Life Will Have Its Way Read Free Page A

I saw a pair of lights flicker and bounce as they moved slowly down the street ahead of their car. I grew even more hopeful when I saw that the car was a taxi. It made perfect sense. Of course the grandmother wouldn’t have her own car. My heart fluttered, this had to be her grandmother. Maybe the woman was old and forgetful, she probably just wasn’t used to bringing the girl to the city and had accidently left without her. The car drew nearer, it looked as though it was going to stop directly in front of the garden. I started to stand, I would have to go out immediately, before the grandmother had time to panic when she saw that the bench, the bench where she’d left her little granddaughter sitting, was empty.
    The cab pulled to the curb. The bright red lights of the brakes flashed, then froze behind the car. The driver got out and went to the rear passenger door. He would feel he should help an old woman out of the car, he would know she was unfamiliar with the city, unfamiliar with riding in a cab altogether. The man leaned to pull the handle. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were on film that had been intentionally slowed. The door swung open and a pair of feet dropped from the back of the car, the person, whoever it was, put their hand on the top of the door and pulled themselves up out of the cab.
    It wasn’t a woman. My heart sank for a second then quickly recovered. “Is that your grandfather?”
    The girl jumped up. She cupped her hands to the window and looked in the direction I was pointing. She continued to look for some time.
    “Well, is it?” I asked anxiously.
    She pulled her face back from the glass, and turned to me, with a sad, half-smile, she shook her head, she looked as disappointed as I felt. I took one long last look down the street and realized it was time to give up on the window, time to give up on trying to will someone to the garden.
    The girl had already moved to the couch, I watched her small head as it teetered back and forth, suddenly too heavy for her neck. It would slip to the side then her eyes would fly open at the same time that her head jerked back into place. I went for blankets and a pillow and a bed was soon made up for her. She was asleep by the time I’d cleared her dishes from the table.
    I slunk down in the chair next to her, my thoughts were beginning to spin in nervous, repetitive circles when a familiar knock interrupted the cycle.
    “Yoo-hoo, it’s me!”

Chapter 2
    Anja had lived in the building forever but I’d only known her myself for the last few of years. I figured she must have been in her fifties, but never dared ask. We didn’t really have much in common but I found myself immediately drawn to her quirky style and sweet, feisty spirit.
    She usually popped over when she felt like having dessert or better yet, had her hands on some kind of dessert mix. Mixes were the best. All of the ingredients were pre-packaged and almost everything you needed was right there, ready to go, you didn’t have to forage or beg, speculate or substitute. As soon as I would answer the door Anja would smile mischievously, push whatever she was holding in my direction and ask if I didn’t mind whipping something up. For someone who loved sweet starches as much as she did, she seemed to have an unusual disinterest in baking. 
    “You don’t happen to have extra flour, do you?” she asked as she forced a can of peaches into my hand, her eyebrows rising slyly up and down.
    I pulled her quickly inside and started to tell her about the girl while she slipped out of her shoes. She raised her chin to look over my shoulder, her eyes scanned the room and she pushed herself past me. She got close to the couch then stopped short. She stared at the sleeping child, straightened the sides of her shirt, then brought one hand to her mouth, holding her elbow with the other. She bit the side of her lower lip, then shook her head slowly side to side.
    “She was just sitting