By mid-afternoon, Derrick and Joey had moved in, and I’d introduced them to the other tenants. Joey had been installed by the fire in a camp chair next to the other folks who were having a Sunday cookout, while I helped Derrick unpack his rental truck. Everyone was friendly and welcoming to the two young men.
I had also informed Sara about Joey’s PTSD that morning while I’d worked on her sink, just in case an issue came up. I liked to think of the trailer park residents as my family. Derrick was very grateful for the change of environment and the opportunity to do better at work.
I waved away his gratitude. “No need to thank me, Derrick. I’m glad to help.”
As for the war veteran, Joey had a fragile beauty. He was skinny and frail, his hair a dull black which hung in limp strands around
