“I’m Nora,” I added, and also shared my last name. I introduced my twins, leaning them over so Arthur could see them. He repeated my name once, as if he didn’t want to forget it.

“Nora.”

I walked home that night instead of taking the bus, three miles in the rain, holding my girls close so they wouldn’t get wet.

By the time I got to my apartment, my shoes were soaked, and my hands were numb.

He didn’t want to forget it.

I remember standing there, staring at my empty wallet.

Thinking I was stupid.

That I had made a mistake.

And that I couldn’t afford kindness.

***

The next few years weren’t easy.

I worked afternoons at a diner and nights at the library. I slept whenever the girls did, which wasn’t much.

There was a woman in my building, Mrs. Greene, who changed everything.

“You leave those babies with me when you’ve got a shift,” she told me one afternoon.

I had made a mistake.

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