At the dump, Jared hunted for salvageable glass among the heaps. Flies feasted on the rotting fruit. The bright sun intensified the foul odour of decomposing milk. He wore a thin cloth mask over his mouth and nose, black mesh gloves already slick with grime. With the sleeve of his tunic, he wiped the sweat of his brow. His tote bag sagged heavier with each piece he added—too much to carry farther. He straightened, shoulders aching, and turned toward home. The dry dirt path crunched under his red and white sneakers.
A black car skidded to a stop beside Jared, dust blasting into his eyes. Osa stepped out, his face twisted with fury.
"You owe me money!" he screamed. "I've waited long enough!" Osa screamed at Jared. Jared knew Osa through Noah, he'd mixed feelings about it gratefully about the cheap medicine not grateful about having to tolerate Osa's fiery temper.
Jared's heart thundered in his chest. Clutched the emptier side of his pocket. "I'll get it to you at the end of the week. I promise you."
Osa's hand shot out, seizing Jared by the throat. Pain bloomed across Jared's windpipe as his face flushed crimson. Gasped, kicking out weakly until Osa released him with a sneer—and a spit to the cheek. "No ifs, no buts," Osa growled, then stormed back to his car and vanished.
Jared rubbed his throat and tasted blood. A week to find the money. Thought of his paintings sitting unsold at the market last week—who bought art when the cartel had tourists fleeing and locals hiding?
He reached home to his hut, and he pushed the red curtain in front of the room out of the way. His mother lay on the hammock.
Jared removed a key from his pants' pocket and approached the safe on the table. Turned the key inside the hole of the safe. The door opened wide. In the safe were bottles of medicines and a syringe.
He reached for the syringe, checked the dose, and carried it to his mother's side. Flinched at the sight, wrinkling her nose, but opened her mouth as he squirted the bitter fluid onto her tongue. Coughed, but she swallowed it, wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
His sister Kerra entered the hut, carrying bags of groceries. "Can I trust you to take care of Mom when I leave for Tiki City?"
"How long will you be there for, Kerra?" Jared raised an eyebrow.
"For about a month. I'll be staying with a friend and will be job searching within the city."
"I can take care of mom," Jared responded.
"Where have you been getting Mom's medicine? It works so well for her pain."
Jared looked away. Couldn't say it: no insurance, no clinic, only a dealer who charged in blood money and threats.
"Don't worry about where I get it. What matters is that mom isn't suffering."
Closed the safe, pocketed the key, and knelt by his mother's hammock. Her face in sleep was gaunt, the skin pulled taut over sharp cheekbones. He reached out and brushed a strand of her black hair from her brow. She didn't stir. Her lips moved slightly, forming silent words he'd never hear.