Peter nodded as they reached the row where they always parked their cars. Tessa’s tummy began to flutter with an unsettled feeling that had nothing to do with hunger pangs, but rather was the same sort of sensation she experienced when something bad was about to happen. It was, after all, a Wednesday.

She stopped dead in her tracks as her car came into view, but as she would have dashed ahead Peter clamped a hand around her forearm, halting her progress.

“Don’t, Tessa. Let me have a look first.”

She was trembling in shock to survey the broken window on the passenger’s side, and the pile of glass that littered the asphalt. Peter was careful not to touch the shattered window as he peered inside the vehicle, and then motioned her forward a moment later.

“I can’t tell if anything’s been stolen,” he told her. “But we need to clean this mess up before you can give it a closer look. Here.” He swiftly unlocked the door to his own car. “Sit in here and keep the door locked and the window rolled up until I come back. I’m going to grab a broom and a trash bag from the break room. Be back in just a few.”

But Tessa’s legs were shaking so badly that Peter had to gently guide her over to his own older model Toyota and then urge her inside. She pressed a fist against her mouth to stifle the sobs – or screams – that she longed to emit, and wondered wildly how much more hardship one person could be expected to endure.

She was grateful that everything of any value that she possessed – her drivers license, student ID, and ATM card; her cell phone; the wallet that contained a meager twenty dollars and some change – were always kept inside a hidden zippered compartment of her backpack. And that the backpack went everywhere with her. The rest of her belongings were stored in the trunk, and she doubted whether a thief would have bothered with her clothes and toiletries, not to mention her –

A soft knock on the window made her jump in alarm, but she was relieved to see that it was just Peter who’d returned. She let herself out of his car but stood back as he assured her he would take care of the mess, and watched numbly as he swept up all the broken glass from the ground and the inside of her car and dumped it inside a plastic bag.

“There. I think that’s all of it,” he told her. “Should be safe for you to check around your car but just be careful in case I missed some of the glass.”

“Okay. Thanks for sweeping it up,” replied Tessa. “I’m shaking so badly right now that I probably would have cut myself in a dozen different places.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured her gently, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. “And you’re okay, too. I’m not sure why anyone would pick one of our cars to break into, considering how crappy they both are. Probably just some punks out to cause trouble is all it was.”

She nodded in agreement as she pretended to look around the interior of her car, which was as neat and tidy as a pin, with nary a food wrapper or water bottle in sight. “Everything’s where it should be,” she said. “I never keep anything in plain sight, always keep the important stuff with me in this backpack, or stored in the trunk.”

“Better check the trunk,” advised Peter. “They could have popped it open from inside the car.”

Tessa hesitated, but could tell from the expectant look on his face that he wouldn’t be satisfied until she did what he asked. Sighing, she inserted her key and opened the trunk, hoping rather futilely that Peter wouldn’t think anything odd about some of the contents.

But the moment his eyes alighted on the pillow and quilt, as well as the neatly organized plastic bins that held an assortment of clothing, toiletries, bottled water, and snacks, Tessa knew he had guessed the truth.

“You’re living in your car?” asked Peter incredulously. “When did that happen? I thought you were staying with your friend.”

“It – it’s just temporary,” Tessa stammered. “Just – just for a couple of nights is all. We, um, had a disagreement and I figured it would be better if I left for a bit. But I know it will all blow over in another day or two, and I’ll - “

Peter shook his head. “You’re full of it, Tessa. This looks to me like you’ve set up shop here for the long haul. What the hell happened? And why didn’t you say anything?”

This time she couldn’t hold back the tears and began to sob brokenly. Peter cursed softly beneath his breath, and rather awkwardly patted her on the back.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “Let’s go grab some dinner and you can tell me everything. How does the IHOP across the road sound to you? My treat.”

Tessa sniffled. “You don’t have to do that, Peter,” she told him, her voice quavering a little. “I’ll just get some soup from the food court like I usually do.”

He frowned. “That’s all you eat for dinner every night? I figured that was just a snack.”

She gave him a wobbly smile. “The guy who waits on me always throws in some extra bread or crackers. He tells me it will just go stale otherwise.”

Peter smirked. “Yeah, that’s why he does it, all right. And not because he’s probably got major hots for you. Look, forget the soup for tonight, okay? You look like you could stand a real meal – several of them. I think a strong wind could blow you over right about now. Speaking of which, you’re going to have to figure out how to board that window up until you can get it fixed. One more thing for us to talk about over dinner.”

Despite her protests, Tessa found herself tucking in hungrily to a spinach and mushroom omelet and side of buttermilk pancakes. Peter had ordered a bacon cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke, and they both ate in silence for several minutes until he pushed his plate away.

“Okay, spill it,” he told her firmly. “All of it. Why you aren’t living at your friend’s anymore, when you left, and especially how you wound up living in your car.”

She sighed in resignation, taking a sip of her tea before reluctantly telling him the saga of her relatively brief stay in the Wallace household, and the factors that had forced her to leave. Throughout the tale Peter remained silent, his facial expression impassive, but he was shaking his head in unabashed disgust by the end of it.

“You know, under the circumstances, I would have probably done the same thing,” he mused. “As much as it sucks to actually have to live in your car, at least you don’t have to listen to all that bullshit and screaming every night. And believe me, I totally get that. My mom – well, let’s just say she isn’t very easy to live with. I can’t wait for the day when I can finally move out of our house and get away from her forever.”