“You don’t have to wash my windshield,” she told him. “That seems like too much to ask.”
“I don’t mind,” he said.
He had parked his SUV close, right at the other side of the pump, so he could keep an eye on his two blonde girls in the backseat. He looked over every few seconds. Meanwhile the pump ran without him, filling her tank.
“I hope you don’t mind, though,” he said. “I did call the police. While I was driving over. They’ll meet us back at the spot where it happened. I just thought it was important. You know? What if he does this to somebody else? And maybe somebody gets hurt next time? Besides, maybe you don’t need to’ve seen him. They have security cameras.”
“Unfortunately my van was blocking the spot where it happened. I’ll bet anything he did that on purpose.”
“But maybe one of the other cameras picked it up.”
Oh, Bea thought. Right. Maybe so. Maybe one of the other, farther-off cameras had a view of the scene. That could be a problem.
She looked into his eyes, and he looked back. He seemed curious, as if unsure what he would find there, or what he was looking for. Then he smiled in a way that looked reassuring. Bea felt bad because he was being so kind. But, she reminded herself, it’s not like he would suddenly wake up in the middle of the night and know he’d been scammed. He felt good about what he was doing. He was helping an old woman mugging victim—he thought—and that was a good thing for him. And he could afford the gas. He’d said so himself.
Still, Bea made a decision while looking into those eyes. Just in that split second. She would have to think of a different scheme. No more helpless old woman pretending to be hurt, because that only brought out the best in people. And who wants to take someone for money while they’re showing you their better nature?
No, she would just have to take people who deserved taking. She didn’t figure they would be hard to find.
“I guess I see your point about the police,” she said. “But one thing I insist on. You’ve done enough. You and your girls go home now. I can wait in the parking lot in my van with the doors locked. I’ll be fine. I refuse to impose on you for one more thing.”
“I guess that would be okay. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” she said.
He topped off her tank and replaced the pump nozzle, and waved. She thanked him, and waved in return. And he drove away. And she drove away.
And Bea kept driving until she got all the way to Santa Barbara.
Bea woke in the morning, struggled out of her easy chair, and pulled back the curtains. She was parked on the street at the Santa Barbara waterfront. On her right, waves washed up onto a white sandy beach. Between her van and the ocean ran a strip of narrow park with a bike lane. Now and then joggers or roller skaters breezed by, usually in pairs.
Bea had stopped here because it was a close walk to the pier, and she knew from ancient prior experience that there were public restrooms.
She climbed down from the van and onto the street. As she made her way to the sidewalk, she had to step over a storm drain at the curb.
That was the moment a big idea was born.
Bea stalled there for a minute or two, standing right over the storm drain. Waiting. Waiting for a person to come by with one of those absurdly expensive phones. She couldn’t imagine it would take long.
It’s interesting, she thought. The same brain that couldn’t grasp the concept of outstanding checks just had a clever idea. She didn’t think it out expressly, in words, but the pattern—the fact that her brain grasped what it wanted and dropped what it didn’t want—was hard to miss.
While she waited, she noticed how different everything felt. The sun was strong on her shoulders and scalp, and the breeze seemed to blow right through her and leave her feeling clean. She did not feel at the mercy of the world. She did not feel afraid. Or small. Or out of options. She tried to remember if she had ever felt this way before, but nothing came to mind.
Two young mothers came jogging down the bike lane together, pushing strollers. The taller of the two was staring at one of those infernal devices. Not looking where she was going at all.
“Excuse me,” Bea called.
They stopped.
“Excuse me. May I ask a favor of you? My van is broken down and I need to call the repair shop. My usual man. You know. He’ll come out and give me a tow.”
The woman just stood there for a few seconds. Both women just stood.
“It’ll only take a second. It’s a local call.”
The woman with the phone looked down at it. Stared at it almost longingly. As if that were her child in her hand, and the passenger in the stroller only an afterthought. As if it pained her to think of parting with it for a few seconds.
Then she walked closer and held the phone out to Bea.
Bea had no idea how to use such a contraption, of course. But it hardly mattered. She looked down at it, then turned away, shading her eyes, as if to find a direction that would produce less glare on the screen. She slipped the phone into the inside pocket of her jacket. Then she reached down suddenly as if trying to catch a falling object.
“Oh no!” she cried, turning back. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drop it.”
She held up her hands to show how empty they were.
“Did it break?” the woman asked, running back to Bea now, her voice shrieky.
“Well, I don’t know. I can’t even see it. It went down there.”
Bea pointed. Down. She and the woman stood a moment, staring into the seemingly endless dark abyss of the storm drain.
“That was a seven-hundred-dollar iPhone 6!” the woman squeaked. “That was almost brand new!”
Bea thanked the woman, silently, in the privacy of her head, for being someone she didn’t mind taking.
“I’m so sorry. I feel just awful. I’d pay you for it if I could. But I don’t have that kind of money. I don’t know what to do.”
Bea watched the woman’s face in the intervening silence. It was reddening. To an alarming degree. And still nothing was being said. And yes, Bea was afraid. Of course she was. Who wouldn’t be? But the fear made her feel exhilarated. It made her feel alive.
All her life Bea had felt fear, especially fear of the lack that seemed to hide around every corner, and all her life she’d been ruled by it. But now she had a new secret weapon: nothing to lose. And that was a freedom the likes of which Bea had never known.
A few seconds later the woman’s friend came, took her by the shoulder, and led her back to the bike path, while they shared clipped words together.
“But she—”
“There’s nothing you can do, Bev. It was an accident.”
“But it was my brand-new—”
“She doesn’t have money. She can’t pay you for it. Come on. Let’s just go.”