I spent the next two hours walking through downtown Birmingham, asking restaurants and laundromats and small stores if they needed help. Some people ignored me completely, while others glanced at my cheap blouse and tired eyes before saying no with practiced ease.
By noon, the heat pressed down so heavily that the sidewalks shimmered under the sun. I stopped outside a polished café where wealthy people sat behind clean glass drinking coffee that cost more than our weekly groceries, and for one humiliating second I imagined grabbing a plate and running.
Then I heard the conversation from inside.
An older woman with perfectly styled gray hair spoke in a calm, sharp voice that carried even through the glass. “I need someone immediately, Mr. Delgado has dismissed three caretakers already this month,” she said.
The younger woman beside her looked up from a leather planner and asked, “What does he actually need from them?”
“Patience above all else,” the older woman replied. “The accident left him completely paralyzed, and now he is wealthy, private, and impossible.”
My heart started pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears.