Saturday morning came and Sarah went. Dr. Avery released her after all of the tests came back negative and no other information could be gathered.
She shut the crooked wooden door to their efficiency apartment with a loud creak. “Home, sweet home.”
Their cozy two-bedroom, one-bath home sat overtop of the old Jane Lew pharmacy. Its bones had been built to last and the original oak flooring remained intact.
Sarah strode to the bay window overlooking Main Street in this sleepy little hamlet. “Booming as ever.”
Her mother marched to the kitchen sink on the far side of the floor. “Damn it, Sarah.”
The sound of slamming dishes snapped her from her daydream. “What?”
“We don’t have anything to eat on unless you do the dishes.” She threw the faucet on and yanked the towel drawer open. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times.”
Sarah walked over to the edge of their hand-me-down floral print sofa. “I’m sorry, mom. I just forgot.”
Karla spun around snapping a hand to her hip. “Just forgot? I slave all night long up to my elbows in shit, and you can’t even remember to do one simple chore?” A porcelain plate trembled under her white knuckles.
“Momma, please.” Sarah strode over to the archway that separated the two spaces.
A glint of polished white in the corner of her eye gave Sarah enough forewarning to brace for the impact. The dinner plate shattered on the fleur-de-lis wallpaper next to her head and fell in pieces at her feet. A searing heat throbbed just below her right eye. Sarah dropped to the floor and covered her head sure that another missile would follow.
“God!” Karla stood hunched over the dual-basin sink. “I just – ya know?”
Karla’s boots echoed off the hardwoods as she strode toward the wall. Her mother’s calloused hands took Sarah by the forearms and lifted her from the shards. Sarah trembled in her mother’s embrace.
“Look, baby,” her mom said in a consoling tone, “I’m sorry. Okay?”
The odor of Ajax lingered on her work shirt. Sarah clasped her hands around the small of her mom’s back.
“I’m sorry.” Karla placed a hand on both of Sarah’s cheeks and forced her daughter to look her in the eyes. “I – I’m just really tired right now.”
Sarah nodded and pulled away from her mother’s grasp. Karla took her chin between her thumb and forefinger and turned Sarah’s head to one side. A thin line of crimson rolled down into the teardrops at the side of Sarah’s nose.
“We’ll have to clean that up.”
Sarah staggered to the bathroom at the end of the hall. “Fine.”
She took a small cluster of toilet paper and held it under the running water.
“I’ll have to leave again here in a little while to work another mid-shift,” her mom said through the clanging of the busted plate. “I’ll leave a few dollars out here on the table if you wanna go down to T&L.”
Sarah blotted the streamer of blood from her face. “Okay, mom.”
The shards of the weapon fell into their garbage can with a dull thud.
“There’s a basket of laundry that needs run across the street tonight, too. Can you do that for me?”
She tossed the soiled paper into the small wastebasket next to the toilet. “Yeah.” She lowered her tone to a whisper. “Why not? I just got out of the hospital.”
Karla tromped across the living area in her steel-toes. The front door groaned on its rusty hinges. “I’ll be back around the usual time tomorrow. If you need anything---”
“The number’s on the fridge, I know.”
The door closed, and with it the apartment fell silent. Sarah peered into her reflection in the broken mirror. Its long crack ran from the upper left corner and cut a path across her shoulder and chest. What did I do? A burning sting percolated behind her dejected eyes. How can she be so loving one minute and a raging lunatic the next? Her broken spirit manifested itself in clear streams down both cheeks. The notion of running away bubbled at the surface of her thoughts.
“I can’t do it.” She touched the pock mark on her left cheek and smiled.
Sarah had come down with the chicken pox when she was ten. Her mom had sat by her side for four days straight. She lied on the couch in her strawberry pee-jays forced to watch Tom and Jerry reruns and game shows. Sarah had itched at the pock on her cheek until the scab came off.
“That was a bad idea,” she muttered through another sniffle.
She rotated her face to get a better look at the cut on her right cheek. Sarah winced at the depth of the wound. “I hope that one doesn’t scar.”
The phone rang in its charger in the kitchen forcing her to swallow the pain. Okay, pull it back together, Sarah. She walked in and pulled the wireless receiver out of its cradle on the counter. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Annie said on the other end, “it’s me. You okay?”
Sarah wiped a wet finger on her jeans and strode to the couch. “Yeah, doing better.” She crawled over the arm of the couch and flopped down on her belly. “What’s up?”
“Just giving you one last chance to come hang out with the cool kids at the mall later. Interested?”
Sarah sank her head into the musty floral cushion. “I can’t. My mom’s on mids and I’ve got a lot to do tonight.”
Annie growled playfully through the phone. “Is she aware that we’re trying to give you a social life?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. So, I guess I’ll point out the elephant in the room. What’s with Collin?” Annie’s voice teetered on the brink of a gossip-spun frenzy.
Sarah rolled over on the couch and studied the crown molding trim along the high ceiling. “I dunno just yet.”
“Bullcrap. We’ve been friends for how long?”
“I know, I know.” She stretched out her legs over the back of the sofa releasing some of the nervous tension. “He’s cute and everything, but how am I gonna fit a boyfriend into what little life I have?”
“That’s exactly the point, Sarah.” Annie’s tone took a turn into Mothertown. “You need to get out---get away for a while.”
“You know I can’t. I’m all that she has.”
“You’re treated like a friggin’ slave, Sarah. Don’t you see it?”
Sarah bit down on her lower lip. Hold your tongue.
“Well, anyway,” Annie said, coming back on her side of the boundary, “I’d better get going. You know how Tanya gets when she hasn’t had her fix for the night.”
“Yeah.” Sarah giggled. “All right. You girls have fun.”
“We will. Bye, kiddo.”
“Later, chick.”
She pressed the ‘talk’ button on the receiver and tossed it to the far cushion. “Urgh! Why does mom have to be so damn difficult?”
She looked up at the small clock setting atop the TV: 3:27p.m.
“Fine.” She grabbed the phone off the cushion and set it in its cradle. “I’m going.”
Sarah took the three wrinkled bills from the table, the cluster of quarters from the coffee cup on the counter, and slid it all into her pocket. After she put on her coat, Sarah heaved up the basket of dirty laundry and headed out the door.
The Laund-o-Matic sat across the street from her apartment in a dumpy worn-down turquoise building. The sight of a small beat-up red Geo Metro parked near its front door made her smile. She’s such a sweet little old lady. Sarah never got around to asking the old woman for her name, but she ran into her at least twice a week in here. The dumpy old lady sat in the far corner hunched over another one of her romance novels. She turned her head at the sound of Sarah’s approach.
“Evenin’, dearie.”
Sarah smiled acknowledging her and set the basket on a vacant dryer. “Hello.” She sorted out the clothes and tossed a pile of them into the front-loader across the aisle.
“You should go, honey.” The plump lady licked her thumb and turned another page in her novel.
“Excuse me?” Sarah fished a pair of quarters out and fed the machine.
“It’s a great big world out there,” the woman said, turning her hairy chin up from the book. “It’ll do you some good.”
“It’s not that simple.” Sarah thumped the bottle of detergent on the dryer’s lid. “You wouldn’t understand.”
The elder chuckled and spun her body toward Sarah. Her sunken balls of coal studied Sarah from behind thick spectacles. “I understand enough.” Her chest heaved through a harsh lung spasm. “I understand that I’m an old fart and can still hear the racket from across the street sometimes. I understand that stairs don’t cause black eyes, or gashes on people’s faces.”
“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, “I didn’t mean---”
“I know whatcha meant.” The woman took her book in one hand and jabbed it at Sarah. “Life ain’t easy, honey. We’ve all gotta choose our own destiny.”
Sarah collected her last load and stuffed it into the neighboring washer. “Yes, ma’am.” Her belly announced its neglect from beneath her coat. “Listen,” she pointed out the window toward the street, “I’m gonna run to get a quick bite to eat. Would you mind?”
The old lady held up an open palm. “Gotcha covered. Go put some meat on them bones.”
“Thank you.” Sarah set her back against the glass door and backpedaled out into the frosty evening.
T&L sat a few blocks down Main Street on the other side of the bridge, so her walk in the frigid air didn’t take long. The bells on the restaurant’s door jingled as Sarah pried it open.
“Howdy stranger!” an old waitress said from behind the counter.
“Hey, Josie.” She took a seat at the counter and tossed her coat into the empty stool to her right.
“Haven’t seen you in here in a while.” Josie flopped an order pad on the faux marble countertop and plucked the pen from behind her ear. “How have you been, Sarah?”
“I’ve been in the hospital. That’s how I’ve been.”
The forty-something mom sucked in a quick lungful of air. “Good Lord, honey. Is everything okay?” Josie propped her sagging jowls up on her flabby forearms in front of Sarah.
“Yeah, I guess.” She fidgeted with an unopened straw. “I had a seizure, but they still don’t know what caused it.”
“Land’s sakes.” Josie scratched her graying curls. She poked her pen toward a covered dish holding two lone cookies. “Your chocolate no-bakes have been a hit around here. We’re gonna need some more real soon.”
Sarah’s face gleamed with pride. “I can manage that.”
“Here ya go, darlin’.” Josie slapped three tens down next to Sarah’s elbow. “Your take on this batch.”
“Thanks, Josie.”
“What are ya gonna do with all this money you’ve been makin’?” Josie waddled over to the gent at the other end of the counter and topped off his coffee.
“Just saving it up for a rainy day.”
Josie plopped back down on the counter across from Sarah. “What’ll it be tonight, hon? The usual?”
Sarah chuckled as she studied the large board hanging over the register. “Am I that predictable?”
“Mmm hmm.” Josie walked to the kitchen and returned with a chocolate soda. “I’ll have your hot dogs out in just a bit, baby.”
“Thanks.” Her body and soul warmed to the feeling of a real home and belonging to something.
Josie returned with two chili dogs coated in slaw and leaned on the counter while Sarah dined.
“I really hope those doctors get to the bottom of whatever’s buggin’ you.”
Sarah nodded, washing down another bite of the best dogs in the area with a swig of soda. “Me, too.”
“Your momma still on night shift?” Josie tossed a wave to an old farmer as he hobbled back out into the twilight. “See ya tomorrow, Ed.”
The old farmer mumbled something under his breath and lifted an arthritic hand as he left.
“Ole Ed’s been comin’ in here almost every night since his wife passed a few years back,” Josie said, going over to collect his trash. “Cancer, ya know?”
Sarah nodded and finished off the last of her favorite meal.
“Whew! You musta been half-starved kiddo.”
Sarah leaned to one side and reached into her jeans for the money. “How much do I owe you, Josie?”
“Mah!” Josie ripped the ticket from the pad and tore it in half. “After the week you’ve had, it’s on the house.”
“Thank you so much.” She slid her coat back on and hopped down off the stool. “They were delicious.”
“Not as good as your cookies, I’m afraid.” Josie tossed the soiled paper plate and cup into the large trash can behind her. “When you bringin’ in some more?”
Sarah stopped with her back to the door and flipped her hood up onto her head. “How about I bring some by in day after tomorrow?”
“Sounds fine,” Josie said in a husky tone. “You have a good night, now.”
“You, too.”
Sarah spun back out into the dark and strode up the street in the direction of her spinning laundry.
Sarah popped the door to her place and dropped the basket of clean clothes onto the floor against the wall. She flicked the lights on and kicked off her shoes and coat.
“Seven fifty-eight.” She leaned over the clock on the TV. “Dang it!”
She pulled the laundry basket across the floor and turned the on the tube. The opening credits to her favorite teen drama had just started.
“Thank goodness.”
Sarah folded her clothes as the James Dean wannabes comingled with the valley girls on her only escape from reality. “How is it that they have it so lucky out in Beverly Hills?” She stacked her undies into a neat pile on the blue recliner to her left. “What I’d give to have some of their problems.”
Her right hip crinkled as she leaned toward the coffee table and set her rolled socks down.
“Holy crap.”
She hopped up during the commercial break and jogged to her bedroom closet. Sarah pulled the small wad of tens out of her pocket and knelt down to an old blue backpack in the corner. She added her most recent take to the massive roll of money.
“Almost to a thousand.” Her face hardened in resolve.
She tucked the money roll back down in between her changes of clothes and a gallon-sized plastic bag bulging with cereal. Not much longer to go. She pounced back out in front of the TV as her show returned from its break. “Come on,” she said to the screen, “ask her out already.”
The annoying high-pitched ring of her cordless awoke Sarah from her slumber on the arm of the couch. The local evening news broadcast wrapped up as she rubbed the crust from her eyes.
“The Late Show is next,” the female announcer said as the screen faded.
BLEEP BLEEP
“All right already!” She sat up and pinched the phone between her ear and shoulder. “Hello?”
“Sarah?” her grandmother sniffled from the other end of the line.
“Gram---what’s the matter?” She sat up on the edge of the sofa. Her Gram rarely called, and she’d never heard her cry before.
Gram’s voice trembled as she spoke. “I’m sorry to bother you at this hour, dear, but it’s your great Aunt April.”
“It’s all right, Gram. What’s going on?”
“Sh-she’s gone, honey.” Her grandma’s weary heart broke as another wave of sorrow barreled over her.
“What?” Sarah covered her quivering mouth with her free hand. “We were just over there last weekend. She was fine.”
“I know, baby,” Gram said, regaining her composure. “It was a heart attack. They tried to revive her, but she died before the ambulance even got there.”
“I’m so sorry, Gram.” Sarah lost her battle to hold her pain at bay.
“It’s okay.”
Sarah cleared her throat and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water. “Mom’s still at work, but I’ll tell as soon as she gets in.”
“That’s fine, honey.” Her grandma’s tone warmed up a little. “We’ll probably have the viewing day after tomorrow. Just have your mom call me in the morning, okay?”
“I will, Gram.”
“Love you.”
“You, too.” The other end of the line clicked to a dial tone.
Sarah fell back into the couch and let her anguish have its time.