The Memory Thief Read Online Free Page A

got.”
    Sissy unlocked Number Six. Hannah walked inside, turned on the lamp, and looked around. Brown plaid curtains, various shades
     of mud squared against one another, hung heavy over the one window. There was one bed, standard size, with more brown plaid
     covering it. Next to the bed was a brass lamp with an embroidered shade, little purple violets twirling across it. It seemed
     out of place among all that brown plaid, more like something Mother would enjoy making than a motel lamp. A mirror and dresser
     stood opposite the bed. There was no TV or phone. Instead a card invited guests to a central lobby, across from the front
     desk, to watch TV or make local calls. There was another card, this one framed on the wall nearest the bathroom.
    Welcome to Cora’s Steampot Motel, where the rooms are clean and supper is free. This is our home. And for a night or two,
     it is yours as well.
A small scripture was printed at the bottom:
I was a stranger and you welcomed me… Matthew 25:35.
    Hannah jerked her head away, like she did when she saw nasty words carved into bathroom stalls. She was used to being around
     people that didn’t know any scripture at all. But she had never been around someone that used it casually, like in a motel
     greeting, almost as if the words were their own. Scripture was holy, only spoken in church and whispered in prayer. Hannah
     was amazed that something holy could ever be placed next to common words like
Steampot Motel
. She wondered if that could ever be right. She wished she could ask Mother.
    Hannah was overly generous with the bleach, pouring it until she had to use nearly a whole roll of paper towels to dry the
     floor. She had never cleaned a bathroom before. Never seen Mother clean one, either. That was Inez’s job.
    Inez was the old lady that Mother hired to clean their house every day. It was a woman’s place to clean her home, Mother admitted,
     and she insisted on that. But with her constant volunteering, and the sewing that always needed to be done for the shelters,
     she gladly hired daily help. Nobody but Inez had ever cleaned any of the four bathrooms in their beautiful brick home.
    Inez was an eighty-year-old widow. She didn’t have any retirement, or children to care for her. Mother said letting her tidy
     the house and scrub bathrooms was a gift to her. “It allows her freedom,” Mother said. “She can still earn her own living.”
    Hannah knelt and inspected the space behind the toilet and the wall, looking for hidden filth. She thought again of Inez,
     and what she must think of them. Making mess after mess and never cleaning it themselves. Of course Mother didn’t lie; Inez’s
     job meant freedom. But as Hannah reached her hand to wipe away scum, she knew Inez’s job meant something more.
Humble
was the nice word.
Desperate
the true one.
    Cora stood in the doorway. “Smells good and bleach-y. The bedroom’s left, but Sissy can show you later how we like it. I’ve
     saved you a bucket; you can eat it and then git home quick. It ain’t safe to ride that bike in the dark.”
    After eating, Hannah slipped off the T-shirt and put her blouse back on.
    “Keep it,” Sissy said, when she saw Hannah hang the T-shirt by the aprons in the kitchen. “You’ll need to wash it up before
     next shift.”
    Hannah held the shirt in her hand, unsure of what to do.
    “I’ll git it clean,” Cora said. “Don’t bother your momma with extra
     washin’. I gotta run that load of towels from Number Six through anyway. Be careful goin’ home. Traffic picks up this time
     of day.”
    But it wasn’t traffic that worried Hannah as she pedaled home. The sun was beginning to set, and it occurred to her how long
     she had been gone. She’d never spent the entire day away from home before. As she walked into the shack, it didn’t surprise
     her to see Mother frown.
    “Where have you been? Your father is out looking for you. I was against that bike from the beginning, and now I see