Monthly Archives: October 2020

Where There is Hope. There is Possibility

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I’m awakened by the noise of my stomach growling and rumbling. I glance over at the clock on the nightstand, and I’m shocked when I realize it’s one-thirty in the afternoon. How has so much time passed by?

I have a god-awful taste in my mouth as if something died in there, and my head is pounding. I must have a migraine coming on. I drag myself out of bed. I still feel kind of groggy. I turn the cold water on in the shower and step in under the cold and unforgiving water. It’s pounding down on my head and weary body. As I step out of the shower, I almost slip on the tile floor. I manage to grab ahold of the edge of the sink at the last possible moment. I dry myself off and dress in blue jeans and a tee-shirt. I don’t have any clean underwear, so I have to put on yesterdays. They’re lying in a heap of dirty clothes on the bathroom floor. I vow to do the laundry today.

Road Trip

I’m almost afraid to look in the mirror. There are dark circles and bags under my eyes. I drag the comb through my hair. I need a haircut so badly, and yet I can’t manage to gather the energy to call up my hairdresser and make an appointment.  Once again, I stare into the mirror at my reflection and think, who is that? That can’t be me. When did I get this old?

I shuffle out toward the kitchen and can’t help but notice the disarray I come across with every step. When did I stop caring about, well, everything? I need something or someone to give me a reason to keep going. Ever since my husband died. Well, he didn’t die. He’s just dead to me since, after thirty years of marriage, he left me for another woman. Not even a younger woman, someone my own age. I sigh and head toward the kitchen. I know I‘ll feel better if I get a good breakfast under my belt. That is, if I had a belt that I could still buckle. I really need an exercise routine. I need something that will give me the incentive to get up, get out, and start moving. I decide to make hot oatmeal with raisins. I have always loved hot oatmeal.

That was great, I do feel so much better, and the Earl Grey tea hit the spot as well. I start washing the dishes and wiping down the counters, and even cleaning the sink. The phone rings. It’s probably just someone wanting me to buy something or some scammer trying to sell me additional time on a warranty for a car I no longer own.

“Hello, yes, this is Janice Rathgeb. Who’s this?”

“Mary O’Donnell, you say. Yes, that sounds familiar. Oh yes, you’re my Aunt Patsy’s lawyer. What can I do for you? What, she passed away? I’m sorry to hear that, I haven’t spoken to her in a long time. She was always so kind to me. I should have kept in touch. But you know how things are. You get busy. But that’s no excuse.”

“The reason I’m calling is that your Aunt Mary has left you her most precious possession, but you will have to come here by end of the day to take ownership. Please send me your email address, and I will give you the location where you can take delivery.”

“You want me to come to pick “it” up? Can’t you just mail it to me?”

“No, the condition of taking ownership in your Aunt’s will states clearly that you must come to the location and take ownership.”

I decided to check out my email and the news on the internet. The next thing I know, it’s four hours later. I received the address to pick up my “inheritance.” I can not imagine what my Aunt would give me. She was always kind to me when I was growing up. She was somewhat of an odd duck. She was creative and used to write stories and even paint. She really didn’t fit in with the rest of the family at all.

But she always made time for me. She gave me thoughtful gifts on birthdays and Christmas. One time she took me out and paid for me to go for a ride in a helicopter. I can remember how I was so excited by that ride and didn’t stop talking about it for months. I don’t understand why I stopped seeing and talking to her. And now it’s too late.

I pull myself up out of my chair and head into the kitchen to make some lunch. I decided that tomorrow first thing I would go to the location my Aunt’s lawyer sent me and pick up my mysterious inheritance. I start feeling optimistic about it. Finally, something good is going to happen. After dinner, I plan my trip and pack an overnight bag just in case I have to stay over.

I imagine all the things my aunt might leave me. She was quite a collector of art, antique furniture, and musical instruments. Oh, I almost forgot about the musical instruments. When I was about fifteen, she bought me a mountain dulcimer. It was handmade, and the sounds it created were incredible. I loved that dulcimer. It turned out that I had a natural talent. I played it for many years when I met my husband to be and then we got engaged. He didn’t care for the dulcimer.

He discouraged me from playing, and when we were able to buy our first house, he said I was going to be too busy setting up the household and eventually having children. Turns out he wasn’t able to have kids, so I spent the next thirty years selling insurance. I tried to convince him that we could adopt children, but he said he didn’t want to raise anyone else’s kids.

I went to bed early that night since tomorrow would be a long day of driving. I haven’t been back home for years. After my parent’s passed away, there didn’t seem to be any reason to go back to North Carolina. My whole family had spread out across the country, and no one was left in Pittsboro. It’s a small southern town, and there didn’t seem to be much of a future for me there. So, I moved to the Philadelphia, Pa area. And that’s where I met my future husband.

The next morning, I woke up before the alarm went off. I feel optimistic, as if something wonderful is going to happen. I don’t remember the last time I felt happy. I feel energized and excited. I eat a quick breakfast and drink a cup of coffee. I grab my purse and suitcase and head out to the garage.

I look at my car and wish I had taken the time yesterday to take it to the car wash. I decide to take the time to clear out all the fast-food wrappers and old take-out coffee cups. When did I become such a slob? I used to be so neat and clean. I guess it happened about the time I realized my husband didn’t love me anymore, and it was clear he had found someone else. I just stopped caring about everything, even myself. But today is a new day, and I just feel in my bones that it’s going to be the beginning of something life-changing.

It will take about seven and a half hours to drive from Philadelphia to North Carolina. If I only take a couple of stops along the way, I should arrive at about six ‘clock tonight. I pack a lunch and have a big thermos of coffee. I back out of the garage and get out and lock the garage and check the front and back doors. Everything is locked tight. And I’m off.

My first and only stop is going to be the exact midway point between Philadelphia and Pittsboro in Woodford, Virginia. It is 423 miles at the halfway point. The first half of the trip goes by quickly without any problems. I decide to stop at one of the rest stops to have lunch. I haven’t done that in years. For some reason, I always loved shopping and eating at Rest Stops. The food is always awful and greasy. And to be completely honest, I just love that greasy food.

But somehow, there’s a kind of excitement about being midway between two places and not having any responsibilities or worries other than getting from point A to point B. And then there is the added enjoyment of watching your fellow travelers and listening to their conversations. I have always loved listening to the conversations of strangers. The ones you will never see again. I guess I’m kind of a voyeur.

I pull into a parking spot and grab my purse and lock the car. And head into the rest stop. I use the lady’s room and then find an empty seat and look at the menu. I decide to go for a cheeseburger with the works, including onion, since I’m driving by myself. I also order spicy fries and a piece of apple pie with hot coffee.

As I wait for my order, I look around, and the place is almost completely full.  I see a couple of little kids running all over the place and hear their parents yelling, “Joey and Samantha come back to your seats right now. Your lunch is here.” The kids run around once more until the father yells at the top of his lungs, “get your asses over here and sit down.”

Every head in the restaurant pops up, and everyone quiets down. I guess at some point in their lives, they all had their fathers yell at them with that voice and knew they had better sit down and shut up, or you were in big trouble. I laugh out loud. I stop at the lady’s room once again just in case. And head back to my car for the second half of the trip.

I arrived at the hotel and made a reservation outside of Pittsboro. I gave my aunt’s lawyer a call and let him know I arrived. He gave me an address to meet him tomorrow morning at ten in the morning. I am exhausted by the long drive but, at the same time, excited by all the possibilities of what I may have inherited. My aunt always had a big heart, but she had a great sense of humor, so who knows what would happen tomorrow?

I decide to freshen up in my hotel room and then eat at the restaurant down the street. They promised to have country cooking. Oh, how I always loved country cooking.

The dinner was great and about as Southern as you can get. I left a big tip and thanked the waitress. I promised to stop by again if I ever came this way.

The next morning, I woke up a seven o’clock sharp and got a shower, and headed for the hotel dining room where breakfast. I settled for yogurt and coffee and a buttered muffin. I studied the map last night, and it looks like I have about a forty-five-minute drive to the address I was given. I was told to ask for Liz Fortunato.

I forgot how beautiful North Carolina was in the Spring when all the wildflowers started appearing all along the country roads, and the farms were coming alive. Oh, and all the cows and sheep and horses on the family farms along the way. Really beautiful. I didn’t realize how much I missed it. I was about to make my last turn for my destination when I started thinking, what in the world could my aunt have left for me way out here in the country? And then I saw a large sign at the gate of a beautiful farm. It said Fortunato’s Kennels and Boarding. What in the world did my aunt leave me a horse? What would I do with a horse?

I pulled up to the front gate, and there was a sign that said, Open the Gate, and drive through and close the gate behind you. So, I did just that. I drove down a long driveway past some beautiful pastures with horses and burros and goats and sheep. I pulled over at the end of the driveway when I saw a middle-aged woman walking toward me. “Hello, are you Janice Rathgeb?”

“Yes, are you Liz Fortunato?”

“Yes, I am. I’m so happy that you were able to come out here as quickly as you have. We have been looking forward to meeting you since Harry came to live with us. He is such a wonderful fellow. I know you will fall in love with him the moment you meet him.”

“Harry, who are you talking about?”

“Well, as I understand it, Harry is the inheritance that your favorite aunt left you when she passed away.”

“But what is Harry?”

“Why Harry is a dog, of course. He is the most beautiful Irish Setter I’ve ever had the pleasure to board here at Fortunato’s. I know you will love him as much as we have all come to love him. Hold on while I contact his kennel and have one of the keepers come out with Harry.”

Janice stood there flabbergasted. She was so shocked by the turn of events she didn’t even know how to respond. She hadn’t owned a dog since she was a young girl. When he passed away, she was brokenhearted. She loved that dog more than anything or anyone. She was about ten years old when she passed away. And Janice said she never wanted to have another dog again. Because the loss she felt when he died was more than she could ever take again in her life.

At that moment, a young girl in her twenties came walking up the path toward them, and next to her walked the most beautiful dog that she had ever seen. She realized Harry was the spitting image of her dog Naomi.

“Thank you, Ellen, for bringing Harry. This is Ms. Rathgeb, and she is going to be Harry’s new owner.”

“Oh, Ms. Rathgeb, I’m going to miss Harry so much. He is the most loving dog you can imagine. He has such a sweet temperament.” And with some reluctance, she placed Harry’s leash in Janice’s hand. “Goodbye, Harry. I will miss you so much.” And she turned and walked away.

Janice looked over at Liz Fortunato and said, “Harry is my inheritance?”

“Well, yes, I suppose he is. When your aunt became ill, she contacted me and asked if I could care for him until you arrived. That was about a month ago. I heard she passed about two weeks ago. I was sad to hear it. She was the kindest soul I had ever met. And Harry here, well, he is an angel. There are no other words to describe him. He never met anyone that he didn’t like, and everyone who has met him loved him on sight. I’m not exaggerating.”

Janice looked at Harry, and he looked right into her eyes, and her heart began to melt. He stepped forward a few steps and place his beautiful face in the palm of her hand, and she leaned over and began petting his beautiful long, silky coat. “Wow, he reminds me so much of a dog I had when I was a child. I loved that dog.”

“I have no doubt but that you will fall in love with Harry in no time at all. He is intelligent, has a sweet and loving nature, and rarely barks. As I said, everyone had come to love him and will miss him. But we know he will be happy with you. I’m sure your Aunt knew what would make you happy. Unconditional love and loyalty.”

Janice got down on her knees and petted Harry from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail. “Oh, he is such a beautiful dog.” Janice felt her heart melt a little, and then Harry put his head on her knee and looked up into her eyes. And that’s when Janice knew that nothing her aunt could have left her would be better than this beautiful dog. Who she had no doubt she would love for the rest of his life.  And she had found a soul that would give her life meaning and unconditional love.

Thank you, Ms. Fortunato. I have to agree I can’t imagine any greater gift that my aunt could bestow upon me than this beautiful dog.”

Janice took Harry’s lead and said, “let’s go home, Harry.” And he walked off with her towards her car and never looked back. Janice opened the back door of the car and jumped in as if he had done it a thousand times before. Janice got in the front seat, locked the doors, and started driving toward the gate. “Well, Harry, I wonder what life has in store for us? I don’t know for sure, but I know it will be a wonderful adventure.”

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Trick or Treat

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Halloween

Gerhard fromPixabay

I had been looking forward to Halloween for months. It’s my favorite holiday next to Christmas. I have been bugging my mother for months to make me a costume but it looks like I‘ll be wearing the same costume again. My sister and I were in a wedding a few years ago we were ring bearers. And since we’re twins, we had to wear the same kind of dress. Even though we don’t look alike at all. I have long, dark blond hair and my sister has dark brown curly hair and is taller than I am.

Anyway, this is the last year, I’ll be wearing the dress since when I tried it on the other day my mother had trouble zipping it up. It was so tight and short. It is above my knees. My mom bought a crown at the Ben Franklin 5 &10 store. She said,

” Susan this year you can be a princess.”

“Ok, Mom,” I said, but I must have made a face at her. She said,” Susan don’t give me that face.”

I guess I make a lot of faces since someone says that to me just about every day of my life. Sometimes people get on my last nerve. Even my mother who is the nicest person I know.

Anyway, I absolutely love Halloween even more than Christmas.” Why you ask because candy that’s why. I love candy more than anything in the world except animals, especially cats. My favorite place in the world is Schuck’s. It is a store around the corner from me. It’s on Main Street next to Harry Fuelle’s grocery store. Anyway, as I was saying Schuck’s is this store that is a luncheonette, they make the best hoagies in the world. And they have a soda fountain and a room where all the teenagers go to listen to the Jude Box and dance. When I get old enough, I’m going to go in there. That is if I ever learn to dance. My sister says I won’t because I have two left feet and I’m a klutz. I have to admit I’m pretty clumsy. “

When Halloween finally arrived, I was so excited I couldn’t eat dinner. My mother said, “Susan, eat something please. You eat like a bird.” One of my sisters, who shall remain nameless said, “yeah, a vulture.”

Then, I said, “shut up.” And my mother got mad since we are not allowed to say “shut up” for some reason. I said, “sorry mom.” But then I stuck my tongue out at the unnamed sister. She said, “Mom, Susie, stuck her tongue out at me.” Which made me stick my tongue out again. Because nobody likes a rat.” My sister said, “She did it again.” My mother said,” that’s enough or neither of you will be going out for Halloween.” And that was the end of our argument.

On Halloween night I squeezed into the now very tight and uncomfortable blue taffeta dress. It is the itchiest material you can imagine. And because it was so tight on me, I could hardly lift my arms. And if I did lift my arms my underwear would show because it is so short. I couldn’t zip it so I had to ask my mother to zip it. She said,” Susie, take a deep breath, I can’t zip it up.” I held my breath and she said, you are going to have to wear a sweater or jack because I can only get it halfway up.”

And that’s when I made a face. “What did I tell you about making faces, Susie?’ I made another face. “I can hardly breathe Mom.” She said, “You’ll be fine.”

That’s what she always said, “You’ll be fine.” If I was standing there breathing my last breath she would say,” you’ll be fine.” If I fell off my bike and broke my leg, she would say, “you’ll be fine.”  One time I had some kind of horrible flu and was throwing up, had a fever and a headache. She rubbed some Vick’s on my chest and said, “stop moaning you’ll be fine.”

My mother never complains about anything. All my friends, mothers always told me, “your mother is a saint. She is going to go straight to heaven.” And then I would cry because I couldn’t bear the idea of my mother dying. Then they would tell me I was such a crybaby. Everyone is always telling me I’m a crybaby. I guess I am because my feelings get hurt easily. Like when my father says, “I don’t know what your biggest problem is that your stupid or your lazy.” I always cried when he said that. And then one of my older sisters would say, “she’s such a crybaby.”

So, after I finally managed to squeeze into the blue dress I ran down to my best friend, Joanie’s house carrying my empty pillowcase. Believe it or not, I would be able to fill the pillowcase not once but twice before the end of the night. I ran up her steps and banged on her front door. Her father answered the door. “Oh, I should have known it would be you. You practically live here.”

“Hi, Mr. Gioiella, is Joanie here?”

“Of course, she’s here, hold onto your britches.” And then he slams the door in my face. Joanie and I always argue about whose father is the biggest grouch. They are so much alike. Joanie is always late, she is slow. She finally shows up at the door and she has an amazing costume on. She is Super Girl and she has make-up on. “Are you wearing make-up?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Nothing you look great.”

What are you supposed to be? Isn’t that the same dress you wore last year?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to be a princess.”

She takes one look at me and says,” better luck next year. Let’s go.”

And off we go. We walk down to the corner and hit all the stores on Main Street. My favorite is the Maple Shade Bakery. They make the best bread and donuts and pastries.

Then we go to the Ben Franklin Store and I pick a cap gun out of the basket. Joan picks a barrette. We see two of our friends there and go over and say hello. And head out to the houses along Main Street down to Fork Landing Road. It is starting to get dark out and all the kids are walking up and down the streets with flashlights. Joan and I are yelling hello to everyone we see at the top of our lungs. We have already eaten so much candy we both feel sick. I actually think I might puke. But that doesn’t stop me from eating more candy. We walk all over town including our own street we decide to stop and empty our pillowcases because they are getting too heavy. Joanie’s mother tries to tell her she has enough and it is getting late. But Joanie starts crying and her mother says, “alright but you better come home by 9:30. And don’t eat anymore.”

We both promised we won’t eat anymore, and at that moment I really don’t think I can eat anymore. There are still a lot of kids running up and down the streets. Most of the little kids have gone home with their parents. Joan and I decide to go across Main Street behind the public elementary school. People are starting to turn their porch lights out. So, we only go to the houses with the light still on since most people have run out of candy by now.

At the last house, we went to I was given a coconut almond bar which is my all-time favorite. “Look what I got, Joan. I think I have enough. Are you ready to go home?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. Tomorrow we can start thinking of what your costume will be for next year since I don’t think you will fit into that dress again.” And then she laughs. Probably not after I eat all the candy I got.”

And we laughed all the way home. You know the kind of laugh kids do when they ate too much junk and are exhausted. The kind where it’s hard to stop laughing long after you remember why you are laughing.

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DORA’S DAY GOES FROM BAD TO WORSE

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Dora wakes up slowly. She lifts her head, and it feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls. She looks from left to right.  All she sees is what looks like the morning sky, and it is somewhat overcast. She attempts to rise. And she realizes two things at once.  First, she isn’t in her bedroom and, hence, not in her bed. And secondly, she isn’t alone. “What the hell is going on? Whose idea of a joke is this, goddammit.”

Nest

by Rauschenberg-Pixabay

Dora isn’t a morning person. It’s the main reason she never married. She can’t bear the idea of waking up next to someone every morning and having to make small talk. She isn’t cheerful, or it’s a new beginning kind of girl. She’s more of a get the hell out of my face kind of girl.

And here she is, wherever the hell that is? Outside looking at the great beyond. She finally gets her sea legs and stands up gingerly. It almost feels like she is on a ship out at sea. And a storm is brewing. There is a slight swaying beneath her feet. She looks down. Unbelievably, she sees nothing, just more sky. “What the fuck is going on?” Dora curses like a sailor on leave when she’s frightened or angry or happy, or drunk, or just because she damn well feels like it, damn it. She was born and raised in South Philly, and she doesn’t give a good goddamn what anyone thinks about her.

But right now, she fears the worst: that she has finally gone off her rocker, lost her marbles, or lived in a crazy town. Take your pick.

She twists her head and then looks down again. Her head spins. Momentarily, she feels as if she might faint or stroke out. She hasn’t decided which she prefers. At her feet are two objects that, for all the world, look like giant eggs. They look like they weigh a good twenty pounds each.  They are pale green with blue speckles. “Sweet muscular Jesus, I must have taken some bad assed drugs last night. This is the worst hallucination I have ever had. “Wake up, wake up, you dumb shit.”

Dora squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head vigorously, painfully. Trying to wake up from this nightmare or bad trip or whatever the fuck it is. She has had enough. And then suddenly, she hears what can only be described as what sounds like the scream of someone being torn limb from limb. She fears that she is the one screaming.

She pries and opens her eyes with her fingertips. Because she can’t manage to make them open any other way, momentarily, she is relieved because she doesn’t see any blood spurting out of her shoulder where her arm used to reside. She touches the top of her head, and it appears to be intact. She looks down and sees that both feet are attached to both legs. “What the flying fuck is going on here?”

And that is when she sees what is poking out of the egg-shaped object. The things that nightmares are made of. Without warning, a sound so loud, so horrific that she could not even believe it existed.  Not in the world she previously lived in or any other world man or woman has imagined. She covers her ears. She starts saying the Hail Mary, words she hasn’t uttered since she attended Catholic Grade School. God, anyone, somebody, please help me. Wake me up, help me.

She looks down; surely, her eyes must be deceiving her. But at her feet and rising out of the “egg” is what looks like a nightmarish bird. A bird from the Third Circle of Hell, a bird without feathers. A bird exposed to radiation. But, then “the bird” opens its monstrous beak, it displays a mouth full of teeth. Teeth that perhaps once belonged to a Saber Tooth Tiger. And then, just as she feels, she might lose her mind.  The other egg starts cracking, and a beak starts to emerge. The screaming begins anew. It is so loud that she thinks her head might explode. That is the moment she realizes that the ungodly bellowing is not coming from the horrific babies. But something is flying above her and baring down on what she now realizes is some kind of nest from hell.

The babies are screaming in unison. Surely, Dora’s eardrums will burst soon, and she will no longer have to endure the sound for another moment. The thing that was flying above her is now circling for a landing on the freaking nest. At that moment, a thought pops into her mind. She tries to push it away. But she can’t, it remains. The thought is I’m the worm that these ungodly creatures will be given for their first meal.

The closer the gargantuan bird came, the more eminent the end of Dora’s life became. Her life flashes before her eyes. Just like you always hear happens to people when their lives are about to end, as they jump off the roof, or the bridge, or drown in a polluted lake. She sees her long-dead mother’s face looking down at her baby self. She sees her first day in school with Sister John Michael telling her to sit down and shut up. She sees herself playing with her friends in the backyard. The vision begins to fast forward, and her final thought is, “What the fuck is happening?” Gimme another chance, please. I can do better. And then the lights go out.

The light is bright, unbearably bright. There is a low humming noise. A sense of floating through the air. Dora feels a sense of release as if she was bound and now, she is free. She hopes she is in heaven or some version of heaven and not hell. Even though in her previous life she long ago gave up the notion of the hereafter. She hears a distant voice that she thinks must be God or Satan. “Open your eyes.”

Cora is afraid to open her eyes to eternity. “You can do it, Cora; open your eyes.” Cora opens her eyes. The bright light is still above her. She hears a high-pitched crying. She thinks, on no, I’m still in the nightmare. She forces her eyes open. “Try to sit up a little, Cora, and you can hold your baby. You had a rough time of it. But you are both fine, Congratulations.

Cora looks around, is speechless for a moment, and then shrilly says,” What the hell is this?”

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SHOPPING DAY

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Produce Section

Every  Monday, I go food shopping at the Food Lion. I do not enjoy food shopping at all. I’m not a big eater, and I’m on a sugar-free diet.

I made the decision recently to make  shopping more interesting. Last week I came up with the idea of picking out one of my fellow food shoppers and watching them as I shop. I will observe what kind of foods they purchase, what kind of car they drive, and what, if any, interaction they have with other people who are also shopping or working in the store.

I’ve always been a people watcher. I enjoy observing people over time and trying to figure out what makes them tick. Let’s say I’m a student of human nature and leave it at that. I don’t want to hear any of you bringing up the word stalker. That’s just a bunch of hooey. Besides, I just got a little carried away that last time. I was let go with a warning.

I pull into the driveway leading to the parking lot of the Food Lion. A car catches my eye. It’s a hot pink 1965 Caddy. Pristine condition. I know whoever is driving this car is the one for me. Unless there are children in the car. I avoid them like the plague. Somehow kids have a sixth sense about me and start crying and whining as soon as they see me. Dogs too, they start off whining and then bark non-stop.

I drive to the next parking aisle and pull in opposite the hot, pink Caddy and wait to see who emerges. I’m ninety-nine point nine percent certain a woman will step out of the car. Not too many men have the cajones to drive a pink Caddy.

And sure, enough a woman who looks to be about mid-thirties steps out of the car. And ever so gently closes the driver’s side door and locks it. Then she gives the car a pat on the hood and leans over. It looks as if she is whispering something to her car. She starts walking toward the entrance, and the automatic door opens for her. She takes one last look back at her car and smiles. Her smile grabs me by my heart and gives it a squeeze. She’s the one.

I walk slowly towards the entrance. I don’t want to give myself away. I have to remain anonymous. But don’t worry I’m an expert at fading into the background. She’ll never know I’m there. I see her grab a cart, and she wipes it down with from top to bottom. She takes out a second wipe and cleans off the handle slowly from one side to the other.

And she heads towards the Produce Department. I pick up one of the small grocery baskets and walk over to the wine and beer aisle. I place a bottle of wine in my basket. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t buy wine in a grocery store. But I don’t want to call attention to myself by following her into the Produce Department. And I want to keep her in my field of vision.

I can see her clearly now. She has her hair dyed hot pink, the same color as her Caddy. Her lips are red, deep red, like blood. She is wearing skin-tight jeans and a sleeveless tank top. She is extremely fit looking. She has on a pair of hand-tooled boots. My heart is beating hard. I have to stop for a moment to catch my breath.

She heads over to the meat department and picks up two large steaks. She steps up to the counter where you order lunchmeat to place an order. The butcher gives her a broad smile and whispers something in her ear. I feel my face turning red and a lump in my throat. Suddenly, I feel so angry. I almost shout, “Get away from her.” But, at the last moment, I clap my hand over my mouth. I can’t believe I almost lost it. I decide to take a few moments to calm myself down. This has only happened once before and it did not end well. I know I need to calm down or I will have to leave before I give myself away altogether.

I walk over to the water cooler and cup my hands and then put the cold water on my face. I slow down my breathing until I feel myself gaining control of my emotions. Slowly, I walk back towards the aisle where I last saw her. I look up and down, nothing. God, what if she left while I was freaking out. I’ll never have another chance with someone like her. I’m so angry at myself. Suddenly, I realize someone is staring at me. It’s the store manager, Joseph Taylor. He lives in my neighborhood.

“Mr. Jenkins. Are you all alright? I thought for a moment that you were going to get sick, or pass out or something?”

“What, no, no I’m fine. I’m just getting over the flu. And I felt a bit sick to my stomach that’s all. It’s probably because I haven’t eaten today. Thanks for asking.”

I head down towards the refrigerated aisle. I think she’s having company for dinner and she has everything except dessert. Finally, I see her standing in front of the ice cream cases. She looks at it for a moment and then pulls open the door. I see she’ picks chocolate-chip mint. Oh my god, that’s my all-time favorite. It’s clear that this was meant to be. We were meant to be.

I follow about four feet behind her. I drop a couple of items in my basket. She walks toward the first cash register and grabs a bunch of flowers. She has thought of everything. We are going to have such a great time tonight. I can hardly wait.

She walks over to the ten items or less lane. I can’t hear her conversation but she seems to be overly friendly to the cashier. A good-looking young man about twenty years old. His face is flushing as he laughs at some joke, she tells him.

I feel like my head is going to explode, how dare she flirt with that young man. She belongs to me. I’m going to have to teach her how to behave. She is acting like a slut and I can’t tolerate any woman of mine flirting with another man. It is just not acceptable. My head begins to pound.

The cashier is putting her purchases in bags. And handing the bags over to her. I can’t help but notice that every time he hands her a bag, he” accidentally” touches her hands. And then she smiles and him and laughs.

And that is when I see red. I’m not imagining it. I actually see red. I scream out at the top of my lungs, “what the hell are you doing” Keep your hands to yourself.”

I throw down my shopping basket and launch myself at the young man over the counter. I’m, “get away from her, she belongs to me.”

And the next thing I remember is I’m lying on the filthy floor and my hands are cuffed and I’m being dragged to my feet by two burly policemen. They are reading me the Miranda rights, “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

“What the hell is going on? Why am I in cuffs? I wasn’t doing anything but protecting my woman. That filthy young man was putting his hands all over her. He was molesting her. She belongs to me.”

“What?  I don’t know that man. I’ve never seen him before. He is some kind of mental case. No one was molesting me. I was just paying for my purchases. And this nutjob flies over the counter and starts choking this young man.”

“Yes, mam.  We understand that but you and the young man are going to have to go to the police station and make a statement. We know this man here. He has a history of stalking. He just recently got out of prison for abducting a young woman and keeping her against her will for three months.”

“What? Oh my god. Why me, I never even saw him before. Why me?”

‘Well, you do fit the profile of the type of women he is attracted to, obviously, he is mentally ill. You will have to testify against him. He is going to go away for a long time. Since he has broken his probation by this assault and stalking you.”

“Stalking me, he was stalking me?”

“Yes, it certainly appears that way.”

That is when I am pulled up to my feet by my handcuffed hands and dragged out the Food Lion door. I really lost it when  I realize I’m about to be thrown into the squad car. I start screaming at the top of my lungs,” What the hell are you doing? I was just trying to protect my woman, that man was accosting her. You have no reason to arrest me. I was trying to protect her.”

“Mr. Jenkins, I suggest you keep quiet and not further incriminate yourself. Wait until we get to the police station and talk to your lawyer. Now duck your head and get in the back seat. Before I charge you with resisting arrest. Do you understand?”

I  plop down in the seat. I look longingly at the Pink Caddy. I want so much to be sitting in that car with my woman. What kind of cockeyed justice do we have in this country anyway? When an innocent man can’t even protect the woman he loves?

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LATE NIGHT WHISTLE

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I often lie in bed late at night, listening for the train whistle and the rumbling of the train as it goes by. I rent a run-down row house just on the other side of the train tracks. Some people think the sound of a train whistle is lonely. But I don’t. I love that sound. It captured my imagination years ago. Reminding me of all the places that I would love to see, in all those mysterious and exotic countries I’ve read about throughout my life.

Photo by Larisa Koshkima

Train tracks by Larisa Koshima

As I wait for sleep to take me, my last thought is that nothing is keeping me here in this dead-end town. I could be a waitress anywhere. I’m a damn good waitress.

I wake up at 6:45 am one minute before the alarm goes off, as always. I serve the early risers during the week. I know them all by their first names. It feels as if I’ve been waiting on them all my life.

But it’s only been five years. Five years. Five years of pouring cup after cup of coffee. Listening to the same conversations. Smelling the same smells burnt toast and greasy fried eggs. Filling the salt and pepper shakers and sugar bowls.  And wiping down the same tables.

I smile and say,” have a great day.” as they go out the door. Knowing I’ll be saying the same thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that.

I slowly rise out of my bed and slide my legs over the side of the bed. I sigh and take a deep breath. I take a quick shower and pull on my uniform. I grab my purse and a light jacket and head out my door. And walk down Main Street in towards The Painted Grill, the restaurant where I wait tables. I walk right past the restaurant. I see Charlie heating the grill. I stare with longing at the train station. I keep walking down the street, not sure at first where I’m going. I find myself standing at the counter at the train station.

“How far will two hundred dollars take me?” I ask the station master.

“Well, you can take this train into Raleigh and then switch onto the express there, and take the express train all the way to New York. From there, you can go to any port of call.

“I’ll take one ticket.”

“Go over to track D, and the train should be pulling up in the next couple of minutes. Here’s your ticket.”

After a few minutes of standing in the steaming hot morning air, I spy the train in the distance. My heart starts beating faster. I hear the whistle. And the train pulls up with a screech, and the doors hiss as they open up. I step up and walk to the back seat and sit down. I hear the air rush out of the seat. I take deep breaths and watch as people come in and sit down.

The train whistles and starts up again. I look out the window, and I let out a breath that I didn’t know I was holding. I feel an unfamiliar feeling, and then I realize that I’m smiling. I know that this is the first day of the rest of my life. I keep smiling.

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