at the door, leaving it unopened. Looking across the car roof at the handsome man, Hope felt a familiar longing. “He’s back, you know.”
“Ayuh,” said Dylan, looking elsewhere. “I expect he is.”
C HAPTER E IGHT
T O R ILEY K EEP’S VERY GREAT SURPRISE, HE AWOKE .
He opened his eyes to a simple world composed only of two great blocks of color, a large green shape above him and a pale blue field beyond. After a minute of concentration he realized he was lying on his back, looking up at the side of a garbage bin against the open sky. He rolled his head into an errant ray of sunshine. Squinting, he rolled his head back again and sat up with a grunt. The empty bottle dropped off of his naked chest and shattered. Tiny flakes of frost crackled in the wrinkles of his skin, showering to the alley bricks as he scooted on his bottom toward the garbage container, the bits of ice and broken glass around him sparkling in the morning light. When his bare back touched the freezing metal bin Riley flinched and jerked away. Shivering, he leaned forward and drew his shirt and undershirt and coat over to his side. One by one he shook the frost from them and put them on, and then he leaned against the bin once more. He blew on his hands and tucked them underneath his armpits. Sitting there that way, he frowned. It was cold, wicked cold, even in the sunshine, so cold his body heat had not stopped frost from forming on his skin. Why was he not dead?
Slowly, the light shifted until it was full in his face. The slight warmth of it felt good, though his feeble eyes could not abide the brightness. He rose to his feet, grunting again at the effort and the spikes of pain in his joints. He shuffled down the alley to stand where it opened onto Main Street.
Unlike the evening before, he saw people here and there. Not just homeless people from away, but Dublin folks as well. Riley was surprised by this at first, but then he remembered it was Monday morning, a workday. A panel truck slowed and turned down the alley, then abruptly stopped, facing him. Riley looked up at the man behind the windshield, who gestured impatiently, indicating he wanted to drive on. Blowing into cupped hands, Riley got out of the workingman’s way and set out along the sidewalk. He was hungry and hoped it was not too late for breakfast at the shelter.
He passed Henry’s Drug Store half a block away without a second glance. Farther up the hill someone called behind him.
“Hey! Hang on!”
Barely noticing, Riley kept walking.
“Hey! Hold up a minute, will ya?”
The voice was closer to him now. Riley turned and to his surprise found a man was calling him. The slender fellow wore a plaid jacket and chinos and stood in front of Henry’s store, too far away for Riley’s weak eyes to make out any details. He said, “Weren’t you in my church yesterday?”
Riley had some dim recollection of this, and felt a sudden fear. “No,” he said.
The man walked toward him. “Sure, I saw you. You’re the one Bill kicked out during Communion.”
“No, not me.”
“Aw, come on. I saw you.”
Riley started walking away as fast as he could. The man caught up and fell in beside him. “What’s your hurry?”
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“Trouble? Naw, you got me all wrong. I was gonna offer you a job.”
Riley kept on walking.
“Don’t ya want a job?” The man made a show of looking Riley up and down. “You look like you could use the money.”
“Why?”
“Well, no offense, but I mean, just look at yourself.”
“No, I mean why do you want to give me a job?”
“Oh. Well, I need help, and you obviously need money, so. . . .”
Riley slowed, then stopped. “What kind of job?”
“Just this an’ that round the drug store there. Sweepin’ up. Straightenin’ the stock. That kinda thing.”
Riley squinted at the man to see a neat, short haircut touched with gray and the shadow of heavy whiskers dark on his clean-shaven chin and cheeks.
“Ayuh,” said Dylan, looking elsewhere. “I expect he is.”
C HAPTER E IGHT
T O R ILEY K EEP’S VERY GREAT SURPRISE, HE AWOKE .
He opened his eyes to a simple world composed only of two great blocks of color, a large green shape above him and a pale blue field beyond. After a minute of concentration he realized he was lying on his back, looking up at the side of a garbage bin against the open sky. He rolled his head into an errant ray of sunshine. Squinting, he rolled his head back again and sat up with a grunt. The empty bottle dropped off of his naked chest and shattered. Tiny flakes of frost crackled in the wrinkles of his skin, showering to the alley bricks as he scooted on his bottom toward the garbage container, the bits of ice and broken glass around him sparkling in the morning light. When his bare back touched the freezing metal bin Riley flinched and jerked away. Shivering, he leaned forward and drew his shirt and undershirt and coat over to his side. One by one he shook the frost from them and put them on, and then he leaned against the bin once more. He blew on his hands and tucked them underneath his armpits. Sitting there that way, he frowned. It was cold, wicked cold, even in the sunshine, so cold his body heat had not stopped frost from forming on his skin. Why was he not dead?
Slowly, the light shifted until it was full in his face. The slight warmth of it felt good, though his feeble eyes could not abide the brightness. He rose to his feet, grunting again at the effort and the spikes of pain in his joints. He shuffled down the alley to stand where it opened onto Main Street.
Unlike the evening before, he saw people here and there. Not just homeless people from away, but Dublin folks as well. Riley was surprised by this at first, but then he remembered it was Monday morning, a workday. A panel truck slowed and turned down the alley, then abruptly stopped, facing him. Riley looked up at the man behind the windshield, who gestured impatiently, indicating he wanted to drive on. Blowing into cupped hands, Riley got out of the workingman’s way and set out along the sidewalk. He was hungry and hoped it was not too late for breakfast at the shelter.
He passed Henry’s Drug Store half a block away without a second glance. Farther up the hill someone called behind him.
“Hey! Hang on!”
Barely noticing, Riley kept walking.
“Hey! Hold up a minute, will ya?”
The voice was closer to him now. Riley turned and to his surprise found a man was calling him. The slender fellow wore a plaid jacket and chinos and stood in front of Henry’s store, too far away for Riley’s weak eyes to make out any details. He said, “Weren’t you in my church yesterday?”
Riley had some dim recollection of this, and felt a sudden fear. “No,” he said.
The man walked toward him. “Sure, I saw you. You’re the one Bill kicked out during Communion.”
“No, not me.”
“Aw, come on. I saw you.”
Riley started walking away as fast as he could. The man caught up and fell in beside him. “What’s your hurry?”
“I don’t want any trouble.”
“Trouble? Naw, you got me all wrong. I was gonna offer you a job.”
Riley kept on walking.
“Don’t ya want a job?” The man made a show of looking Riley up and down. “You look like you could use the money.”
“Why?”
“Well, no offense, but I mean, just look at yourself.”
“No, I mean why do you want to give me a job?”
“Oh. Well, I need help, and you obviously need money, so. . . .”
Riley slowed, then stopped. “What kind of job?”
“Just this an’ that round the drug store there. Sweepin’ up. Straightenin’ the stock. That kinda thing.”
Riley squinted at the man to see a neat, short haircut touched with gray and the shadow of heavy whiskers dark on his clean-shaven chin and cheeks.
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