Jared scavenged for glass among the heaps at the city dump. The owner had only one rule: don't leave trash in the trash pile.
Flies feasted on the rotting fruit. The blazing sun intensified the foul odour of decomposing milk. A thin cloth mask covered his mouth and nose, while black mesh gloves protected his hands, already slick with grime.
With the sleeve of his tunic, he wiped the sweat of his brow. With every new piece of glass, the tote bag sagged heavier, threatening to become too much to carry. Straightening his aching shoulders, he turned for home, his red-and-white sneakers crunching against the dry dirt path.
A black car skidded to a stop beside Jared, dust blasting into his eyes. Osa stepped out, fury twisted his plump lips.
"You owe me money!" he screamed. "I've waited long enough!" Osa screamed at Jared.
Jared knew Osa through Noah. He had mixed feelings towards him—grateful for access to medicine that was cheaper than the pharmacy, but less grateful for Osa's fiery temper.
Jared's heart thundered in his chest. Clutched the emptier side of his pants' 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 slipped off his shoes, tossing his grime-slicked gloves and mask into the straw-knit hamper against the wall. Stepping toward the red curtain that divided the space, he quietly pulled it back. His mother lay in the hammock, a thin blanket draped over her frail form.
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 and wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
Kerra entered the hut with arms full of groceries and carried them into her mother's bedroom.
Her eyes were fixed on Jared. "Can I trust you to take care of Mom while I'm in Tiki City?"
"How long will you be away for, Kerra?" Jared raised an eyebrow.
"About a month. I'll be staying with a friend at their apartment and job searching in the city."
"I can take care of mom while you're couch surfing," Jared responded.
"Very funny," Kerra replied. "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.