Though eighteen, Alice's cognition is closer to that of a four-year-old's. She communicates with few words, but croaks them out with enthusiasm. Alice laughs, sings, and loves in ways that make bystanders applaud.
My mother, without fail, met us at the church with a box of McDonald's chicken nuggets to share. This lessened the blow of the imminent few hours of work that lay ahead. The three of us sat on the floor of the side entrance. Our dinner was set near double doors – seemingly with their backs to us, hooked together protecting the sacredness inside.