The Carrier by Preston Lang

I
kind of got overextended, you know?”
    They let him continue.
    “ We need to get out to
California—my wife and me. We can either fill up with gas, or get a
motel room. Or get a meal. I’m just saying can you help us
out?”
    “ We’re not rich people,
either,” Willow said.
    “ I know that. Rich people
won’t give you the time of day. You just look like a couple of
decent folks who might understand what we’re dealing
with.”
    “ There you are,” the
buckskin woman joined the tall man, and the three of them—mom, dad,
and baby—stood over the table. “What’s going on here?”
    “ Well, I was just asking
them for a little help.”
    Willow watched the woman carefully,
still pretty keen on the idea that these people were out to get
them.
    “ You guys thinking of having
any?” the man asked.
    “ Any what?”
    “ Kids? They’re just
beautiful, but they’re so much damn work.”
    “ Yeah? You got a boy or
girl?” Cyril asked.
    “ A girl—Maisey,” the woman
said, rocking her bundle back and forth.
    “ Can I hold her?” Willow
asked.
    What the hell? Willow wanted to hold a
baby? She didn’t exactly have a maternal look in her
eyes.
    “ Sorry, she’s asleep right
now,” the buckskin woman said.
    “ I can give you ten
dollars,” Cyril said.
    The man was disappointed, but the
woman looked genuinely moved.
    “ Bless you,” she
said.
    Cyril reached into his
pocket.
    “ Oh, you’ve got my wallet,
right?” he said to Willow.
    “ I think I do, my
dear.”
    Willow reluctantly took ten dollars
out of her pocket and handed it to the man. She didn’t give the
wallet back to Cyril.
    “ That’s really good of you,”
the man said.
    He and his wife sat down at the table.
The waitress came over and asked if they were ready to order. The
man looked bashfully at Cyril. Cyril nodded and Willow kicked him
under the table. The man ordered two club sandwiches with fries.
Cyril and Willow got a slice of pie to share.
    “ Thank you so much,” the
woman said. “We’re just so hungry. Hard to believe you can work up
such an appetite sitting down all day, but I really needed this.
How’d y’all meet?”
    Y’all? She didn’t sound southern. With New Jersey plates and her
sixties clothes, what exactly was the story?
    “ We met in a yoga class,”
Cyril said.
    “ Really? Stretching on the
floor, that kind of thing?” the man asked.
    “ It was kind of magical,”
Willow said.
    She still sounded surly, but Cyril was
pretty sure she was a little turned on by pretend yoga.
    “ She had to correct my form
several times,” Cyril said.
    He was relaxed, lying just for the
hell of it, but he was still alert, glancing out the window
frequently. When the food came, the woman stood up.
    “ Let me just put Maisey in
her crib. I’ll be right back.”
    “ You can’t leave a baby in a
truck—she’ll freeze,” Willow said.
    “ We’ve got the heater on;
she’ll be much more comfortable in the portable crib where she can
really relax.”
    The woman went back out to the truck.
The rest of them ate in silence for a few minutes.
    “ Jean is really too proud to
do this kind of thing,” the tall man said, “but, you know, you get
down on your luck, right? And I hate to press it, but ten dollars
isn’t going to get us a room.”
    “ Just eat your sandwich,
okay?” Willow said.
    “ My man?” he looked at
Cyril.
    “ Don’t look at him,” Willow
said sharply.
    “ Hey, she’s got the
wallet.”
    “ Brother, why does she hold
your wallet? I mean, what is that about?”
    “ Can you just accept the
answer?” Willow said.
    “ Maybe you could quiet down
and let your man speak a word for himself.”
    “ Have you ever been stabbed
in the eye with a fork?”
    “ Man, I’ll shut your lady up
if I have to.”
    “ Just take the sandwich and
go,” Cyril said.
    “ You’re going to tell me
what to do? A dude like you?”
    Cyril saw an idea forming—the man was
going to attack. Cyril just had to hope Willow