In the intense still­ness, the deliv­ery­man seemed to delib­er­ate over what to do about the baby mice he had dis­cov­ered nest­ing amongst his Bibles. His expres­sion sug­gest­ed options of poi­son or drown­ing, or per­haps even feed­ing us to a cat. He removed his wilt­ed car­na­tion and loos­ened his pink neck­tie, reveal­ing rolled-up sleeves and a gaunt chest beneath his fad­ed over­alls. As he crossed his arms, two names appeared on his arms: **Car­lene**, inscribed above a black rose, and **Rhon­da**, beneath a heart marked with “Mom”.

As I observed, the let­ters ani­mat­ed them­selves, mor­ph­ing into the like­ness­es of the two bick­er­ing women. Car­lene argued that Rhon­da was to blame for Lester’s per­ceived soft­ness, claim­ing he lacked fight. Rhon­da retal­i­at­ed by blam­ing Lester’s weak father and claimed Car­lene demand­ed every pen­ny he earned from deliv­er­ing Bibles, lim­it­ing his chances to suc­ceed. This gen­er­at­ed a sur­re­al atmos­phere, rem­i­nis­cent of com­ic strips come alive, con­tribut­ing to my grow­ing unease as I recalled my mission—to awak­en Pop­pa.

At that moment, I felt a gen­tle touch from Sam­son, ground­ing me as I acknowl­edged the per­sis­tent bick­er­ing around me. The deliv­ery­man’s jit­tery yet melod­ic voice broke the silence, as he asked what we were doing. Car­lene urged Lester to show back­bone, while she mocked his lack of gump­tion.

I cau­tious­ly stepped for­ward, inquir­ing if he was head­ed to Kansas, explain­ing our need to reach Sali­na. Lester fum­bled his words, seem­ing over­whelmed, giv­ing the impres­sion that he was not quite quick on the uptake. He ulti­mate­ly stat­ed we could not be on his bus, though his fin­ger, point­ing shak­i­ly toward us, sug­gest­ed uncer­tain­ty.

I per­sist­ed, explain­ing that my par­ents were in Sali­na and that he would be help­ing us if he let us ride. Car­lene taunt­ed Lester, claim­ing he would cave in, while Rhon­da lament­ed his timid nature. As I plead­ed with him, it was clear I was push­ing Lester to a break­ing point between com­pas­sion and fear of reper­cus­sions from his boss.

In a moment of hes­i­ta­tion, Lester slumped into a seat, clear­ly wrestling with his reluc­tance. Final­ly, he inquired where we were from, reflect­ing a sur­ren­der of his pre­vi­ous resolve as he faced the inevitable real­i­ty of help­ing us.