The junkyard has a deserted feel, like nobody’s been there for a long time, although I can hear the television on inside. The blackberries are in bud. I push my bike through the tall weeds between the junk cars, lean it against a lobotomized Toyota, and knock on the front door. After the heavy noise of her slow approach, the door opens just wide enough for me to see that Mrs. Grimshaw doesn’t have her teeth in. When she sees that it’s me on her front stoop, her face gets so red and angry I think she’s going to reach out and clobber me. Over her shoulder I can see Whitney and Dallas watching a soap opera.

“I have something for Melody,” I tell her. “It’s important.”

“He came and got her again,” she snaps at me.

“He did? Mike?”

“Well, it sure as hell wasn’t Santa Claus.” The door shuts in my face, but I do something that surprises both of us. Right before the door closes, I stick my foot in it. She squeezes my foot and then opens the door very slowly and stands in the afternoon sunlight that slants across the field. I stand there on the stoop for a minute. I open my mouth, but no words come out. There are too many.

“I—I—” I stutter on the first sound. “I—I’m sorry.” It takes such an effort to get it out that I practically holler it at her. What am I sorry for? “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” I stammer. No, that’s not it. So I keep going. “I’m sorry I was so … stupid. I didn’t mean to be.”

Mrs. Grimshaw’s face changes a little. She nods. Neither of us thought I was going to say that. She steps back and turns away, leaving the door open. I can see into the house, see the trash spilling off the counter and onto the floor, the potato chip bags and juice boxes and plastic spoons and broken toys. People always said the Grimshaws lived like rats in this house, that it should be condemned. I never knew what they were talking about. I came here day after day, and I never saw any trash. All I saw was people. Now I see the trash. A heap of garbage bags leans against the house, dating from when Whitney and Dallas were in disposable diapers. It’s been gathering for years. Then I hear a window slam shut and the TV goes off. The only noise left is the slow bang of a shutter in the wind.