"Being unwanted, unloved, uncared for, forgotten by everybody, I think that is a much greater hunger, a much greater poverty than the person who has nothing to eat."
-Mother Teresa

The rain fell for two days straight. When it was over, Gus crawled out of his tent to check out what was left of Skid Row. The tents that had been tied to pallets, like his and Strawberry's, were still standing. Many others were collapsed in on themselves, blown away or flooded inside like baby pools. Everyone was taking inventory of what was damaged or destroyed and what they had left.

Gus had been right. Five people had died, four of hypothermia, during the storm: an old man named JJ, a prostitute who called herself Queenie, a junkie named Danny and his girlfriend, Emily, and a guy who'd snorted so much Ketamine he had drowned in a puddle, unable to lift his head. All of them were soaked through and had been sleeping under tarps on the sidewalk.

Strawberry was still in her tent asleep when Gus walked outside that first bright morning, so he left her portrait rolled up between a couple of pallet boards for her to find later. Then he made his way to Ida's to deliver her drawing and see how she'd weathered the storm.

Ida's tent was still standing, and she was outside helping another man push his water logged tent toward the street so he could dump it.

"How'd it go?" Gus asked her.

Ida smiled as she watched the man's tent flood gallons of water into the street. "Not too bad. It was kinda cozy. Did you get through okay?"

"Yep."

"Come on in. I got two for one Egg McMuffins."

Gus followed Ida inside and sat in his usual spot in the corner. While she dug through the McDonald's bag, he put the portrait he'd done on the floor in front of her.

"I did this. I was bored," he said.

Ida took the tightly rolled paper and peeled it open. She stared at it for a very long time, and Gus couldn't guess what she was thinking, and he feared she hated it. Then her face changed. For a moment, she almost looked like she might cry.

"This is incredible, Gus," she whispered.

"It's not that good," Gus said with an embarrassed shrug.

"No... it's really amazing. I'm not lying. I had no idea you could draw like this..."

"I did it all the time back in Chicago. I sold them to tourists, but I thought it was because they just felt sorry for me."

Ida shook her head. "You've got some real talent here. I don't think you know how much talent you have."

Gus blushed. No one had ever told him he was good at anything, not once in his whole life. He knew he was good at working people and playing the game, but otherwise he considered himself pretty useless.

"So you like it?" he asked nervously.

"I don't like the person in it," Ida said with a chuckle. "But the drawing is amazing."

"So I been thinkin', Ida," Gus said.

"About what?"

"I almost got enough money to get back to Chicago, and I want to take Strawberry. Do you wanna go too? Skid Row sucks. Everything's better there."

"You want me to go with you to Chicago?" Ida asked skeptically.

She handed Gus his Egg McMuffin, and he ripped off the wrapper hungrily and took a huge bite.

"Yemf," he said.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. Bad manners," Ida said bossily.

Gus swallowed. "Yep," he said.

"Why?"

"Our group needs a mom. None of us ever had one that was good. You're like a mom here... my mom," he said.

Ida's eyes were suddenly sad. "Honey, I can't be your mom. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to. Just be yourself, like you already are," Gus said.

"So what's in Chicago for me?" she asked with a slight smile.

"Cheaper living, lots of drugs and good friends, tourists all around, not just in Beverly Hills, and warm summers that aren't too hot. Oh and pizza. Really fuckin' good pizza. The best."

Ida laughed. Then she looked around her tent. "Well... I guess I have no reason to stay here. My kids live out in Missouri. That'd be closer to them..."

"So you will?" Gus asked excitedly.

"Yeah. Sure. Why not."

Gus grinned, fist pumping the air. "Hell yeah! You won't regret it! My friends there, we're like family. You'll be in our family too!"

"When are we goin'?" Ida asked.

"A few weeks... Maybe sooner if I really hustle."

Ida held out her hand for Gus to shake. He took it.

"I'm in," she said.

***********

Back at his own tent, Gus opened the front flap and jumped backwards in surprise. Strawberry was sitting inside, holding her portrait in her lap. Gus glanced around nervously before climbing into the tent beside her and zipping the flap.

"Are you crazy? What are you doing here?" he asked softly.

"You got it wrong," Strawberry said.

Gus hadn't noticed before, but she was crying, tears running down her cheeks.

"Huh?" he asked.

"This picture," she said hoarsely, holding it up. "That ain't me."

"What do you mean? I drew you just the way you are!" Gus said.

Strawberry sniffled. "Dis girl right here... she beautiful. She happy. She confident."

"That's you," Gus said, feeling confused. He didn't understand what Strawberry meant.

"I ain't any of those things, Gus. I'm a whore. I'm ugly. I ain't happy," she said, and her head drooped like a wilting flower over the drawing.

She angrily swiped the tears off her cheeks. Now Gus understood.

"Hey," he said softly, gently turning her face towards him. "You are all those things and more. You're amazing. I wish you could see that."

Strawberry let out a choked sob. "Oh Gus... I think I'm... maybe I'm fallin' in love witchu... and I can't! I can't!"

She was sobbing now. Gus wrapped his arms around her and held her to his chest. "You can," he said. "I love you too."

"But Daddy'll-"

"Come to Chicago with me. Ida, you know her, she's comin' too. We gonna be a family there. You'll be safe," Gus said earnestly.

Strawberry looked up at him for a long time. She seemed to be weighing her options. Finally she asked, "When?"

"A few weeks. I need a little more money. That's all," Gus said. He knew he'd work himself into the grave just so he could stop her tears.

Strawberry's dark eyes continued to gaze into his. "Gus?" she asked.

"What?"

"My name ain't Strawberry. My real name's Mahaylia. Daddy took it from me when I was twelve and gave me the other name. He even marked me," she said, pulling up her shirt and pointing to a tattoo on her ribcage with Strawberry written in spirally script. Gus gently touched it.

"I'm sorry," he said. "People marked me too."

He lifted his shirt in the back, where his many scars were. Mostly cigarette burns and lash marks. A road map of his nightmares. Mahaylia traced them and kissed each one.

"I'm sorry too," she whispered, her breath warm on his skin. "But no one will ever mark us again. I'm goin' to Chicago witchu."

Gus felt his stomach flip-flop with happiness. "Mahaylia... That's a pretty name."

They moved closer at the same time and kissed, slowly at first, then passionately.

"Make love to me, Gus," Mahaylia whispered in his ear. "Like it's the last time we ever will."