A Wind of Change Read Online Free Page A

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    “River. What are you doing here?”
    “Do you have a moment?” I asked, setting my heavy bag down on one of the tabletops.
    “Sure,” she said.
    “As I told you, I won’t be able to work next week. But when I return, I wanted to ask if there are any extra slots you could give me, say… starting Monday the twenty-fourth?”
    She furrowed her brows. “You’re already scheduled to work lunch and dinner, five days a week. You really want to work on weekends too? It’s the summer holidays.”
    Exactly. I had to work as much as I could before school started up again.
    “Yes. I’d like to take as many extra days as you have available. Can you fit me in?”
    “Hm. I s’pose I could schedule you on Saturdays too.”
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “Was that all you came to see me about?”
    “Yes.” I picked up my bag and flung it back over my shoulder. “Have a good evening.”
    “You too, hon,” she said, giving me another smile before looking back down at her tablet.
    I headed back out onto the street and hopped onto another bus. The prospect of a day of extra income per week had lightened my mood a little. I plugged myself back into the calm voice of the Spanish woman. As the last leg of my journey progressed, I became increasingly grateful for her calm, because the bus got delayed a number of times before reaching my neighborhood. My mother would be worrying and wondering why I was late. And my phone battery had died, which meant I couldn’t call her. The thought of my mother worrying always made me tense.
    When the elegant roads gave way to shabbier, rougher-looking ones, I knew I was nearing home. It was dark by the time the bus finally pulled up at my stop. I took a moment to tuck my bag beneath my jacket and pull up the hood over my head before racing along the shadowy sidewalk toward our apartment block. Only lost tourists were out after dark on these streets. When I had a late shift cleaning up in the restaurant kitchen, Trisha usually let me crash at her place and return home in the morning so I didn’t have to make the journey at night.
    At the entrance to our towering apartment block, two hooded men smoked by the doorway. I fixed my eyes on the ground and strode through the door. I walked to the far corner of the entry area where the mailboxes were stacked. Pulling the key from my bag’s zip pocket, I opened our box. There was only one letter inside. A thin brown envelope addressed to Nadia Haik.
    It was still strange to see my mother being addressed by her maiden name, even though it had been more than two years now since the divorce. I slipped the letter into my bag, locked the box and hurried past the elevator toward the stairs. I never used the elevator anymore, not since it had broken down on me six months ago and I’d been trapped in it alone for two hours before the engineer came.
    I climbed up staircase after staircase until I reached the seventh floor. Panting, I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. The smell of delicious cooking wafted into my nostrils. It made me realize how hungry I was.
    I ran the rest of the distance to the door of our two-bedroom apartment and opened it with my key.
    “River?” My mother’s voice drifted through from the kitchen as I shut the door behind me.
    “Hello, Mom,” I called back, untying my shoes.
    She appeared in the hallway wearing an apron, her thick brown hair tied up in a bun. She placed her hands on her waist, her turquoise eyes wide.
    “What happened? I tried to call you.”
    “Sorry. My phone battery died.” I finished taking off my shoes and stood up straight. At five-seven, I was two inches taller than my mother.
    “How come you’re almost an hour late?”
    “I got delayed on the bus journey home.” I reached into my bag for her letter and handed it to her. She took it from me and eyed it briefly before looking back at me. I could see the question behind her eyes, but I knew she’d wait until my sisters had gone to