He understood social workers who smiled while explaining why another family had changed its mind.
He understood why I kept canned food even when the cupboards were full.
We met in the stockroom of a discount department store where I worked after aging out of care.
He repaired cars at a garage three blocks away and came in one evening looking for work boots.
I knocked an entire box of hangers onto the floor.
He helped me pick them up.
“That looks serious,” he said.
“What?”
“The hanger situation.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
He smiled.
And for the first time in my life, someone’s attention did not make me wonder what they wanted.
Jake had nothing.
Neither did I.
That made things simple.
We rented a basement apartment where the bathroom window faced a brick wall.
In winter, cold air came through the kitchen cabinets.
Jake proposed with a ring he bought at a pawn shop.
