Mary had been staying with Polly for several weeks. It wasn't working out. Polly never mentioned it, but her facial expression plainly spoke: She was tired of paying all the rent and buying all the food. Mary couldn't find a job. She couldn't go back to Hungry Jim's. Joe hadn't visited her at all, though he knew where she was staying. Maybe there was something between him and Polly.
Mary's dreams had been darker and deeper. She was not sleeping well. She rolled out of bed later and later each day. Without anything to do, it was easy to stay in bed.
This morning she got up at ten. Polly had already left for work. There was a note on the kitchen table: "You could at least do the dishes." Mary crumpled the note and threw it in the garbage can. Then she did the dishes and went outside. She didn't know where she was going. Dark eddies of thought swirled in her brain; terrible images; fights with her mother; her mother's "friends"; Hungry Jim; Uncle Jonathan; Joe; then Joe's face replaced by something dark and sinister.
She wandered, not paying attention to where she was going. Suddenly she found herself on the bank of the river. She stood for a long time staring into the dark, swirling current. With a start, she felt rather than saw someone close by. She whipped her head around and saw the old shriveled black man. His eyes were boring into her.
"What do you want?" Mary demanded. "Why do you keep following me?"
"Make his paths straight," the old man croaked.
"Whose?"
"Protect him. There are those that seek the child's life."
"What child?"
The old man turned and disappeared into the brush.
"Crazy old man!" Mary said out loud. But something told her she should pay attention. But how? What? It didn't make any sense.
It was late afternoon by the time she returned to the white shingle house in the formerly middle class neighborhood. In recent years the neighborhood had become run-down.
Polly was home from the early shift. She had been working a split shift since Mary had left Hungry Jim's. She was Mary's age, but looked older, a little taller; dirty blonde hair with green eyes and an easy smile that could just as easily snap into a sneer. Her face was hard and tanned, hinting at years of toil in the fields.
"Well, where have you been all day, Queen Mary?"
"Down by the river."
"Tough day; guess somebody's gotta do it."
"Polly -- I want to help. I can't find anything. Do you think I could come back to the restaurant?"
"I thought you weren't coming back."
"I know. I know. I don't want to.
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