Page 74 of Smile for the Camera

“Are you okay, dear?” the elderly woman asks.

“Yeah,” Eliza says, or, more accurately, coughs.

It’s not my business, I think. But I feel bad seeing Eliza like this, working even though she’s clearly not okay.

“I can help you, miss,” I offer. Grace might walk in and berate me for working a job I wasn’t assigned. But right now, I only care about helping, both Eliza and this woman.

“I got—” Eliza coughs again and again, each louder than the one before.

“I got this,” I finish but for myself.

At this point, I know the layout well enough to figure out which halls lead to the exit.

“It was very kind of you to help,” the elderly woman says as I help her get into her daughter’s car.

“Thank you,” I say.

I thought doing something right, other than hand out water cups, would make me feel better, worthy like all the other volunteers. While I’m glad I helped, I just feel ... empty.

Eliza steps out of the bathroom just as I’m about to pass by. She coughs the kind I had when I needed to stay home from school.

“Want some water?” I offer.

Eliza and I are far from being friends, but I can’t ignore someone when they’re clearly not feeling well.

“I’m fin—” More coughs.

“Let’s go.”

To my surprise, Eliza follows me as I lead her to the small kitchen. I fill up two cups of water and hand one to her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to leave early?” I ask.

“I’m sure,” she replies, then gulps down her water.

“You have a lot of work here.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s early practice.”

“You want to be a nurse?”

She nods. “It’s my dream.”

“Well, you have a great start.” After she finishes her water, I hand her the other cup. “My dad’s a nurse too, and he always works hard in caring for his patients. That’s exactly what you’re doing now.”

A smile—am I seeing right?—breaks Eliza’s usually grouchy face. “Thanks. Hoping it’s enough to help my mom.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, eyes dropping down to her half-filled water cup. “She has an illness.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s hard seeing her so sick,” Eliza says, eyes locking her water cup in focus. “I’m relieved my brother and his husband are helping out, but I can’t stop myself from texting her to ask if she’s okay.”

“That must be hard.”

“Yeah, it is.”