Is there any message with this?
I put it all on that paper, the girl said.
I’ll give it to her when she comes in. Thank you.
As soon as the girl was gone the woman unfolded the paper and read it thoroughly.
The couple stepped forward. We’re suppose to see Rose Tyler now, the man said. She got an appointment with us.
The woman behind the window looked up. Mrs. Tyler is with another client at the moment.
She was suppose to see us at ten-thirty.
If you’d care to have a seat I’ll tell her you’re here.
He looked at the clock on the wall beyond the glass. The appointment was ten minutes ago, he said.
I understand that. I’ll tell her you’re waiting.
They looked at the woman as if expecting her to say something else and she looked steadily back at them.
Tell her Luther Wallace and Betty June Wallace is here, he said.
I know who you are, the woman said. Take a seat, please.
They moved away from the counter and sat down in chairs against the wall without speaking. Beside them were boxes of plastic toys and a little table with books and an open carton of crayon stubs and broken pencils. No one else was in the room. After a while Luther Wallace removed a jackknife from his pocket and began to scrape at a wart on the back of his hand, wiping the knife blade on the sole of his shoe and breathing heavily, beginning to sweat in the overheated room. Beside him Betty sat looking at the far wall. She appeared to be thinking about something that made her sad, something she could never forget in this world, as if she were imprisoned by the thought of whatever that was. She held a shiny black purse on her lap. She was a large woman not yet forty, with a pockmarked face and limp brown hair, and every minute or two she drew the hem of her loose dress modestly over her knees.
An old man came out from a door behind them and limped across the room with his metal cane. He pushed the door open and went out into the hall. Then the caseworker, Rose Tyler, stepped into the waiting room. She was a short square dark-haired woman in a bright dress. Betty, she said. Luther. Do you want to come back?
We just been sitting here waiting, Luther said. That’s all we been doing.
I know. I’m ready to talk to you now.
They stood up and followed her down the hall and entered one of the little windowless interview rooms and sat down at a square table. Betty arranged the skirt of her dress as Rose Tyler closed the door and seated herself across from them. She set a file on the table and opened it and turned through the pages, reading each one rapidly, and at last looked up. So, she said. How have you been this month? Is everything going the way you want it to?
Oh, we been doing pretty good, Luther said. I guess we don’t have to complain. Do we, dear.
I still got this pain in my stomach. Betty laid a hand gently over her dress as if something was very tender there. I don’t hardly sleep at night, she said.
Did you see the doctor like we talked about? We made an appointment for you to see him.
I went to him. But he didn’t do me no good.
He give her a bottle of pills, Luther said. She been taking them.
Betty looked at him. But they don’t do me no good. I still hurt all the time.
What are they? Rose said.
I give the doctor’s slip to the man at the counter and he filled it out. I got them at home on the shelf.
And you don’t remember what they are?
She looked around the bare room. I don’t remember right now, she said.
Well, they come in a little brown bottle, Luther said. I tell her she got to take one every day.
You do need to take them regularly. They won’t help you unless you do.
I been, she said.
Yes. Well, let’s see how you feel when you come in next month.
They better start doing something pretty soon, Betty said. I can’t take much more of this.