CHAPTER TEN C — THE INSURANCE CALL

My insurance adjuster arrived with a tablet and a measuring tape.
She inspected the damaged door, the tires, the kitchen cabinet, and the gate before asking for receipts.
I had organized them by date in a folder on the dining table.
“You’ve been thorough,” she said.
“I had to repair things quickly.”
“I understand.”
She explained which expenses might be covered and which required additional review.
The kitchen device was still under investigation, so she could not determine every part of the claim that day.
I asked whether the company would contact the police directly.
“With your authorization, we can request the relevant report,” she said.
“That doesn’t mean we control the investigation.”
I signed the release and thanked her.
Before leaving, she asked whether I had somewhere safe to stay while the kitchen repairs were completed.


“My neighbor offered a spare room,” I said.
“And my mother is still at rehabilitation.”
She nodded.
“Keep the receipts for temporary accommodation if you use it.”
After she left, Patricia approached the porch with a newspaper tucked under her arm.
“I see you’ve been making an insurance claim,” she said.
“That’s private.”
“Insurance companies don’t like repeated incidents.”
“Then they can review the incidents under their procedures.”
Patricia smiled.
“You might find the premiums are too high to stay.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked.
“It’s advice.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
She walked away, leaving me with a new reason to keep my interactions brief.
That night, I wrote down her exact words while they were fresh.
I also called my mother and told her the insurance inspection had gone smoothly.


She asked whether I had eaten dinner.
I admitted that I had not.
“Then stop talking about paperwork and make something,” she said.
I cooked eggs and toast and ate them at the kitchen counter.
The meal was unremarkable, which made it feel like a small luxury.

CHAPTER ELEVEN — THE PERSON WHO SAID NO

Theo came to my porch on Tuesday afternoon with his backpack hanging from one shoulder.
He looked as though he had not slept.
“I need to tell you something,” he said.
“Do you want the advocate here?” I asked.
“Maybe.”
I called the number and put the phone on speaker only after he agreed.
The advocate, Simone Reyes, listened while Theo explained that Patricia had asked him to enter my backyard through the side gate.
She had offered him access to a paid landscaping job if he would leave a package near my kitchen door.
“Did you do it?” Simone asked.
“No.”
“What happened to the package?”
“I don’t know.”
He swallowed.
“She said it was a harmless prank.”
“Did she describe what was inside?” Simone asked.
“She called it a noise maker.”
I thought of the smoke and the screaming alarm.
Theo rubbed his eyes.
“I should have said something sooner.”
Simone spoke gently but firmly.
“You are saying something now.”
She arranged to meet him at her office with an attorney from the youth legal clinic.
After the call, Theo looked toward Patricia’s house.
“She told us nobody would believe people like us.”
“That’s one reason people repeat that sentence,” I said.
“They want it to become true.”
He nodded, although I could see that he was still afraid.
I did not ask him to be brave for me.
He had already done something difficult, and he deserved to decide what happened next with people whose job was to protect his interests.