SNOW GLOBE

by Jeanne Skartsiaris

  He couldn’t work the chair lever, so Aja set the dishes down on a table and went to help. “Is she okay?” Aja hesitated when she got closer.

  The woman’s eyes fluttered open. “Lauren, is that you?”

  “No, Buttercup.” Mr. Jensen looked at Aja. “Lauren’s our daughter.” He turned back to his wife. “This is the new girl who works in the dining room.” He brushed a thin wisp of hair off his wife’s wrinkled face. “She looks just like Princess Buttercup, too.” He glanced at Aja. “The Princess Bride is one of our favorite movies. But I was calling my princess Buttercup long before the movie came out. It’s as if they made the movie about us.” He turned to his wife and whispered affectionately, “As you wish.”

  Realizing the woman was alive, Aja moved next to Mr. Jensen and adjusted the chair to a sitting position. Mrs. Jensen almost fell completely forward with the movement. “Oh, no,” Aja said, and grabbed the old woman’s shoulder to steady her. Aja could feel every bone and almost jumped back in horror.

  Mr. Jensen helped her sit upright and opened a tray of the food, almost spilling it over with his trembling hand. He then filled a spoon. His hands shook so much he dropped the mushed spoonful on the chair before it reached Mrs. Jensen’s mouth.

  Aja wanted to run back to the dining room, the scene so pathetic it scared her. Mrs. Jensen’s cheeks were sunken in, she could barely open her eyes, IVs hung on a pole next to the chair. Aja drew a deep breath and took the spoon from Mr. Jensen and brought it to his wife’s lips. Like an infant, the old woman ate a small amount and dribbled out the rest.

  I’m going to throw up, Aja thought.

  “Isn’t she beautiful?” Mr. Jensen asked.

  Are we watching the same movie? She looks like a wrinkled prune with eyes.

  Aja hesitated, took a napkin and wiped the food away and offered another spoonful, fighting a gag reflex.

  “You are an angel, young lady,” Mr. Jensen whispered as he took a seat next to his wife and held her paper-thin hand.

  Chapter 7

  Sitting in Dumpster Dempsey’s class the next day, Aja thought about the Jensens. She was touched by his affection for his wife but couldn’t imagine being that old and not seeing the flaws in each other. Weren’t they grossed out when they kissed? Aja looked at the taut skin on her arm and considered how it would look wrinkled and bony.

  She’d almost gotten fired last night because she’d been at the Jensens too long. Poor Janie handled the desserts and coffee refills by herself. Mrs. Poston was armed with fresh criticism as soon as Aja returned to the dining hall.

  “Breaks aren’t allowed during the dinner rush,” Mrs. Poston said. “You young people have no respect.”

  Janie, frazzled by serving alone, was still glad that Aja had helped the Jensen’s. “I was going up after dinner to check on them,” Janie said. “They’re both so frail. I hope Mr. Jensen ate something.”

  “Are you planning on joining us this morning?” Mrs. Dempsey asked, jolting Aja back to reality. She stood over Aja and said, “You look like you’re in another world.”

  Aja cast a sideways glance at her teacher but didn’t respond.

  “Maybe she’s using her psychic powers to find out the answers on the test,” one of the kids yelled. “Oh, wait, that’s your mom who’s the psycho.”

  Mrs. Dempsey chuckled and didn’t admonish the boy. “Aja, do you want to take this test today?” She leaned closer and stage whispered, “You’re already so far behind in your work I’m not sure you’re ready.” She stood taller. “Did you read the material?”

  Aja, slumped in her chair, felt defiant. She wanted desperately to kick Dumpster in the knees and watch her fall like a turtle on its back. “Let me take a look at it and I’ll see if I feel like taking it.” Aja held her hand out for the paper.

  “You can leave your attitude at the door or in Mr. Carlisle’s office,” Mrs. Dempsey said.

  And you can shove your attitude up your fat butt. Aja bit her tongue. The thought of having to go to summer school if she didn’t graduate made her keep her mouth shut. “I was planning on taking it today.” Glaring at Dempsey, Aja continued to hold her hand out for the test.

  “Well, good luck with it,” Mrs. Dempsey said as she put the test on Aja’s desk face down.

  Aja turned the pages over, looked at the test. “Romeo and Juliet.” She’d studied Shakespeare in ninth grade while living in Boston. Her English class in Ohio, in tenth grade, started to touch on the Bard when they moved to Georgia. The school system there was years behind what she’d already done. By the time they got to Texas, the work was so different she’d gotten tired of trying to keep up with the curriculum. Her elementary years were the same, moving almost every year to another state, thanks to her mother’s free spirit and a determination to try everything and live everywhere. Luckily, the planned moved to Antarctica to save the seals was scrapped because of the lack of a school system.

  Aja yearned for northern California. She had vague but happy memories from when she lived there.

  “Are you going to stare at the test or take it?” Mrs. Dempsey still hovered over Aja.

  “It’s hard to concentrate with you standing over my shoulder,” Aja shot back.

  “Would you rather take it in Mr. Carlisle’s office?” Dempsey snorted.

  “No, I doubt he knows the answers,” Aja said. A few of the kids snickered.

  “Quiet!” Mrs. Dempsey shouted and began to hand out the rest of the tests.

  Aja took a pencil and started working. Unrequited love. She thought of the Jensens again. Would Romeo and Juliet have stayed in love, or would they have divorced and fought over who got custody of the brats? She sighed. No, they would have been in love forever, just like Mr. and Mrs. Jensen.

  Chapter 8

  Later at work, Aja piled iceberg lettuce on plates, making sure each had a wedge of tomato and a sprinkle of carrots. She stacked the plates on a large tray and headed to the dining room to serve them. Mrs. Poston’s drink order had gone much better today, and the woman had been less critical.

  “Great job, thanks,” Janie said, as she started brewing coffee. “I’ll take care of the soup.”

  “Have you seen the Jensens today?” Aja asked, wondering if Mrs. Jensen was better.

  Janie shook her head. “I doubt they’ll make it down tonight.”

  Romeo and Juliet, Princess Buttercup and true love, Aja thought. “I hope Mrs. Jensen’s still alive. She looked real scary.”

  “I’ll check on them later,” Janie said.

  Aja shifted the heavy tray and pushed through the doors to the dining room. She stopped short when she saw Walker at a table with his grandparents. A beautiful girl sat next to him.

  He looked as if he’d been caught doing something wrong.

  “Aja, hi.” He couldn’t look her in the eye. “These are my grandparents, and this is Kendall. “

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Aja said, the tray weighing heavy on her shoulder. She tried not to look at the beautiful girl next to Walker.

  “Oh, you must be the new girl. We’re glad to have you,” Walker’s grandmother said. “You’re busy, but please come by and say hello when you can.”

  Walker’s grandfather smiled but didn’t say anything. His gaze went from one face to another, as if trying to take in the mood of each person.

  Aja set the tray down on a serving buffet and began to hand out the salads.

  When Aja set the plate of salad next to Walker’s grandfather, she asked him what kind of dressing he wanted. He looked helplessly at his wife. His lips moved, but Aja didn’t hear him speak.

  “How about Italian tonight, Charles?” Walker’s grandmother said to Aja as she patted her husband’s arm.

  Aja began to see different pictures of Walker’s grandfather in her own head. First young and vibrant, then words, incoherent, jumbled her brain. She worked to shut off the vision, afraid to let it play out.

  Aja turned to Walker and asked what kind of dressing he wante
d. He looked at his anemic salad and answered, “Ranch.”

  “I’ll have oil and vinegar on the side,” the beautiful girl said, but she pushed her plate away from her. “Is this lettuce brown?” She picked up a wilted leaf with her long, elegant and perfectly manicured fingers.

  “Then don’t eat it,” Walker snapped.

  “China girl, my table needs some decaf.” Mrs. Poston waved her hand at Aja. She sat at a round table with a few other women and seemed to hold court over them.

  The dinner rush kept Aja so busy she didn’t have a chance to speak to Walker. Before they served dessert, Janie said, “Did you see Walker’s girlfriend? I’m surprised she’s eating here. Usually she sticks her nose up at anything we serve.”

  “Does she come here often?” Aja was disappointed in herself that she’d not sensed Walker had a girlfriend.

  Janie shrugged. “I don’t see her much, but when she’s here, she’s usually rude to everybody.” Janie looked thoughtfully at Aja. “I don’t know Walker’s story, so I’m not sure how serious they are.”

  “I didn’t ask,” Aja said, putting plates on a tray.

  “You didn’t have to.” Janie smiled.

  Everybody’s a psychic, Aja thought cynically.

  After work, Aja headed to her car in the dark parking lot. She saw Walker and Kendall under the portico. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could tell that they were arguing about something.

  It’s for the best, Aja thought. Glad she hadn’t invested her heart in Walker. Besides, Aja felt like she couldn’t hold a candle to the sleek young woman. They were a beautiful couple. Aja sighed.

  She got in her car and started it. The exhaust popped like a gunshot. She wanted to sink into the cracked, vinyl upholstery but couldn’t help smiling when she saw Kendall jump like a scared rabbit at the noise.

  She headed out of the parking lot, chugging and clunking. A car in the lot turned its headlights on as she drove by. She got a sick feeing when she realized it was the Freddy Kruger cop watching her as she pulled out.

  Chapter 9

  “Aja, if you miss any more school, you’ll have to go to summer school,” her mother said as she stood over Aja’s bed the next morning. “I’ll leave it up to you if you want to sleep in. I know you’re tired from work.” Her mom’s usual attitude: do what feels right, let the universe guide you—which was why Aja’s absentee rate was so high.

  “I’m getting up.” Aja rolled over and stretched. The last place she wanted to go was school. She spent a few minutes trying to rouse her brain; she remembered Walker’s stunning girlfriend, and Freddy Kruger following her home. He’d kept on driving when she turned into her driveway, but Aja felt violated anyway.

  The news was on their tiny analog TV in the kitchen. Her mom buttered a piece of sprouted whole grain toast for Aja. “Here, you need to eat something.” She put a plate in front of Aja. “Have you paid your counselor back the money yet?”

  “No, I will when I get my check.”

  “Please get it done soon. I don’t want a black cloud of bad energy around you because of it. You’re too smart for that.” She sat across from Aja and sipped on coffee. “That awful police officer came by while you were at work. I told him that no charges had been filed, so back off. I also let him know I’ll file a complaint against him if he keeps harassing us.” She shuddered. “He gives me the willies.”

  Aja started to say that he’d followed her home, but stopped. Knowing her mom, she’d be at the police station raising a ruckus, filing orders against him and probably picketing outside the station citing police abuse. Her mom fought for any cause and looked for any excuse for a protest. She lived for righteous causes. Aja didn’t need the aggravation or embarrassment. “I gotta run,” Aja said, standing. “I’m working tonight, too, so I won’t be home after school.”

  “Okay, honey. Go out and change the world.” Her mom smiled. It was her favorite catch phrase. “I think working at the assisted living center is great for you. Take time to talk to the people there.”

  “Yeah, I know. So far, they’re all hard of hearing, rude, or pass gas all the time.” Aja opened the screen door and thought of the Jensens.

  “Everybody has a light in them. Try to find it.” Her mom gave her a hug. “I have some clients later this afternoon, so be quiet if you do come home.”

  Aja fought to stay awake in English. Working late at such a physical job was wearing her down. Her arms ached from lifting the trays, and her feet throbbed from the cheap shoes.

  Mrs. Dempsey squeezed through the desks, handing out the Romeo and Juliet tests, offering comments to each student. “Good job. Needs a little work.” When she got to Aja’s desk, she slapped the paper facedown, saying nothing.

  Aja peeked at her score and smiled when she saw her grade: ninety-seven. She could see the only points off were on the essay section, where Mrs. Dempsey was able to offer her own opinion, and where Aja could read between the comments that she didn’t deserve this grade.

  “So did you cheat, or what?” Aja heard a voice behind her. Her face burned, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she flipped the test over with the grade on top and stared at the front of the classroom.

  In between classes, Aja felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. It was a text from Walker. Can I see you later? She stopped in the hallway, forcing other kids to go around her, and texted back. No, I’m working. She snapped her phone closed and went to her next class. The phone buzzed again as she took a seat, but she ignored it.

  Later, at work, Aja ducked into a bathroom and changed clothes. She only had the one outfit, and her shirt was getting gamey. She’d not had time to do laundry. As she laced her cheap shoes, Aja thought she felt another blister pop. She stopped by the mirror to put her hair up. She was so tired it showed in her whole body. Her long blonde hair was greasy, and her shirt had a chocolate stain from the cake she’d brought to the Jensen’s apartment the other night. She thought of Walker and his perfect, shiny girlfriend complaining about the brown salad leaves. Please, would Kendall’s hair even get dirty? She and Walker looked like they were meant to be together. The perfect couple. Aja stuffed her school clothes in her backpack and ran out of the bathroom.

  “China girl, help me out here.” Mrs. Poston stood in the lobby of the residence home, holding a small box and a stack of mail. “Carry this to my room.” She handed the box to Aja.

  “I’d love to help Mrs. Poston, but Janie’s expecting me.” Aja glanced at her watch. “Ten minutes ago.”

  “Then she can wait a few more minutes.” Mrs. Poston walked ahead, flipping through the stack of mail. “You need to be more dependable.”

  Aja sighed and dutifully followed the old lady, surprised at the spring in the woman’s step. Mrs. Poston’s hair was a helmet seared with a single flip of a curl in the front. Aja thought if she touched it, the hair would break into pieces. She wondered how she slept at night without messing it up—if she slept at all since she was always cranky.

  “Bills, junk and catalogs,” Mrs. Poston said waving the mail. “You young people don’t write letters anymore. Everything is science fiction now. Phones that take pictures and computers that do your work. Lazy, lazy.”

  It took a few minutes before they reached Mrs. Poston’s apartment, and Aja knew Janie was cursing her by now. “Here you go, Mrs. Poston. I really need to run.”

  “You will excuse yourself properly after you put the box inside,” Mrs. Poston said with a raised eyebrow. The alcove to her door had a small table decorated with an eyelet doily and a fake potted geranium on top. She lifted the plant and took a hidden key from under it and opened the door. “Set it on the dining room table.” Mrs. Poston waved her inside and put the key back under the pot.

  Aja ran in and placed the box on a table in a small kitchen. Mrs. Poston’s apartment was neat and clean, not a speck of dust anywhere, and it felt like the thermostat was set to a searing ninety degrees. “Okay, I’ll see you at dinner.” Aja dashed to the do
or.

  “What are we having tonight?” Mrs. Poston asked.

  “I don’t know yet.” Aja fidgeted, ready to sprint. “But I’m sure Janie needs my help. Bye.” She ran out before Mrs. Poston could say anything else.

  Janie was busy filling water glasses when Aja ran into the kitchen. She looked at the clock, then at Aja.

  “I’m sorry, Janie. Mrs. Poston held me hostage, and I couldn’t break away.” Aja grabbed an apron and took a bucket of lettuce from the fridge.

  Janie sighed. “I’d hoped to bring the Jensens something before the dinner rush started. Mrs. Jensen’s not doing well and really should be in the hospital.”

  “Then why doesn’t she go?” Aja asked.

  “Mr. Jensen says he can take better care of her here, but he’s about to run himself into the ground.”

  “His hands shake so bad he couldn’t even hold a spoonful of food steady when he tried to feed her the other night,” Aja said. She looked around the kitchen. “You go. I’ll take care of the soup and salad.”

  “No, there’s too much,” Janie said.

  “I’ll be fine. You’ll be back before the main course.” Aja grabbed a tray and a stack of salad plates. “What could go wrong?”

  Chapter 10

  After Janie left to go to the Jensen’s with dishes of food, Aja and Gabe, the cook, slapped lettuce on each plate and garnished each with tomatoes and carrots. She could already hear voices out in the dining hall. She grabbed a pad to write the orders down so she wouldn’t forget, heaven forbid, Mrs. Poston’s order. She grabbed two pitchers of water and headed into the dining room, where most of the tables were already occupied.

  “We thought you’d deserted us,” Mrs. Poston yelled across the room. “What’s taking so long?”