Danny scratched at his gray beard. He held his breath, then let out a sigh. His mother was finally asleep, snoring softly and curled small in her bed. He was happy to see her peaceful, but he knew it wouldn’t last.

It was only a matter of time now. He put his pride aside and made the call. It was only right.

***

Days later, a man with shaggy hair drove up the twisted mountain parkway toward Millard’s Mobile Home Community. Zigzagging through the single-lane, cliff-side roadway was tedious, but the sharp curves gave him something to focus on. This reunion was a reluctant one for him, but long overdue. Thoughts of her seeped into him as he neared his exit.

He crept up more narrow, mountain streets until eventually he came to Millard’s entrance. As soon as he turned in, he saw the mobile homes it was named for. Those near the entrance were evenly distributed; equidistant apart with near-identical plots of land. As he continued through the gravel streets, he saw that other trailers were stacked more crudely, one hiding behind another, too close together or at awkward angles. Some had attached patio rooms. Some had roofed driveways. He came to a split in the road that wrapped around a rectangular field. On one side, a young girl and her father played soccer. On the other, a group of men stacked logs. He saw others too, enjoying the spring air tinged with pollen; a runner, a man mowing his proud patch of lawn, a group of laughing kids, bags clapping against their backs.

He soon came to his destination: a dead end, with one trailer at its terminus. It was separated from the others by tall grass and overgrown hedges. The home had solid red paneling, the color of brick. Unlike the others, it stood wide-side facing the street, its front door centered. Three steps and a cobblestone path connected it to the cul-de-sac, making it look as though this dead-end street, and all the others here, led to its entrance. Pulling up to it, the man thought it looked like a mansion on a hill.

As he exited the car with a briefcase in hand, he heard the crash of a door, followed by a wild screech. He whipped his head toward the noise. In the doorway of the brick-red trailer stood a nightmarish figure with pale blue skin. She wore a flowy nightgown and wielded a cane. With its support, she trotted down the front steps, like some three-legged beast.

It was Mariena. She was tiny, the bare frame of the woman he knew. Herfreakish blue skin sagged like drapery, clinging to her bones. Her white hair was wispy and long; so thinned that her scalp showed. The sight of her froze him. But when she let out another screech upon reaching the cobblestone, he acted. He scanned the other trailers first, seeing if anyone else had taken notice of the wailing blue woman. When he saw that they were alone, he rushed to her.

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