“Twelve years.” He turned back to Patricia. “This woman has been keeping my store clean for twelve years. Never missed a shift. Never complained. Even when we couldn’t give raises during the pandemic. Even when her husband died last year and she still came to work the next night because she needed the money.”
Patricia tried to interrupt. “I didn’t know—”
He walked over to me. “Rosa, are you okay? Do you need medical attention?”
I shook my head, still in shock. “I’m okay, Mr. Mitchell.”
“No, you’re not. She hit you. That’s assault.” He turned back to Patricia. “I’m calling the police. You’re going to be arrested.”
Patricia’s demeanor changed completely. “Please, no. My husband… the publicity… I’m organizing a charity gala for children’s cancer research. This would ruin everything.”
“You should have thought of that before you hit a seventy-eight-year-old woman.” James was already dialing.
“Wait!” Patricia was panicking now. “I’ll apologize. I’ll make it right.”
James paused. “Rosa, what do you want to do? It’s your choice. We can press charges or we can handle this another way.”
I thought about it. About all the times people like Patricia had treated me like dirt. About all the nights I’d gone home with aching knees and a bruised spirit. About how invisible I’d felt for so long.
