I patched my shoes instead of replacing them.
I learned which bills could wait three days and which ones could not.
Still, the rent was paid first.
So, on the first of every month, I wrote Mr. Alvarez a check, walked across the yard, and slid it under his back door. That was our whole system.
He never gave me a receipt, and I never asked for one.
Mr. Alvarez kept to himself.
He spent most mornings watering his plants. Sometimes, he fixed things around the property before I even knew they were broken.
Once, he repaired the loose step outside my door.
“You could have told me,” he said.
“I didn’t want to bother you.”
“A broken step becomes a broken ankle.”
Another time, he left a bag of oranges outside our door.
Trixie carried it inside.
“Did the orange fairy come?”
“Apparently.”
I suspected Mr. Alvarez, but when I thanked him, he only shrugged.
