Back in the little room, Evelyn washed clothes for one dollar a piece. In a week she saved twenty-three dollars. Linda tucked the money into a tin.
“It’s not much,” Evelyn said.
“But it’s yours,” Linda replied. “You earned it.”
That night, while Evelyn slept, Linda pulled out the yellow envelope again and stared at it for a long time.
“This can’t be everything,” she murmured. “There has to be something here.”
The humiliations kept coming.
Ruth spoke loudly in the yard, not bothering to lower her voice.
“That blind woman smells like mildew. Makes the place look bad.”
Others nodded in silence.
“And Linda acting like a saint… we’ll see how long that lasts.”
Linda stepped into the yard. “Ruth, Evelyn washed for half this neighborhood while you begged credit at the corner store. Don’t you dare talk about her.”
Ruth stood up. “If you love her so much, leave together. Let’s see who can stand you.”
On Sunday, Evelyn asked a favor.
“Can you take me to church?”
Linda agreed. They walked slowly; Evelyn held her arm and counted steps, as always. At one corner she missed the uneven curb and fell to her knees on the asphalt.
No one stopped. People walked around them like they were furniture.
Only Linda helped her up.
“I’m still here,” she whispered. “You’re not alone.”
At church, Evelyn knelt before the altar.
“Father… can you pray for my son?”
“What’s his name?”
“Dr. Ethan Carter.”
The priest didn’t recognize it. He nodded politely and walked away.
Evelyn prayed anyway—for the son who erased her from his life.
When they returned, Evelyn felt something wrong.
Her few clothes were thrown on the dirt in the yard—three blouses, the skirt, even her rosary, dusty.
“What happened?” Evelyn asked, feeling the ground with her hands.
Ruth appeared. “They were in the way. I put them where they won’t bother anyone.”
Evelyn said nothing. She gathered each piece in silence, wiped the rosary clean, and pressed it to her chest.
Three days later, Evelyn started coughing. First dry, then fever—low but persistent. Linda cared for her with homemade tea and cool cloths.
“You need a doctor.”
“We don’t have money.”
“We’ll figure something out.”
While the kettle boiled, Linda kept thinking about the papers. The envelope. The words she couldn’t read.
“There has to be something in those documents,” she muttered. “It can’t end like this.”
At the community health clinic, the doctor examined Evelyn in under five minutes.