Authors: Ruth Ann Hixson
She pushed herself to her feet and shuffled off to the kitchen. Mitzi was there ahead of her waiting for her meal. Remembering her lesson from the previous morning she made toast and tea for her breakfast.
The last thing she felt like doing was making a trip to the Laundromat but the basket in the bathroom was full. It was almost noon when she backed the Oldsmobile out of the garage and pointed it toward town. When she returned with the wet clothes Mitzi pounced on her foot as soon as she stepped in the breezeway. She decided to let the kitten outside with her while she hung up the clothes. "Come along, kitty," she called as she opened the door to the back porch.
She glanced at the clock when she went back to the kitchen. 2:05 p.m. She felt dizzy and weak so she guessed she best eat something. Not sure how her stomach would react to food, she heated a can of chicken noodle soup and got herself a cup of tea. As she ate, she wondered how she would go on without Mark. She would continue to see him from time to time because he lived only a few hundred yards away. She didn't think she could bear it.
She pulled her tablet toward her and wrote that day's date. Then she began to write: I, Sherry Lynn Winnette, do this day set down my last will and testament.
Through the window she could see the mailman stop at the Blakely mailbox. After he stopped at hers, she went out and walked along the road and left the envelope in the neighboring mailbox. That was taken care of. It was with extreme sadness that she contemplated taking the coward's way out. She stopped and took the mail from her mailbox and walked with a heavy heart to her door.
She shuffled through the mail as she went through the breezeway. Mitzi greeted her as if she'd been gone all day. What would she do about Mitzi?
The mail contained applications she asked for, a letter of rejection, and a phone bill. "I'll have to pay that right away."
The return address on the last envelope was Bayshore Law Office. Sherry frowned. Why would she be getting something from Bayshore's? She filled a glass with water and took a pain pill. She tore open the envelope and took another pain pill. She took the folded paper from the envelope and stared at the image on the paper--Mark kissing a blond woman. Who could be so cruel as to plunge a knife into her already hurting heart?
She fumbled for another pill as she read the notation at the bottom. "Ha! Ha! You lose! I win! Elena!"
Rage swelled within her and she hauled back the glass in her hand spilling the water on the floor. With all the strength she possessed she propelled the glass across the room to crash against the basement door sending shards of glass flying through the air. Mitzi made a gray streak for the breezeway.
"Never!" Sherry screamed. "I'll never let that bitch have the last laugh!" She grabbed her favorite blue mug from the counter and drew back to send it after the glass. Trembling with fury, she stopped herself and set the cup on the counter. Maybe she was her mother's daughter after all. Breaking up housekeeping was something her mother would do when she let her anger take control.
Sherry walked over and closed the breezeway door so Mitzi couldn't get into the kitchen. She leaned against the door and fought her anger down until it solidified into a tight knot in the core of her being. She decided then and there she would not give up Mark without a fight. She better not ever meet up with Elena Bayshore or she would get more than a bloody nose. And whoever that blonde in the picture was, she better steer clear unless she knew more about karate that Sherry did.
"The Karate Kid from Newark is back!" she told her kitchen. Come hell or high water she was going to win Mark Blakely back.
She'd just finished sweeping up the broken glass and opened the kitchen door for Mitzi when the phone rang. She answered it hoping it was Elena but it was Frank.
"Are you okay, Sherry? This envelope you left in the mailbox scared me. You aren't planning to harm yourself, are you?"
"When hell freezes over," she shot back. "I wouldn't give Elena the satisfaction." She knew she'd have to give Frank an explanation. "It's just a precaution in case something happens to me. Mom would take over and those diaries would go to the highest bidder."
"I'll be over to talk to you tomorrow."
"I won't be home. I have an early doctor's appointment and some other appointments. I might as well do my shopping and put my application in at the hospital while I'm down in Lewistown. I'll call when I get home but it will probably be late. I'm sorry I gave you a scare."
"What should I tell Mark?"
"Nothing. I'll call him tomorrow night."
"What did you decide?"
"I'll tell him."
Chapter 20
Dr. Brighton looked over the forms Sherry brought her. "I am going to send this form back that you are not physically, mentally or emotionally ready to find a job."
"But how will I live. I have utility bills to pay."
"That's why I'm going to fill this form out the same way so you can get assistance for those things. I don't want you working until the end of November. That's when I want you to come back. She filled out the welfare form and handed it back to Sherry. "I must send the other form directly to the Department of Labor."
Sherry wasn't happy when she walked to her car. She had a half notion to just drive home but she really needed the energy assistance. She had almost an hour to wait. She was too tense to just sit in the car so she decided a walk was in order. The day was sunny but a chilly north wind made her pull her jacket collar up around her ears.
As she strolled along the sidewalk a sign with big red letters caught her eye. Anytime she saw the word FREE she stopped to check it out. The words on the sign in the window of a beauty salon proclaimed: FREE HAIRCUT To anyone donating their hair to make wigs for cancer patients. Sherry went inside. "Does that sign mean what it says?" she asked the beautician.
"It certainly does. I'll be with you as soon as I'm done here."
Sherry checked her watch. She had less than an hour. "I have an appointment at eleven."
The woman glanced at the clock on the wall. "We have plenty of time. There you go, Thelma. All done."
After Thelma left, the woman motioned Sherry to sit in her chair while she swept up the gray locks on the floor. "I'm Susan Banks," the stylist said. "You have pretty hair." Sherry already had her hair in a ponytail. Susan braided it and snipped it away. "How do you want your hair now?"
"Short," Sherry replied.
"Do tell. I mean what style."
"Whatever you think is appropriate. But nothing radical."
Sue stood back and studied Sherry's face. "A little heart shaped with freckles. It looks like someone sprinkled cinnamon across your cheeks and nose. How about a pixie cut? It would suit you just fine."
"Fine with me."
Sue snipped and clipped as Sherry watched in the mirror. Sue was a talker and always engaged her customers in conversation but Sherry seemed reticent. "How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
"I would have guessed sixteen. Do you have a boyfriend?"
"He found someone else."
"You aren't going to give up that easy are you?"
"No. I'm going to try to win him back."
"A word of advice. You can't do it in sweatshirts and jeans. You need some sexy clothes that will get his attention." She brushed away the hair from the back of Sherry's neck. "Dye your hair. You'd look good as a blond."
Sherry's trip to the assistance office wasn't as successful. She left very dissatisfied with the results. She would receive little help from them until she depleted her savings then she would get just $205 a month.
She drove to the bank and withdrew fifty dollars. That should be enough to buy clothes to entice Mark back into her life especially if she found some good bargains at the thrift store.
"Two dollars a bag today," the woman at the counter said when Sherry walked through the door.
"Good," Sherry said with a grin. "I can use a break." She picked up a bag and headed for the clothing racks. She spotted a burnt orange silky blouse with short sleeves. When she looked for a size tag she noticed how the light gleamed off it with colors shifting from dark orange to brown. She folded it and put it in her bag. She needed something to go with the silky blouse so she searched through the skirts. She took down a light brown faux suede mini skirt that was her size. She held it in front of her. "That won't cover much." She knew she'd never wear it in public but maybe she could wear it to get Mark's attention.
"A pair of shoes." Her sling backs were getting too worn. A pair of black suede flats were perfect. She found a pair of knee high brown boots with spike heels. She didn't even know how to walk in high heels but they went in her bag.
From the thrift store she went to WalMart. She went first to the office to apply for work. Then she headed for the candy aisle where she picked up two bags of candy kisses. Two large bags of plain chips went into her cart. She was tired of canned meat. Looking through the meat department, she found a packet with one top-of-round steak. She put it in her cart and checked out of the food section.
She took those purchases to her car and went back in to find the cosmetic section of the store. The array of hair dyes was overwhelming so she checked prices. She chose a brassy hue of blond and moved on to the women's underwear. She wanted a bra and panty set with a leopard print. She could find none her size but then she saw something that she liked better than the leopard print--zebra print. And it was her size.
On her way home, she stopped at the hospital to apply for whatever work they might have available. She didn't care what the doctor said. She needed a steady income.
Mitzi greeted her as if she'd been gone a week. She put her WalMart purchases on the table and went back for the bag from the thrift store. Two baskets full of apples sat on the garage floor beside a bucketful. On top was a note from Frank: Use the ones in the bucket first. They're drops.
It was already twenty minutes to four. To occupy Mitzi for a short time she fed her. She was hungry too because she'd skipped lunch. A look in her pantry turned up a can of Vienna sausages. She ate them as she read the instructions on the hair dye. She needed to do it before she had a chance to chicken out.
The upstairs bathroom was chilly despite the sun shining through the window. Sherry stripped to the waist, draped her old towel around her shoulders and went to work changing her hair to blonde.
She tried to keep herself busy until it was time to call Mark. She guessed around eight would be a good time. She fried her steak, cooked a potato and mashed it, and heated a little can of green beans. She lingered over her meal. Her confidence was fading. What if Mark was committed to the blonde in the picture? She had tacked it to the wall by the telephone to remind her why she was changing her looks.
She put off calling. Mark would be busy with his school work. Maybe he was in the shower. Maybe...She could find no more excuses and time was running out. It was nine o'clock and Mark retired early because he got up at four-thirty.
She dressed in her sexy outfit except for the boots. She couldn't walk in them. Instead of buttoning her blouse she tied it just beneath her bra. Filled with apprehension, she picked up the phone and punched in his cell number.
He answered on the first ring. "Yeah?"
Her voice was timid as she fumbled in her mind for the right words. "Mark, it's Sherry. Can you come over so we can talk?"
Silence.
"Mark?"
"It took you long enough to call. It's getting late."
"I...I'm sorry. I just thought maybe...I'd really like it if you'd come over. Or maybe tomorrow night."
Silence. Then he said, "I'll be over as soon as I get my shoes on."
"I'll turn the light on for you and unlock the door."
He disconnected without saying anything else.
After turning on the light and unlocking the door, she pulled on the boots and zipped them up to her knees. She tottered over to the sink and leaned against it positioning herself in what she hoped was a sexy stance. Her real reason for leaning against the sink was so she wouldn't fall off her boots.
She was shocked by Mark's appearance when he walked in the door. His looked like he hadn't slept in a week. The stubble on his face looked like he hadn't shaved either. He wore a gray T-shirt, black sweat pants and sneakers. He stared like he didn't recognize her.
She smiled. "How do you like the new me?"
He stood open-mouthed for a moment. His answer was scathing. "You look like a hooker!"
Sherry gave a slight shrug and pushed her breasts forward as she threw his words back at him. "Just getting in touch with my sexuality."
"I'll get you in touch with your sexuality," he growled and started toward her, his gait a bit uneven.
As soon as she smelled the beer on his breath she knew she'd make a mistake but it was already too late. He seized her by her upper arms with an iron grip, his fingers biting into her flesh.
"You're drunk!"
" 'Bout half." He leaned down an capture her lips for a hard, punishing kiss.
"Not like this, Mark." She tried to pull away. The smell of beer brought back memories of Randy when he tried to molest her.
He pulled on the single knot that held her blouse in place and slid it off her shoulders. She realized that while he was kissing her he was also moving her along to the dining room. His fingers fumbled with the elastic of her bra behind her back. "Where are the hooks for this thing?"
In different circumstances she would have giggled about that, but she saw nothing funny about the fix she was in. He found the front hook for her bra and undid it. The bra went to the floor. "What'd ya do with the mattress?"
She didn't answer. She tried to pull free but his hold on her arm was too tight. He pulled her along to the living room where he shoved her down on the mattress. The jolt sent shocks of pain through her rib cage and her back, momentarily leaving her breathless. She tried to kick him but he caught the heel of her boot.