Poor Black Teen Carried a Sick Old Man's Groceries Home — He Had No Idea Who the Man Was
Chapter 17
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Jamal considered that. Arthur had looked lonely, standing in the rain, holding six grocery bags by himself, like nobody was coming, like nobody ever came.Gloria nodded slowly. "Maybe you helped more than you realize."Jamal looked toward the darkening city, toward Oakwood Lane somewhere beyond the skyline, toward a man he barely knew. A strange feeling settled inside him, like his life had somehow brushed against something important, something unfinished. He didn't know why, but he couldn't shake the feeling.Outside, clouds gathered again over Chicago. And far across the city, Richard Caine sat alone in his office, staring at a growing stack of corporate requests. For the first time in years, he felt afraid, because someone at Whitmore Holdings had started pulling on a thread, and if they kept pulling long enough, everything he had spent years hiding would eventually come loose.Richard Caine sat motionless in his office. Outside his window, evening settled over West Marlo Towers. A broken streetlight flickered in the parking lot. The elevator remained dead—the same elevator residents had complained about for months, the same elevator corporate was suddenly asking questions about.Richard loosened his tie. For the first time in years, he felt the ground shifting beneath him. His phone buzzed: another email from Whitmore Holdings, another request, another audit, another reminder that someone important was paying attention. He stared at the screen, then slowly deleted three maintenance files from his desktop. Not enough; he knew it wasn't enough. But panic made people do foolish things, and Richard Caine was beginning to panic.Across the city, Jamal Carter had no idea any of this was happening. He sat beside Gloria's chair, watching an old game show play quietly on television. For a little while, life felt normal. The apartment was small, the furniture was worn, the refrigerator was nearly empty, but Gloria was smiling. And that was enough—until she suddenly pressed a hand against her chest.The smile vanished. Jamal sat upright. "Grandma?""I'm okay."But she wasn't. Her breathing had changed. The color had drained from her face; a thin layer of sweat appeared across her forehead.Jamal immediately knelt beside her. "Grandma."She tried to answer; another sharp breath interrupted her. Fear shot through him—the kind of fear that arrives instantly, the kind that makes the world narrow."I'm calling an ambulance.""No." Her voice barely rose above a whisper. "We can't afford—""I don't care."Another breath. Another pause. Another look that terrified him.Jamal grabbed his phone, his hands shaking.