After several hours of going through Cherry's clothing, sorting, laundering, and organizing them, they had found near three hundred dollars, that had absentmindedly been squirreled away amongst her belongings. A dollar here, a few there, forgotten in the pockets of pants she hadn't worn in a year or zipped into a purse she didn't remember owning. With discovery also came an unexpected admission, sharing with Hutch that she could be more responsible with money. He openly agreed.
By the end, having tackled the bulk of her wardrobe, several piles had formed, and satisfied with what they'd accomplished, Cherry insisted that it was time to get on with the rest of their plans. Reluctant, as he could still see how much more there was to do, Hutch took the small win and let his mom have her way.
They spent the rest of the afternoon at the shopping center, where they browsed through shops at Cherry's direction. The experience was near overwhelming for Hutch who couldn't recall the last time he had been surrounded by stores filled with that much stuff. When she directed him into a shoe store, he felt momentarily relieved for the opportunity to sit down, until she began to set boxes near him, ordering him to try on the ones he liked; obliging, only to end the process sooner.
Despite the revelation of her poor handling of finances earlier in the day, it seemed to Hutch that Cherry was happy to have been able to take him to a real shoe store as opposed to the shoe aisle of the bargain shop, she had been planning the night before.
With a new pair of sneakers on his feet, they ended their shopping trip by stopping at the bakery where they picked up the small cake Cherry had been dreaming of, and then it was off to the Walking Garden, just down the road, where they picked up a take-out dinner.
As strange as it had all been for Hutch, to be back in that environment, he found it somewhat comforting to be surrounded by other people, despite knowing none of them. He found the entire concept rather intriguing, being all part of the same city, and yet having no sense of community, except on the broader scale. Even as they drove through the trailer park, he came to realize how few of his neighbors he knew and not just knew of.
Cherry hadn't even mentioned going next door to thank the neighbor who had called Emergency and saved his life, and that stuck with him in an odd way. On Illimev, ignoring such a deed wouldn't be a possibility. Lives there weren't lived separately. Their community only thrived because they were together. While he understood such a thing in the human world was impossible for a number of apparent reasons, on a smaller scale the thought would not abandon him.
"Grab some plates while I throw on something more comfortable," Cherry told him as she set the bags on the table.
"Sure," he replied, taking off his new shoes and placing them just inside his room, hanging his coat on the hook above them.
While Cherry changed, he set out the food on the table, along with the cutlery, and when she came out of her room, she fixed herself a plate and headed for the couch.
"Come on, it's just us, get your butt over here," she huffed, rolling her eyes at him as she picked up the remote and turned on the TV.
Hutch remembered the strange device, and the hours of wasted potential and opportunity he spent before it as it served up entertainment while promoting boredom, a constant source of distraction, and an endless excuse for not getting something else, anything else, done. He dreaded the compulsion to sit before it again, fearing the hold it had once claimed over him. It was a magic he was no longer familiar with, and he was uncertain if he could withstand it with no auxiliary form of protection, like a shield or talisman that provided a mental barrier against its bizarre form of mind control.
Swallowing down his concern, plate in hand, he made his way over to the far end of the couch and sat down.
"Once the news is over, we can watch a movie if you want," she remarked when the phone began to ring.
Setting her plate on the coffee table, she turned and picked the receiver up from its base on the end table beside her, with a perky, "Hello?"
A few seconds later, she grabbed up the remote and muted the TV. "Yes. This is Sheridan, Jules is my son."
He watched her as she turned to look at him, confusion spreading across her face.
"I'm sorry, but what do you mean our bill has been paid? By who?"
Turning back around, she grabbed a pen from the mason jar holder, and jotted something down on the notepad next to it. "I'm just as confused as you are. I've no idea what this is about, but you are absolutely positive, one hundred percent, we owe nothing? Bill is paid? I'm not going to get a call from collectors a month from now saying different?"
Settling back into her seat, she returned the pen to the mason jar. "Okay, well, thank you for letting me know," she said as she turned to look at him once again, her eyes now dampened along the edge. "Okay, You too. Bye, bye."
Hanging up the phone she leaned forward and wiped her eyes.
"What's happened?" he asked her, setting his plate on to the ottoman.
"I don't really know for certain. What she said didn't make much sense. I think Brett must have paid your hospital bill. I, um, I should probably call him and thank him."
"Wait. You said you think he paid. You aren't certain?"
"No. The woman on the phone said a donation had been made in your name, and it was used to pay off several accounts including ours. She wanted to let me know before I saw the story on the news to avoid any confusion. But I just can't think of anyone else besides Brett or his family that might be able to do something like this. Now that I say it out loud though, it seems wrong. They've never lifted a finger to help us, or anyone else for that matter. I can't see them doing something this generous. And I know it's not my parents. They don't even know you were in the hospital, let alone being able to afford it. Just our bill, sure, maybe, if they knew, but others? No way." Picking up the note pad, she looked at what she had written. "Apparently the donation was made by a Chia Piety? Does that mean anything to you?"
Hutch felt his heart sink into his stomach. "Che'Piettai. Did she say shay-piet-tay?"
"Maybe that was it. Why? Does that mean something to you?"
"It does," he replied, swallowing back his discomfort. "It's the name of the second moon of Illimev. Their dead god of charity and good tidings."
"Yeah, no. I don't think that was it. I'm certain it was more like just Charity, now that I think about it. The line was cutting in and out and it was super loud wherever she was, so it was hard to hear her clearly. Either way, the bill's been paid! Even more of a reason to celebrate!"
"Indeed," he replied, feeling less celebratory that she was. Her reaction driving home her reluctance to believe anything he had told to her. "But, if you wouldn't mind, I would like to watch that news story. It would be remiss of me not to thank whoever is responsible, and we might get a clearer answer."
"Sure thing," she said, offering a nervous smile as she picked up her plate and sat back in the couch, turning the volume up before changing the channel.
Following suit, Hutch returned to eating, the food more palatable that anything he'd eaten previous, the bland nature of the white rice helping to dilute the overpowering flavor of salt that seemed to permeate everything else. Not that the knot in his stomach would make it easy for him to eat, lingering with the thought that something else was going on. That somehow, Casimir Salvador was behind this unexpected donation. An unexpected act of philanthropy to toy with him, to let him know that he was still alive, taunting him from a distance, knowing that in this world he couldn't be held responsible for anything he had done on the other.
The thought that Salvador had somehow managed to come to Earth, gnawed at him, making the seconds pass by like minutes. Everything felt wrong, as if he were trapped inside of a mirage, and he were waiting for the food to turn to sand in his mouth, so he could snap out of the nightmare he had found himself living in.