Authors: Cheryl Richards
“Well, businesses always need an influx of cash.
You know, Summer, restaurants are difficult to run successfully.”
So now I was Summer. Her tone was condescending,
though I knew she didn’t mean anything by it.
“Nino’s restaurant survived the last recession. I
think he’s doing better than average. You’re worrying for nothing.”
“You’re right. I guess she’s just my first baby
to marry and I want it to be right. Divorce isn’t nice, even when both parties
are in agreement.”
“Talk with her Saturday night. I’m sure she’ll
convince you she’s knows what she’s doing. Okay?”
“Okay. Did you girls want to go somewhere casual
or fancy?”
“Knowing Spring, it better be upscale. What about
that eclectic restaurant on Water? That’s close to your condo isn’t it?”
“Just around the block. Nice bar there too.” She
paused. “What does your father think?”
“I haven’t spoken to him recently but he’s always
loved Nino.”
“That’s right, how could I forget. He’s agrees
with your father to avoid arguments, right?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I won’t keep you dear. You’re probably
tired from work. See you on Saturday. Kiss. Kiss.”
“Love you, bye, Mom.”
My mom never says love you. For some reason known
only to her, it is taboo. My dad isn’t real free with that word either. I’m
probably emotionally crippled because of it.
I still was hungry after I hung up, so I
scrounged around for something and settled on a box of sugary cereal.
I joined Brandi on the couch. She had fallen
asleep, so I pushed her legs aside and sat down. Her candle was dripping wax on
the table so I blew it out. I slipped the remote out from beneath her waist and
flipped through the channels. An old movie starring Gene Tierney was about to
start. What great timing. I put my feet up on the coffee table and snuggled a
pillow close to my chest. I shoved my mouth full of cereal and waited for the
movie to begin.
Chapter
23
Friday,
February 17th
Friday can be a good day, or a bad day. It all depends
on the upcoming weekend. This was a good day. Date night, followed by a
promising Saturday of shopping and drinking.
Today I could wear jeans to work if I brought in
a can or package of food for the poor. I like to be charitable; however, I
wasn’t too many rungs up the ladder from the people I was helping. Nobody
wanted vegetables and I didn’t want to part with my cookies. Not much to choose
from, so I grabbed a couple of cans of vegetable soup. Perfect for a soup
kitchen.
I placed them on the counter and went back into the
bathroom to finish my hair and makeup. Just a little mascara, blush, and plum
lipstick to match my sweater. Hair looked a little crazy, so I twisted it and
clipped it in a sloppy up do. I’d have to fit in another shower before I went
out tonight.
Back in the kitchen, I took my lunch and the soup
cans and tossed them in my tote bag. I put on my white, ski jacket that made me
look like an enormous marshmallow and wrapped a red and black plaid scarf
around my neck. I felt in my pockets for my gloves, found them along with a
bunch of used tissues. I slipped my gloves on, shoved the tissues back in my
pockets, grabbed my tote from the floor, and I was ready to roll.
I’m usually not real energetic in the morning,
but the climb down three flights of stairs got my blood pumping. Surprisingly
enough, I wasn’t panting by the time I reached my car. No snow on the
windshield, so I hopped in, turned on the heat full blast and let the ice cold
air hit me in the face as I pulled out of the lot.
Today was payday, because the checks arrived two days
late. That meant I got to hand out checks as soon as I arrived to a bunch of
angry people. A line had started by the time I opened the office door.
Every check required a
signature. Every check picked up by a family member required a letter of
authorization. Half of the staff had questions on their overtime hours. I
shuffled them off to payroll.
When Shantel arrived, the box
of checks was close to empty.
I opened my check at my desk. No surprises. No
bonus for a great job. Just a pay stub and a hope and prayer that the money was
sitting in my bank.
By 11:30, I was exhausted. The
morning offered numerous interruptions, however I managed to get the Medicare
claims sent without any difficulties.
I picked up my coinsurance claims and some
envelopes and headed for Shantel’s desk.
“Hey, I’m here,” I said to her, tossing my stuff
on her desk. “Mine if I make a quit pit stop?”
“No, go ahead,” she said, “don’t want you to bust
a bladder.”
A few minutes later, I was back at her desk and
she was waiting with her coat on and purse in hand.
“I haven’t had a chance to ask you about last
night?”
“The fool never showed up, which is just as
good.” She turned to go. “See you later.”
Strange. Maybe Leroy got high as a kite and
crashed at some friend’s house. Just as well. One less problem to worry about.
I opened the can of soda I brought up with me and
put it far away from the calculator, close to the wall. In doing so, I knocked
my favorite pen behind her desk. Now it was in the land that time forgot. I
checked her drawer and pulled out another blue pen.
One thing about nursing homes, there never is a
shortage of pens. Every Tom, Dick, and Betty wanted a piece of the action, so
sales reps were constantly giving away free company pens. Some were shaped
oddly or the ink was an unusual color. My favorite, from a pharmacy vendor has
a nice soft, hot pink grip, one that will never touch my fingers again. I
wondered if Lloyd gave away free pens.
I heard the rustle of material and looked up. There
stood Gummy in her chocolate stained, yellow fleece pullover with embroidered
bluebirds. Her real name is Frances Walden; her nickname is courtesy of Gus.
Gummy’s short stature, osteoporosis, and sagging
skin give her a much older appearance than her seventy-five years. She has
large jowls that hang down and wiggle when she speaks.
She only wears dentures when
her son comes to visit, which is around four times a year. When he comes, he
always brings a large box of assorted dark chocolates candies. The rest of the
year, she gums her food.
Gummy creeps everyone out, especially me.
Unfortunately, Gummy thinks I’m her best friend. All I can say is that strange
people like to attach themselves to me. It’s a curse.
“Hi,” Gummy said, smacking her lips over her
gums.
“Hi Gum..ah Frances. What’s going on today?”
“Nuddin’ much.”
I half smiled and nodded, hoping she’d go away. She didn’t.
She pushed a box of chocolates through the
window. “Take a chocolate, my son brought them.”
I happened to know her son brought them sometime
before Christmas. They were probably white by now.
“No thanks, Frances. Don’t want to spoil my
lunch.”
“Take one. I won’t leave unless you do. It’s not
polite to refuse.”
She was one to talk etiquette. I knew from
experience that Gummy tried each piece of chocolate before she offered them to
anyone.
The first time she offered me
a chocolate, Gus was standing next to me. He goaded me into taking one, saying
how smooth and delicious they were. Figuring he was on the level, I reached
into the box without paying attention and pulled out one with half of the
chocolate sucked off, exposing the orange crème center. I can still see his
face reddening as he held in his laughter. He came close to busting a gut.
Served him right.
“I’d really like one, but I’m…” Think damn it.
“I’m, ah, diabetic.” Yeah, that’s it. Lie to the old lady. “Can’t eat
chocolate.”
“Oh,” she said disappointed. She took a slippery
piece from the box and placed it in her mouth. She wiped her fingers off on her
top, leaving fresh chocolate stains.
“You better go back now. Lunch is being served.”
“Okay. I’ll visit again.”
And she would, with the same box of chocolates.
I went back to work until the phone rang. I
answered it on the second ring.
“Sun, it’s Brandi. Sorry to call you at work but
I got offered that job. Should I take it?”
“How much are they willing to pay you? And what
are the benefits?”
“Let’s see, twenty percent discount on clothes,
even off clearance, health, sick and one week of paid vacation.”
“And pay?”
“Um, they agreed to $26,500 with a possible raise
in three months. So, what should I do?”
“Take it, Brandi. It’s a future for you and you
can’t beat that discount.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sun, I’ll call them back right
away.”
I said goodbye and hung up, wondering just how
soon I could use that discount.
The phones were slow, which for a Friday, is
fairly typical. Most of the calls are personal, which is frowned upon by
management. Being a bookkeeper, I get away with it, since I spend a lot of time
on the phone with residents’ family members.
I looked at the clock. Five more minutes until
Shantel came. Mentally I checked off what I brought for lunch. Peanut butter
sandwich, dill pickle, and yogurt. Strange combination but it would suffice. I
moved my can of soda side-to-side. Less than half left. Hopefully I had a spare
buck in my wallet. Occasionally I’ve been tempted to borrow from the petty cash
funds for the residents. I always stop myself. I knew the day I took out a
buck, Phyllis would decide to audit the account.
I saw Shantel by the front door, so I gathered my
belongings. I’d ask Gus later if he could move her desk so I could retrieve my
pen. Usually he’d only do it if I dropped a check back there, but that could be
arranged if necessary. I really, really liked that pen.
Gus sized up the situation. He stroked his chin, which
was sprouting a goatee, and gave me his ‘are you kidding me’ look.
“Sunny, that desk weighs a ton. How do you always
manage to drop checks behind it?”
Shantel gave me an eye roll. She watched me
accidentally drop it behind her desk ten minutes earlier. It took three tries
and The Hawk almost caught me the on the third attempt.
“I’m clumsy. I’d do it for you.” I gave him my
most charming smile.
“You have pickle breath,” he said. “Here.” He
offered me a Tic Tac.
I took it and hoped it removed the stench.
“Please, Gus? I’ll help you push it.”
“Jesus H. Christ on a popsicle stick,” he said,
“No wonder you’re still single. You’re a pain in the—”
“Fine. Forget it,” I pouted.
He gave me that defeated look
guys give you when they realize there is no use arguing. He sighed. “Stand
back.” He put all his weight into the desk and it moved an inch. He tried again
and moved it another inch.
I gazed down into the gap. The lost check was
resting on my pen. I looked around the receptionist area and saw a yardstick. I
picked it up and stuck it behind Shantel’s desk. With a little maneuvering, I
slid the check up the desk until I could reach it. Then I tapped at my pen
until it came out. I reached down and picked it up.
Gus looked at me with his arms crossed. “You just
wanted that pen. I can tell by the look on your face.”
“What?” I said innocently.
He pushed the desk back, with as much force as he
could muster.
He wiped his forehead. “You owe me.”
I pulled a can from the
charity food bin. I glanced at the label. “Navy beans?”
“Don’t think so,” he said.
“All right. I’ll buy you a soda.”
“Now, before you conveniently forget.”
I dramatically sighed and went to my office
setting my pen in the center of it. I opened my bottom drawer, dug around on
the bottom of my handbag and managed to scrounge up the necessary change. I
took it back to the receptionist area.
“Here,” I said.
“Thanks, but you can keep the lint.”
“That’s a bonus.”
Shantel handed me the check and I returned to my
office. That little caper wasted thirty minutes; only thirty more to go.