emerge from the building that looks like the church. Most of them are women. Is that her, the person over there with a bright countenance? She isn’t that far away but her face flickers in my vision. She is looking at me! I cover my face with the umbrella. Should I have come this way? I turn around. I start running, slipping in the rain. It’s hard to breath. One leg tries to run, the other leg begs me to stop, dragging behind me. Stop, stop. My achy leg struggles against getting farther away from her. How do I keep my body from splitting in two? Please speak, my heart! Suddenly a fire truck rushes by blaring a loud siren, and I feel panicked. I jump onto a bus that is about to leave. I find an empty seat and plop down. The bus stops and goes. There is a huge traffic jam.

“What the hell is going on? Is there a fire or something?” someone complains loudly.

“Don’t you see the smoke, lady?” the driver growls. A man taps on my arm.

“Lady, move your umbrella a bit, would ya? My pants are getting soaking wet.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I pass the umbrella to the other hand, and he continues.

“You’re taking that home?”

“What?”

“You borrowed that umbrella from me.” I realize that the man is the same guy who was eating at the hole-in-the-wall soup shop.

“Oh, I forgot!”

An intense fume of alcohol emanates from him. It’s still early in the morning. “Did you find the person you were looking for?”

“Well, yes … no.”

“What kind of answer is that? People ought to give straightforward answers. You were looking for that lady who goes to church all the time, right? She essentially lives in the church prayer ward. She keeps stopping busy people like me to talk about Jesus and giving me some garbage flyer. Some sort of pastor or minister or something.”

“Wait, so you knew who I was looking for. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I remembered after you left. Whatever.”