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time.”
                  Michelle couldn’t help but laugh, right in the middle of another bout of crying. The worst feeling was thinking about what could have happened, now that she had the luxury of knowing it was over. She could still see Binh laying on the ground, curled tightly trying to protect himself.  
                  The next morning, there was only one thing to do. She rallied the troops—well, the roommates—and went to Daniel’s apartment to get the few items she’d left there, a jacket, a DVD, stuff like that. He was still down at the police station, luckily, but she used the extra key he kept above the doorframe to let herself in. Michelle snagged anything that would have made her ever have to come back here then closed the door firmly on Daniel.
                  Next stop, The Painted Phan to beg for her job back. Michelle had even been a little bit optimistic that in the bright light of day, the Phans would be willing to overlook the fact that her boyfriend was the one who’d assaulted their son, especially since she was innocent of the entire mess and practically a victim herself. The angry bruise on her face demonstrated that. But when she pulled on the heavy wooden door and stepped into the entryway, her heart sank. The podium where she greeted customers and got their menus was gone, shoved off in the corner with a potted plant resting on top of it. Nothing says permanent like a potted plant.
                  Even with her newly crushed spirits, the least she could do was check on Binh. She was appalled to see him running the vacuum in between the empty tables, one arm cradled against his side and a row of black-threaded stitches running from his hairline to the outer edge of his eyebrow. Michelle raced over and gestured to him since he couldn’t hear her over the vacuum cleaner. She pulled out a chair and pointed to it, then took the handle of the vacuum from him.
                  She smiled when he sank into a chair, exhausted and wincing, letting her take over the floor. So what if she didn’t work here anymore? This was the least she could do. Binh leaned his aching head on his one good arm, propping his elbow on a nearby table and resting his forehead on his hand. Michelle pulled chairs back from each table to get the crumbs underneath each one, carefully pulling the oversized cord so it didn’t snag on the chair legs. Mrs. Phan’s worried face appeared in the small, square window of the swinging kitchen door, frowning at the girl who just wouldn’t take the hint.
                  Mrs. Phan raced from the kitchen and pulled the vacuum cord out of the wall, waiting for the loud whirring sound to die down before speaking.
                  “Michelle? Why you here?” she asked not too unkindly, especially after her eyes travelled the damage Daniel had done to Michelle’s face as well. She put an arm around her son’s shoulders, looking up at Michelle with half-accusation, half-confusion. “My husband said you no can be here. So why you cleaning?”
                  “I just feel really bad, Mrs. Phan. You’re completely right. This is my fault. If not for me, Binh wouldn’t be hurt. I just came in to check on him and this is the least I could do.” She smiled and plugged the cord back in the wall, leaving mother and son watching her in surprise.
                  Mrs. Phan shook her head before standing up and turning off the vacuum cleaner. She pulled Michelle into an awkward hug, made all the harder by the older woman’s four-and-a-half foot tall stature. She patted Michelle lovingly on the back for a moment before taking her by both shoulders and looking up at her tearfully.
                  “No! This not your fault! He’s a bad man. You did nothing. No man ever supposed to hit girl or young boy. You did nothing wrong!” She pulled Michelle to her one last time and