I wondered if he recognized my name, or my face from the pictures in the newspaper. If he did, he didn’t mention it. “I’ve been dirty, and I don’t really care how anyone smells. I know what it’s like to be hungry and thirsty, and without shelter. I have plenty of time and I’d like to spend some of it here.”

Henry smiled. “Thank you. We’d like that.”

I started arriving at the shelter around 10:00 a.m. every day, joining the other volunteers in preparing and serving lunch. Henry encouraged me to bring Bo.

“Most of the kids here love animals. Not many of them have ever had a pet.”

The younger children who weren’t in school yet spent hours playing with Bo. He never growled when they stroked his fur a little too rough or tried to ride him like a pony. After lunch, I read to the kids. Their exhausted and stressed-out mothers warmed to me as I held their toddlers and babies on my lap. In the late afternoon, the school-aged kids returned, and I helped them with their homework, insisting they complete it before we played any of the board games I bought at Target.

Leo could usually be found at my side, eager to share everything that happened at school. His enthusiasm for kindergarten didn’t surprise me; most kids loved a secure classroom environment, the homeless even more so. Many of them didn’t own books or art supplies and they loved learning songs in music class and running around on the playground at recess.

“I’m learning how to read, Miss Anna!”

“I’m so happy that you’re excited about reading, Leo.” I hugged him. “That’s wonderful.”

He smiled so brightly I thought he would burst, but then his expression turned serious.

“I’m gonna learn real good, Miss Anna. Then I’m gonna teach my dad.”

Dean Lewis, Leo’s dad, was twenty-eight, had been out of work for almost a year, and was one of only two single dads living at the shelter. I sat down next to him after dinner. He eyed me warily. “Hi, Dean.”

He nodded. “Miss Anna.”

“How’s the job search going?”

“I haven’t found one yet.”

“What kind of work did you do before?”

“Line cook. I was at the same restaurant for seven years. Started out washin’ dishes and worked my way up.”

“What happened?”

“Owner fell on hard times. Had to sell. The new boss fired us all.”

We watched Leo play a spirited game of tag with two other children. “Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I might be able to help you.”

It turned out that Dean could read a little bit. He’d memorized common words – and the entire menu at the diner where he worked – but he struggled to fill out job applications and he’d never filed for unemployment after losing his job because he couldn’t decipher the forms. A friend had helped him fill out an application at an Italian restaurant, but they fired him after three days because he couldn’t read the orders.

“Are you dyslexic?’ I asked him.

“What’s that mean?”

“The letters don’t seem like they’re in the right order.”

“No. They’re fine. I just can’t read ’em.”

“Did you graduate high school?”

He shook his head. “Ninth grade.”

“Where’s Leo’s mom?”

“No clue. She was twenty when he was born, and when he turned one, she said she couldn’t handle being a mom anymore, not that she ever acted like one. We couldn’t afford cable, but we had an old T.V. and VCR and she’d watch movies all day long. I’d come home from the restaurant and Leo would be screaming and crying, his diaper soakin’ wet, or worse. She took off one day and never came back. I had to find daycare and we already lived paycheck to paycheck. Once I lost my job, it didn’t take long to fall behind on the rent.” Dean looked down at his feet. “Leo deserves better.”

“I think Leo’s pretty lucky,” I said.

“How can you say that?”

“Because at least one of his parents cares. That’s more than some kids get.”

For the next two months, I worked with Dean every day, from the time lunch ended, until the time Leo and the other kids came home from school. Using phonics workbooks, I taught him the various combinations of letters, and soon I had him reading Goodnight Moon and BrownBear, Brown Bear, What do You See? to the toddlers. He was often frustrated, but I pushed him hard, building his confidence by praising him whenever he mastered a challenging lesson.

When I returned home from the shelter after serving dinner, I went for a long run. September turned to October, and I added more layers and kept going. One day in November, Bo and I stopped to get the mail. I pulled out a few bills and a magazine and there it was. A regular sized envelope with T.J.’s name and address handwritten in the upper left-hand corner.

I hurried upstairs and unlocked the door to my apartment, unclipping Bo from his leash. When I opened it and read what was inside, I started crying.

***

“Open the goddamned door, Anna. I know you’re in there,” Sarah yelled.

I was lying on the couch staring at the ceiling. The last twenty-four hours worth of Sarah’s voice mails and texts had gone unanswered, and it was only a matter of time before she showed up at my apartment.

I opened the door. Sarah charged into the apartment, but I sidestepped her and went back to the couch.

“Well at least I know you’re alive,” she said, standing over me. She took in my appearance, her eyes flicking from my messy hair down to my wrinkled pajamas. “You look like hell. Have you even showered today? Or yesterday?”

“Oh, Sarah, I can go a lot longer than that without a shower.” I pulled a fleece blanket over my legs and Bo rested his head on my lap.

“When’s the last time you went to the shelter?”

“A few days ago,” I mumbled. “I told Henry I was sick.”

Sarah sat down on the couch. “Anna, talk to me. What happened?”

I went into the kitchen and returned with an envelope. Handing it to Sarah I said, “I got this in the mail the other day. It’s from T.J.”

She opened it and pulled out a business card from a sperm bank. Under the phone number it said, I made arrangements.

“I don’t understand,” Sarah said.

“Look on the back.”

She flipped it over. On the back, he’d scrawled in case you never find him.

”Oh Anna,” Sarah said. She pulled me into her arms and held me while I cried.

Sarah convinced me to take a shower while she took care of dinner. I padded back into the living room with my wet hair combed back, wearing a clean pair of flannel pajama pants and a sweatshirt.

“Don’t you feel better now?” Sarah asked.

“Yes.” I sat down on the couch and pulled on thick socks. Sarah handed me a glass of red wine.

“I ordered Chinese,” she said. “It should be here any minute.”

“Okay. Thanks.” I took a sip of wine and set my glass on the table.

She sat down beside me. “That was quite an offer T.J. made.”

“Yes.” Tears welled up in my eyes again and spilled onto my cheeks. I wiped them away with the back of my hand. “But there’s no way I could ever hold a baby in my arms that had his eyes, or his smile, if I couldn’t have him, too.” I picked up my glass and took another drink of my wine. “John would never have done something so selfless.”

Sarah wiped a tear I’d missed. “That’s because John was kind of an asshole.”

“I’ll go back to the shelter in the morning. I just had a rough patch.”

“It’s okay. It happens.”

“I never loved John the way I loved T.J.”

“I know.”

***

I dragged a Christmas tree up the stairs and shoved it through the doorway of my apartment. When I finished decorating it, my first tree in four years sparkled under twinkling lights and shiny ornaments. Bo and I spent hours lying in front of it, listening to Christmas music.