Helen looked around, certain a woman had decorated the apartment. The flowered spread and draperies matched the pale green carpet perfectly. White wicker was feminine and not just for sunporches any longer. Even the bathroom matched the bedroom, with thirsty green towels and ankle-deep throw rugs. The shower, tub, and vanity were spotless, the chrome gleaming. Underneath the vanity were paper products, enough to last months.
One picture hung in the bedroom. Puzzled that someone would hang a picture of a lone pine tree in a bedroom, Helen studied it to see if there was some hidden meaning. At the base of the dark trunk she could make out a name. Edna Mae Trolley. Helen bit down on her lower lip. Edna Mae Trolley, whoever she was, had probably done the same thing she’d done when she gave her sketch to Mona. “As long as one person knows you’re alive and well, that’s all that matters, Edna Mae Trolley. I will treasure this picture because it’s obvious the pine tree has some deep meaning to you.
“This sofa is so comfortable, we can both sleep on it. Hop up, Lucie. We can eat in here off trays. I always wanted to do that. Now we can. Tonight we can sit here, watch television, and eat popcorn. God, this is so wonderful.” Lucie yipped her pleasure as Helen curled into the side of the wide sofa. Lucie wiggled and squirmed until she was next to her mistress. Moments later, both were asleep.
“Artie, when are the computers going to be up and running?” Isabel grumbled.
“I’ve had my people on it round the clock, Izz. It’s not as simple as you think it is. Three more days, tops. My people are going to help your people do all the inputting. You need to relax.”
“I’m not going to relax until I know Helen Ward is on-line. I want to show you something. She left a gift for me. At first I was angry. I was one step away from tossing her out on her ear until I thought about it. Tell me what you think, gentlemen.”
“She’s a hell of an artist,” Artie said.
“She got my good side. Made you look good, Izzie,” Gerry drawled.
“What else?” Isabel demanded.
“What else what? The dog is a perfect likeness. It’s kind of sad now that I look at it,” Gerry said.
“Men! The name. Look at the name!”
“So. It’s her name, Izz,” Artie said.
“Not anymore it isn’t. She’s Nancy Baker now. She’s supposed to think, act, and become Nancy Baker. This is what she does.”
“Jesus, Izzie, don’t you understand what she was doing? She had to leave something behind, something that said who she was. She may never become Helen Marie Stanley again. Leaving that picture behind means maybe there’s hope that someday she can be Helen again. That hope and her dog are all she has. Hell, even a dog marks his territory. Cats too. Listen, I know I couldn’t give up my life, my identity. I just couldn’t. I came into this life Gerald Davis and I plan on going out with the same name. I imagine Helen more or less feels the same way. What’s going on is for now. In her mind it isn’t forever.”
“I feel the same way,” Artie said.
“Now why did I know you were going to say that,” Isabel grumbled. “I’m having it framed.”
“I guess you were just talking to hear yourself.” Artie grinned.
“There’s something about Helen Ward that got to me. Maybe it was the middle-of-the-night call, although I’ve had hundreds of those.”
“It was the dog, Izzie. The dog and Helen. You can’t stand it when someone harms an animal any more than I can. They’re both going to be fine. You could have told her who you were. Not that it would have made a difference,” Gerry said.
“She has talent. I don’t think we should waste that talent. She told Mona she wants to design lingerie and possibly sell it on-line. She doesn’t have any start-up capital other than the money we’ve put in her bank account. I . . . I wanted to . . . ask if you two would approve of the foundation making a small loan to her to start up this fledgling enterprise. That way she could stay home with Lucie.”
“It always comes back to the dog. Sure,” Gerry said.
“It’s okay with me,” Artie said.
“She’s a hard worker. I could tell that right off. She knows how to clean a house, and she knows how to garden. She’s smart, too. That husband just beat her into the ground until she was afraid to do anything but breathe. Good, five thousand should do it. I’ll have the lawyers draw up the papers.”
“Five thousand isn’t going to get her past the post office, Izz. She’s also going to need a better computer than the one you gave her. I’ll build her one and ship it out next week. You okay with that?”
“Ten thousand and the computer,” Isabel said.
“Fifteen is more realistic,” Artie said.
“Then it’s fifteen,” Isabel said smartly.
“So that’s what this command breakfast was all about,” Gerry said.
“For God’s sake, Izz, you could have done this without us.”
“Yes, I could have, but when you’re dealing with a human life, no one wants to take sole responsibility. I make mistakes, too, as you well know. I guess . . . I want her to survive. She doesn’t know that black world out there, but she’s going to be learning really quickly. I just want to make it a little easier for her.”
“Any scuttlebutt on the husband, Artie?” Gerry asked.
“To my knowledge, no one has seen or heard from him. No one has called ComStar for a reference. You know those damn headhunters; they’re forever calling. Not a peep out of any of them. Legal said we had to give him severance, and the check cleared yesterday. Other than that, I know nothing.”
“Nothing is better than something,” Isabel said, as her index finger traced the outline of the little dog on the sketch Helen had left for her.
“If you need me, call,” Artie said. “I’ll need the address so I can ship the computer. I’ll put my people on it as soon as I get back to the office.”
“Thanks, Artie.”
“For you, Izz, anything. You know that.”
“I could use some help later this afternoon if you can spare the time, Izz,” Gerry said.
“I’ll be there. Any new pups?”
“Six.”
“Do you have homes for them?”
“Nope.”
“Then they’re mine,” Isabel said.
Gerry laughed. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Isabel smiled. It was wonderful to have friends.
6
Helen turned off the eleven o’clock news, satisfied that all was right in the world. At least for the moment. “Come on, Lucie, time to go on-line.”
The little dog scampered over to the small dining area that was now Helen’s in-home office. A brand-new ComStar computer and printer took up almost the entire table. The shelves on both walls, bare when she moved in, were filled with computer books, Xerox paper, printer cartridges, a separate fax machine, her textbooks for the night classes she attended along with all the small business papers and manuals she’d applied for with the Small Business Administration, and last but certainly not least, dog treats and chew bones to keep Lucie busy while she was on the computer. There wasn’t an inch of available space left.
It was her home, and she loved it, cluttered or not. It now looked like someone with an identity lived there; a real person, as she thought of herself these days. She’d spent the past weekend going to the flea market on Route 1 to buy knickknacks and green plants that had been bedraggled but were now showing signs of life with plant food and daily watering. Before long they would be lush and full. At least she hoped they would.
She’d spent twenty-nine dollars at the flea market, twenty-nine dollars she probably shouldn’t have spent. She’d weighed the decision up one side and down the other, finally opting to spend the money simply because it was her choice and it would brighten her life. Her on-line counselor told her everything in her life was about choices. She was right, too. Once you make a choice, you take responsibility for that choice and you live with it. Step One. That night she was working on Step Two of her one hour
of on-line counseling.
Helen turned on the computer and handed Lucie her first treat of the evening. She logged onto Internetx Express, typed in her password under the name of [email protected] with her on-line name of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or TTLS. She then e-mailed [email protected]. She waited for the Instant Message to appear in the upper-left-hand corner.
Helen typed slowly. She passed a few minutes with the daily pleasantries before Boots asked her first question.
“Are you still feeling overwhelmed?”
“A little, but I think I have a handle on it. I went shopping over the weekend. I spent $29 on plants and stuff to brighten up the apartment. I feel a little guilty, but I can economize somewhere else. I needed to do that.”
“Understood. How is the job going? Do you like it any better?”
“No, not really. I don’t understand how people can charge so much for sleazy apparel. The name of the store, in my opinion, is a joke. There is nothing fine about the merchandise they sell. The clientele leaves a little to be desired. I think the owner is satisfied with my work.”
“This is good, TTLS. You voiced an opinion, and you made a decision. I imagine it felt rather good. Once you get your own business going, you can leave the shop. Any progress on your fledgling business?”
“It really did feel wonderful, Boots. As to the business, I’m told a lot of it is word of mouth. I ordered cards, had some of my sketches put into a brochure. Once I’m more comfortable with the computer, I can make my own. I don’t know what it is about computers. I hated them even in school. I just wasn’t good at it. Then when I . . . Never mind, it isn’t important. I study the computer books every morning before I go to work. It’s a slow process, but I’m getting more knowledgeable by the day.”
“It all takes time. You have your business classes, your job, and your on-line counseling. It’s a full plate for anyone. Rome wasn’t built in a day. You have to learn to do one thing at a time and do that one thing well. It will fall into place. Cottage industries flourish in this country. How is TTLS2 doing?” Boots asked.
“She’s sitting right here next to me. She pretty much sleeps during the day while I’m gone. It’s working out. She misses me, but then I miss her, too. I come home for lunch and walk her.”
“That’s good. Now, tell me, how are you sleeping? Are you still having your fearful dreams? Do you still look over your shoulder when you’re walking on the street?”
“I still dream once in a while. Yes, I still look over my shoulder. Sometimes I’m afraid to open the mailbox. I don’t know why that is. I feel better than I’ve ever felt. Mentally, I’m a lot stronger now. I don’t exactly ooze confidence, but I am getting more confident with each passing day.”
“Do you think about him?”
“I try not to, but yes, at times I think of him and what I allowed him to do to me. I was so afraid. I feel anxious at times but not fearful. You don’t know this man, Boots. He will find me at some point.”
“No, TTLS, he will not find you. As long as you stick to the program, there is no way he can locate you. You must trust me on this.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Yes, TTLS, I do. I also know thousands of men just like him. Did you ever love that man?”
“I’m not sure. I just wanted to belong to someone. I wanted someone to care about me. I thought he did in the beginning. That feeling lasted for about three days, until I found out what he was all about. I should have left the first time he hit me. I didn’t because I had nowhere to go. The four hundred dollars I had saved wouldn’t have taken me very far. Daniel insisted I give up my job. I couldn’t go back to my mother. When someone tells you over and over he is going to kill you and then describes the ways he plans on doing it so he won’t get caught, you start to believe him. Fear is a terrible thing.”
“Yes, it is. You’re past that now. Do you miss the shelter?”
“Yes. I think about it every day. I tend to think a nunnery is like the shelter. No worries, your needs are taken care of. All you have to do is take care of your spiritual well-being. Nuns always look so serene and unflappable. I envy that. My ultimate goal is to be able to be serene and unflappable. I want to be strong and gutsy, too. Do you ever feel like that, Boots?”
“At times. Tell me, what do you think one of those unflappable, serene nuns would have done if she were in your position? Would she have done something about it, would she have prayed for guidance, what? Don’t misunderstand me. I have nothing against nuns.”
“I don’t know. They live among women. I imagine there are some women who became nuns for that reason.”
“Nuns live in very cloistered surroundings and lead very cloistered lives. If you were to take them outside of their realm, I think they would have a difficult time adjusting to the outside world. I don’t think they would remain serene and unflappable for very long. This is just my opinion. You see, that’s the reason we move our guests after sixty days. It is much too easy to fall into that safe, serene, unflappable trap. You have a whole new world you have to learn to deal with. It’s going to be whatever you make it. I’m just here to guide you along. Tell me, did you ever have your own bank account, you know, spending money of your own while you were married?”
“No. He . . . he handled all the finances. It was always cash in stores. I had to turn over the receipts. We had a lot of credit cards, but only Daniel could use them. They were all maxed out, and he would pay one off with the other. It was just a vicious circle. One time a dollar fell out of the zipper compartment of my purse, and I didn’t notice it. He went into such a rage, I ended up in the emergency room for six hours. I think it took me six hours at the flea market to spend that $29. I got such pleasure out of walking along, picking and choosing and finally deciding what to get. Do the . . . other women . . . are they getting a grasp on things better than me? Am I too slow, too . . . fearful? Is there some kind of time frame where I wake up one morning and suddenly realize I’m like Superwoman or something?”
“Each person is different. The flip side of that particular coin is some women are better at covering up. Everyone isn’t up front and in your face. Once again, TTLS, you can put this all behind you, but it is never going to leave you. Eventually it will be a very pale memory, but it will never go away. You need to know that and to accept it.”
“I do.”
“Good. Now, let’s get down to business . . .”
At the end of the second hour, Helen smiled when she signed off and shut down the computer. She loved “talking” to Boots, her on-line counselor. The smile stayed with her when she picked up Lucie, who was sound asleep on the chair next to hers. “Go get your leash. Five minutes and then it’s time for bed. It was a good night. We covered a lot of territory. I feel very good. Attagirl, Lucie. I didn’t think I would be on-line so long tonight. We spent almost two hours. I think Boots likes me. Quiet now. Everyone is sleeping.”
They were back indoors and bolted in less than ten minutes. Lucie scampered to the bedroom. She waited, her new mouse in her mouth. Helen giggled when she looked at her bed and all the toys Lucie had spread out. “There better be room for me.” Lucie immediately scattered the stuffed toys and took her place on the opposite pillow.
The small night-light in the socket near the floor cast a comforting glow so that Helen could see the dim outlines of everything in the room. She stared at it as though mesmerized as her mind wandered back in time....
Helen looked around the long narrow room of the trailer. It looked so trashy, and it smelled terrible. She’d done all she could with air fresheners and sprays, but nothing worked. The furniture was old and had deep-down smells that even soap and water could never get out. It was a mean-looking place, and she hated it. After today, she wouldn’t have to worry. She moved by rote then, emptying overflowing ashtrays, picking up beer and wine bottles and empty food cartons. She’d done the same thing yesterday and all the days before that. She often wondered what would happen if she didn’t cle
an it up. Would her mother or the man she lived with do it? Maybe when the trash was up to their knees they would kick it out of the way.
Since she was leaving with no plans of returning, it was important to Helen to leave the trailer tidy if not clean. “Where’s Harry?” her mother asked as she breezed in the door.
So that was what his name was. “I don’t know where . . . Harry is. Mom, I need to talk to you.”
“About what?” Phyllis Stanley asked as she popped the cap off a bottle of Budweiser and drank greedily.
“I’m moving out. Today. Actually, right now. You and . . . ah ... Harry can have the place to yourselves.”
Phyllis Stanley’s eyes turned mean as her lip curled. “Yeah, sure, move out. At least I won’t have to worry about you coming on to my man anymore. I could use some rent money. I thought the deal was you were going to get a job in the diner and help out a little. You owe me, kid.”
“What do I owe you, Mom? Nothing, as far as I can see. You never took care of me, I took care of you. I hate this place. I hate it that you bring strange men here who look at me like I’m a piece of meat. Can’t you see what they do, what they think? You work hard, I’ll never deny that. Where does all your money go? It certainly never went to me. All I ever had was hand-me-downs from the neighbors, food in cartons. You never bought me a hair ribbon or a new pair of shoes. I never had a date the whole time I was in high school. Do you know how bad I wanted to go to the senior prom? Even if someone had asked me, I wouldn’t have had the money to buy a dress. I don’t have one pleasant memory, Mom, and that’s sad.”
“Whine, whine, whine, ” Phyllis snarled, her heavily made-up face almost a caricature of something Helen had seen in the funny papers. “Where are you going?”
“I got a small efficiency. I’m going to work full time in a boutique and go to college at night. I want better than this, Mom. If I have to work my butt off, I will I just wanted to say good-bye.”
“Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out,” Phyllis screeched. “Do you care that I was counting on that hundred bucks a month you were supposed to pay in rent? Hell, no, you don’t.”
What You Wish For Page 6
