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and in good repair. It made the creak of the lopsided gate Jace opened in front of us all the more pronounced.
    There were no flower-lined walkways , just a cracked sidewalk that split the depressing square of land in front of the house into two equal, ugly halves. There wasn’t even a porch. There was a screen door, but in name only. There was no actual screen in the door. In truth it was just a metal frame that I easily reached through to knock, tentatively, on the flat, cheap door beyond.
    It didn’t even look like an exterior door, but more one you’d find when you open a closet. It was as hollow as my spirit when I knocked.
    Was Jace right? Were these people out to extort more money from me?
    It was obviously they were in desperate need.
    I held my breath until the door cracked open an inch. A short, Hispanic woman peered at Jace and me suspiciously. “Yes?”
    “Maya?” I asked. “It’s Jordi.”
    Her eyes widened as she pulled open the door. She was shorter than me, but just as wide. She wore a thread-bare housecoat that used to be white , but had long since drowned any of the cheerful daisies on the print with coffee and food stains that would never wash out.
    Maya Palermo was hunched over just a bit, but she made the effort to straighten as she opened the screen. “Jordana!” she said in a breathless whisper as she opened her arms for me to walk into. I managed to suppress my shock at her disheveled state to give her the hug she wanted. She held on tight and long, though the frailty in her body was impossible to ignore. She felt soft and spongy and brittle in my arms, and she smelled of coffee and cigarettes, with a hint of cheap whiskey thrown in just for good measure.
    “Jordana?” I asked as I gently disentangled myself from her embrace.
    She grinned, and I was even further dismayed that several of her teeth were missing. “Your name,” she answered. “Come in,” she said as she pulled me into the house by one hand.
    A generic daytime talk show blared just a little too loud from the ancient TV on the outer wall. What I could only hope to be secondhand furniture filled the tiny room. There was an ugly brown sofa that was missing one of its three cushions. It had been replaced with a red cushion. Two old recliners faced the TV, and the remnants of what one could only presume was lunch still littered the coffee table.
    “I’m sorry for the mess,” she said as she glanced around her own meager surroundings. “I haven’t been well.” She indicated that Jace and I sit on the sofa, while she eased herself into one of the recliners. She used the remote to put the TV on mute before she turned back to us.
    Though terribly poor and obviously in ill health, she smiled warmly at us. I could see the echo of the woman she used to be, someone who looked very similar to me in her youth, and my heart softened immediately. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten my manners,” she said, chagrinned. “Would you like something to drink?”
    Both Jace and I shook our heads, not wanting to put out this woman who struggled with simple tasks like crossing the room or opening the door. I motioned to Jace. “This is Jace Riga. My boyfriend.”
    She bobbed her head happily. “I know who you are. I never missed an episode of Fierce ,” she admitted. “Once I knew that you were a contestant, I was glued to the set. It was like a miracle to see the woman you had grown into.”
    My brow furrowed. “You knew who I was?”
    She nodded. “Of course.”
    “Why didn’t you get in touch with me before?”
    She lowered her head. “What could I offer you, Jordana? You were on the verge of making every single dream you ever had come true. My presence was a complication you didn’t need. Joe and I decided that long ago, before I moved from Iowa and made my way west. We tried for a while to handle it another way,” she clarified. “Joey would bring you to the park and I was able to hold you and to play with you. But his wife felt