a car parked next to the garage, and Bob walked her to her car and she thanked him again.
“Anytime you want to quit,” he said gently, “you can. You're not signing in blood here,” he reminded her, which made it a little less scary for her. She had just made a hell of a commitment, and she couldn't even imagine what people would say if she told them. She wasn't sure she would. For now.
“Thanks for the out.”
“Anything you do, for however long you do it, is valid and appreciated. We all do it for as long as we can. And when we can't, then that's okay too. Take it easy, Opie,” he said, as she got into her car. “See you next week.”
“Goodnight, Bob,” she said gently, finally starting to feel tired. She was coming down from the high of the night, and wondered how she'd feel about it in the morning. “Thanks again…”
He waved, put his head down, and walked down the street to his truck. And as he did, she realized with a feeling of elation that she was one of them now. She was a cowboy. Just like them. Wow!
17
WHEN OPHÉLIE WENT BACK TO HER HOUSE LATE THAT night, she looked around as though seeing it for the first time. The luxury, the comforts, the colors, the warmth, the food in the refrigerator, her bathtub, and the hot water as she got in it. It all seemed infinitely precious suddenly, as she lay there soaking for nearly an hour, thinking back on what she'd seen, what she had done, what she had just committed to. She had never felt so fortunate in her life, or so unafraid. In confronting what she had feared most, her own mortality on the streets, other things no longer seemed as menacing anymore. Like the ghosts in her head, her guilt over urging Chad to go with Ted, and even her seemingly bottomless grief. If she could confront the dangers on the street, and survive them, the rest seemed so much easier to deal with. And as she got into bed next to Pip, who had opted to sleep in her mother's bed again that night, she had never in her life been as grateful for her child, and the life they shared. She went to sleep with her arms around her daughter, giving silent thanks, and woke with a start when she heard the alarm. For a minute, she couldn't even remember where she was. She had been dreaming of the streets and the people she'd seen there. She knew she'd remember those faces for the rest of her life.
“What time is it?” she asked, turning off the alarm and dropping her head back on her pillow next to Pip's.
“Eight o'clock. I have a game at nine, Mom.”
“Oh… okay …” It reminded her that she still had a life. With Pip. And that maybe what she had done the night before was more than a little crazy. What would happen to Pip if she got hurt? Yet it no longer seemed as likely. The team seemed very efficient, and as best they could, they took no obvious risks. The risks were inherent on the streets, but they were sensible people who knew what they were doing. But it was still more than a little scary anyway. She had a responsibility to Pip, which she was deeply sensitive to.
She was still thinking about it when she got up and dressed, and went downstairs to make breakfast for Pip.
“How was last night, Mom? What did you do?”
“Some pretty interesting stuff. I worked with the outreach team on the streets.” She told Pip a modified version of what she'd done.
“Is it dangerous?” Pip looked concerned, and then finished her orange juice, and dug into her scrambled eggs.
“To some extent.” Ophélie didn't want to lie to her. “But the people who do it are very careful, and they know what they're doing. I didn't see anyone dangerous out there last night. But things do happen on the street.” She couldn't deny the risk to her.
“Are you going to do it again?” Pip looked concerned.
“I'd like to. What do you think?”
“Did you like doing it?” she asked sensibly.
“Yes, a lot. I loved it. Those people need so much help.”
“Then do it, Mom. Just be careful. I don't want you to get hurt.”
“Neither do I. Maybe I'll just try it a couple more times, and see how it feels. If it looks too risky after a