ARR 1988 - Flipbook - Page 18
come down? How in hell do they expect us little old folks to get by if they keep
raising the prices?" No one answered as she grumpily put her precious
money down and stalked out.
The sight of some children playing in the park brightened her mood
and she sat on a nearby bench to watch and delight in their antics as they
climbed trees and rolled in the sparse grass. She stayed a long time,
exchanging pleasantries with a few ladies who, like her, came out of their
cocoons for a few hours during the day to wander and visit before dusk forced
them back into the safety of their homes.
While watching the children she thought back to the days, so long ago,
when Scotty was little and she used to bring him to this same park when they
lived across the way. He had climbed these same trees and chased butterflies
through the bushes. An image of him in a white sailor suit scrambling
through the bushes after a colorful butterfly flittered into her mind and
hovered there.
She left the park when her backside began to complain about the
hardness of the bench. She wandered down the street eating chocolates and
washing them down with a tepid cup of coffee from the hamburger stand.
Then a stop at the deli for a six-pack and into Angelo's for a quick one.
The few people at the bar ignored her as she stood and drank her beer.
Angelo nodded curtly as he slid her second beer down the polished bar. She
knew he didn't like her much because she had a few too many at times and
wept sadly as distant memories flooded through her and it was almost too
much to bear as today was blotted out and yesterday came rushing back to
overwhelm her. Angelo had escorted her to the door a few times and told her
to go home and sleep it off. She understood and forgave him since it wasn't
that he was cruel, just that it was bad for business to have a drunken old lady
weeping at his bar.
Finally, it was dark. Her day was over and there was nowhere to go
except back to the apartment. She felt Mrs. Rapinski watching as she
fumbled with the key to the front door.
"Nosey old nag," Mary B. whispered to herself. "The Holy Ghost
himself couldn't slip by that door without her knowing it." The image of Mrs.
Rapin ski wrestling with an unseen holy spirit over came her until she leaned
against the wall and shook with silent laughter.
In her apartment she switched on the lights and sang, "Wake up,
darlin's. Mama's home. We're going to have a nice evening of TV and beer."
She drank all but one of the six-pack, carefully stowed it in the fridge before
she staggered to her lumpy bed and fell asleep in the middle of her nightly
prayers.
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