This was going to be a hellacious few weeks. Even though he got to enjoy the view of his enticing neighbor's backside, it didn't quite make up for ordeals like these.
Chapter Seven
Kyla fumbled in her purse for her apartment key as she moved down the sidewalk toward the apartment building. Before she could look up, her legs tangled, and she felt herself falling forward as she heard someone let out an oof.
To her horror, Kyla found herself on the cold cement, on top of a small boy. Rolling quickly off him, she sat up and immediately reached out.
"Are you okay? I am so sorry," she gasped as her hands ran over his arms and legs.
"I'm fine," he said, though his wheezing told her that he'd had the breath knocked out of him. "My grandma needs help, though," he said, almost pleading, his eyes desperate.
"Where is she? What's the matter?" Kyla was instantly panicked. She didn't handle emergencies very well.
"This way." The boy grabbed her hand and began to pull her down the sidewalk. Kyla held his little hand and had to rush to keep pace with him as he moved. When they reached the bus stop halfway down the block, she found a woman sitting on the bench with a couple of plastic grocery sacks beside her and her shoulders hunched down low.
Kyla bent down to the woman, worried about what she would find. "Ma'am, are you okay?"
The woman looked up, her brow wrinkled, her gray eyes tired, and her hands showing clear signs of rheumatoid arthritis. "Oh, sweetie, I'm just fine. I did some shopping and I'm trying to get up the energy to carry the bags inside. Billy here was obviously alarmed - he's such a good boy! - and he took off to find help before I could call him back. Thank you for bringing him to me. I worry when he wanders. He's only five years old."
"Let me help you with the bags. Billy found me and said you needed assistance."
"Oh, that's not your job, doll. I can do it. It just takes me a little bit longer these days." The woman spoke with determination, though her voice sounded so exhausted.
"I'd be hurt if you didn't let me help," Kyla told her, and she grabbed both bags with one hand, though they were definitely heavy. She then held out the other hand to help the woman up.
"You're too kind. I used to move around a lot easier, but old age, arthritis, and creaky bones are making it more difficult these days," she said with a small laugh. "When they say seventy-five is the new fifty-five, they're lying - at least when it comes to some of us."
"I have days like that myself," Kyla replied as she stood next to the woman and they began a slow walk back to the apartment building.
"I'm Vivian, by the way. What's your name?"
"I'm Kyla. I met your grandson right outside my apartment building. Do you and Billy live in the apartments on this street?"
"Yes. I've been here for years, but my little boy just came to live with me not too long ago."
Kyla wanted to ask how the woman had ended up with her grandson, but she'd heard the pain in Vivian's voice, and she could tell the story wouldn't be a pleasant one. In any case, she didn't want to be intrusive.
"I'm surprised I haven't run into you before now," Kyla said as they made it to the building and she pushed open the slow-groaning doors.
"I don't get out as much as I used to. I have someone who shops for me once a week, but Billy needed a few things, and the shopper won't come back for three more days, so we had no choice but to go to the store."
"Which apartment do you live in? Ground floor?" Kyla hoped so, since the elevators didn't work and she couldn't imagine that Vivian would able to climb the stairs without major effort.
"Yes, thankfully. I'm in one-sixteen."
"We're practically neighbors. I'm in one-twelve," Kyla said.
"I hope you'll come in for a cup of tea so I can thank you properly for helping me," Vivian said as she pulled out a key and inserted it in the lock of her door.
"I would love to," Kyla told her.
They stepped inside, and Kyla was impressed with the woman's small apartment. It was spotless, and pictures filled the walls and the end tables by the couch. Holding pride of place in the center of the living room wall was a large framed picture featuring a smiling Billy and what looked like his parents. She again wondered why he was living with his grandmother now, but she couldn't bear to ask.
"Oh, Billy, remember to pick up your toys, sweetie," Vivian said as she nearly tripped over a bright little fire engine.
Was tripping the name of the game in this place?
"I'm sorry, Grandma," Billy said, quickly grabbing the truck before he took it to what looked like his toy box.
"It's okay. I just don't want to fall over," Vivian told him before moving to the kitchen and filling her teakettle with water and setting it on the stove, then taking two cups down.