Read A Tinfoil Sky for Free Online Page A

overpass. “You can’t stay here, child,” she said.
    “This whole thing is Gladys’s fault – she wouldn’t open the door.”
    “Come on down,” Rose said as she reached up toward Mel.
    Mel shifted her body and hung her feet over the ledge. Getting down was much easier than getting up.
    Rose tucked her hands under Mel’s arms, lifting and then lowering her. Mel felt small, but she also felt safe, and it was such a welcome feeling – like that first gasp for air when you’ve been holding your breath for too long underwater. As Rose brought Mel to the ground, she continued to hold onto her, cocooning Mel in her thick arms.
    “Here now,” she whispered as she held Mel tight, “everything is going to be all right.” Mel gave a deep sigh. And then she let each breath that followed carry away all the worry and fear and sadness that had been threatening to spill out of her for days, maybe even years. It wasn’t the kind of cry you could stop and then start; it was a cry that came from a place so deep inside that for years, when Mel would look back at this moment, she would know that it changed something inside of her forever.
    “Your mom called the mission, and they called Rose,” the officer said. “And we’ve already spoken with your grandmother; she’s expecting you.”
    Mel nodded, her head pressed against Rose’s chest, and continued crying.
    Constable Hill, Ms. Jeffery, and Rose helped Mel gather her things up and put them in the back of thepolice car. The backseat was quiet; the thick glass that separated the front from the back dulled the sounds of the engine and the conversation up front. Rose pulled Mel close, and Mel offered no resistance. Her sobbing eased and she found herself listening to the sounds of their collective breathing and the quiet hum of the tires on the road. It seemed like only minutes before the car pulled up to Gladys’s.
    Rose stayed in the car. Mel would have liked to stay with her.
    “Everything is going to be okay,” Rose whispered as Mel started to get out of the car. She set her hand on Mel’s. “And I hope you’ll come by the kitchen on occasion. I know Fearless will be waiting for a visit.”
    “I will,” Mel answered as she stood up.
    Ms. Jeffery handed Mel a backpack from the trunk of the car. “Here you go,” she said.
    Mel looked up at her, curious about the backpack and why it was being given to her.
    “There’s a toothbrush, some toothpaste, shampoo, a couple of granola bars, and a few other things you might need in there. It’s yours to keep,” Ms. Jeffery said.
    As Constable Hill, Ms. Jeffery, and Mel entered the building, Mel looked up the staircase.
    This time, there was no expectation. Mel knew she would call her “Gladys.”
    They climbed the twenty-four stairs and then walked the sixteen steps to Gladys’s apartment. When Constable Hill knocked, Gladys opened the door. The apartment was dark and plain.
    The front door led directly into the living room. A small off-centered archway led to the kitchen. On one side of the arch there was a polished wooden end table and a lamp, and next to that a brown couch with two circular pillows. The couch was pushed up against the window ledge, which caused the floor-length curtains to bunch up. Here and there were small stacks of dust-covered boxes that had been taped shut. The place looked as though Gladys had been planning to move, and then never did.
    Across from the couch there was a bookshelf. What Mel noticed immediately was that there were no books on it – not a single one. Rather, there were rows of mismatched recycled boxes that were sealed shut with black tape. Mel could see dates scrawled onto the boxes in black or red felt marker. It was difficult to read any of them in the low light. There was no art on the wall – only what appeared to be either light green or gray wallpaper with a faint pattern. Mel glanced down at her armload of dampclothes and then remembered that her blanket was still