She threw as much into her bag as would fit, trying to be quiet so that she wouldn’t have to explain her latest failure. Just before leaving, she grabbed her wad of tip money. She stuffed it into her purse, as big as the signed maxi pad, and took one last look at the careless comfort of the messy room they’d shared—the Miss Breck hair spray, a tube of lipstick on the window ledge, the bikini top hanging out of the drawer, the fermenting pile of laundry at the foot of the rumpled bed.

She ran to the locker room and asked Ola if she could use the phone. Ola and Biata were like mothers to the girls, always fussing over them, always concerned. They loved the activity and drama of the dressing room, and they loved the girls, every one of them. They kept extra tampons, hair spray, bobby pins, and deodorant in their office, and were always available with a dab of nail polish to stop a run in their nylons from getting worse, or a needle and thread when a seam split, and club soda to treat a stain. “They’re like the world’s best bridesmaids,” Bunny Tina had once said to Sherri, and it was true. Ola could see that Sherri was in a bad state. “Sit, sit,” she said when she saw her. She offered her a pierogi, a small, kind gesture that almost made Sherri fall apart. She knew this was likely the last time she’d see the women who’d so steadily buttressed her days.

Ola handed her the phone and left the room carrying a basket of dirty uniforms. Sherri called Jerry Derzon to ask him to come get her. She knew his number by heart, because she called him twice a week to see about the building. “You’re going to have to wait while I get going,” he said. “I’m not a taxi.”

“It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

Ola saw her as she was leaving. “Oh, biedne dziecko,” she said. Sherri didn’t need to speak Polish to know that she was saying “poor baby.” How she wished she could collapse in Ola’s talcum-scented embrace. She longed for someone to fret over her well-being and ached for her mother. She kissed Ola on the cheek and squeezed her muscular hands, unable to bring herself to say goodbye.

Back in the lobby, the sound of Muzak piping through the speakers was oddly comforting. She plopped into a big chair by the entrance and waited for Jerry to arrive and whisk her away to the dealership. At least she had her new car to look forward to.