Unu sighed, then looked at Ella, his eyes confused and sad.
“We’ll think about Casey later, sorry,” Ella said slowly. “But right now, we have to get you to bed. Tomorrow we’ll look into getting help for you.” She glanced at David.
“There’s a lot of things we can do about gambling,” David said. There were programs for addiction that the inmates he’d taught had gone to in the city when they got out. He would call some people he knew.
“I have a list of meetings for Gamblers Anonymous. But it’s in my apartment.” Unu chuckled, remembering the green sheet of paper he’d saved from the glove compartment before giving up his car. “The landlord will get it. Like everything else in the place.” He shook his head in disbelief. It was all gone, he realized. Everything.
“Can’t we get your things back?” she asked.
Unu didn’t say anything. He didn’t have all the back rent, penalties, and lawyer’s fees—the things described in the eviction notice. More than that, he didn’t have the stamina to claim them.
“How much is owed?” David asked, surprised to hear the sound of his own voice.
“No. I don’t want anyone to bail me out. Everything is gone. I did this.”
Ella was sure that Unu would not change his mind.
“I’ll take you to the meeting tomorrow. We’ll find another schedule,” Ella said. David nodded encouragingly.
“I don’t want to be like this, Ella,” Unu said. “I don’t want to be a loser.”
Ella winced, hearing Ted’s word. “There are no winners or losers, Unu. That’s all. . .” She twisted her mouth a little before saying, “That’s just bullshit.”
Unu had to laugh, never having heard Ella swear before.
She took his hands into hers. “May I pray with you? I mean, can we try?”
She had never done this either.
“Come, David,” she said, and he moved toward them. The three of them held hands.
Ella tried to think of what she’d say. Speaking was not something she wanted to do, but she was scared for Unu, and she didn’t know what else might help.
“Dear God. . .” She took a breath, her eyes shut tight. “Please let Unu feel Your love. Please never let him go. In Him we pray, amen.”
Unu opened his eyes and smiled at his cousin. David kissed Ella on the cheek.
“I am sorry, Ella. To bring this to you,” Unu said, choking up, and he looked at David, feeling ashamed about everything.
“Oh, Unu. Don’t you know? There’s nothing you could ever do that would—” She tightened her grasp of his hands.
“You will figure out what to do,” David said. “You have friends.”
“Yes,” Ella chimed in. She squeezed his hand again before running upstairs to make up the guest room.
Casey phoned the church office from her desk at Kearn Davis. She identified herself as Leah Han’s daughter, saying that she wanted to ask the choir director for advice about some choral recordings for her mother. A surprise to cheer her up. “My mom loves hymns, you know.”
Of course, Mrs. Kong, the church secretary, knew that Deaconess Cho had suffered a miscarriage. The congregation had prayed for her during Wednesday Night Alive services. How nice of the daughter to get a present for her mother.
“And if I could have his address, I can send him a thank-you note for his help.”
Mrs. Kong took the time to spell out the choir director’s street address in Brooklyn and read out loud his home phone number twice.
“I’m sure the professor will want to know how your mother is doing.”
“Yes. I think so.” Casey thanked Mrs. Kong.
The church secretary wished her mother a blessed recovery.
14 CROWN
THE COPIERS SHUT OFF AUTOMATICALLY AT NIGHT, so Casey had to turn one back on to make two copies of her memo for Karyn and Larry. Anticipating that it would take a few minutes to start up again, she’d brought along the day’s paper. It was two in the morning, and she was at the office waiting for Xerox to cooperate. If she weren’t so tired, she’d find it funny that a copy machine by its design got a chance to rest but that interns didn’t. Her life was privileged, absurd, or shit, depending on how you looked at it, but this was the final week of the Kearn Davis banking summer intern program. The offer decisions would come out on Friday. Till then, Casey would do whatever Karyn and Larry wanted her to do.
Two of her office mates had already finished the crossword expertly, so Casey flipped to the movie section for new releases. In the middle of the right-hand column of the arts section, there was a black-bordered memorial notice from Icarus Publishers: “Joseph McReed, a true lover of books. 1913–1997. You are missed already.”