by Alta Hensley
“I wasn’t hungry. I popped some popcorn and watched some movie about a vampire who sparkled. Damn movies these days. What ever happened to Dracula?”
“Virgie,” I said with a sigh as I placed the dishes in the dishwater. “You can’t live off of popcorn. You need more sustenance than that when you take your meds at night.” I looked over my shoulder at her as she reached for her knitting and began working on whatever was her next creation like she did every day, all day. “Did you take your medication last night?”
“Yes, yes,” she said, not looking away from the yarn.
“Why do I not believe you?” I asked as I walked over to the pill containers on the counter. I opened up the weekly medi-set to see if she had, and not only had she not taken last night’s pills, but she hadn’t taken this morning’s. “Virgie, your meds are still in here. You have got to take them. I set them all up for you to try to make it simple, but you have to remember.”
“Oh, I remember. I just don’t feel like it. All those damn medications are going to pickle my insides. I don’t want to be preserved like some armadillo in a taxidermist store. I want to die someday. Those damn doctors want to turn me into a mummy.”
“Yeah, well those damn doctors are going to put you in a nursing home if they think you aren’t taking care of yourself. Elder protective services have already been called once. You want them back out here?” I poured the colored pills in my hand and brought them to where Virgie sat. I handed them to her, reached for her glass of Coke and gave that to her too. “And when is the last time you drank water? You can’t live off of popcorn and Coke, Virgie.”
She took the pills and grumbled, “I don’t see why the hell not. I’m old. I can do whatever I want, and ain’t nobody telling me I have to spend the rest of my days in an old person’s home. This is still a free country, and this house is mine. I will die here no matter what some suit-wearing biddy says from the state.”
“Well, I would like to keep you around.” I gave her a wink. “I don’t want to have to find another job.”
She smiled. “You shouldn’t be here taking care of my old bag of bones.”
“Yeah, well, last I checked, there weren’t a lot of jobs floating around Muckaluk.” I patted her shoulder playfully and then walked back into the kitchen to continue cleaning.
“I’m serious,” she said while she continued to knit. “You need to get out of this town.”
“Well, unless a dust devil sweeps me away, I don’t exactly see that happening anytime soon.”
“You should go to New Orleans. I always loved living in New Orleans.”
I scrubbed away, waiting for her to tell me the same stories she always repeated about her days living on Bourbon Street until she met her husband. She had thought she would someday become a famous blues singer. From all her stories, it had sounded like she had made a pretty good living doing so.
“I don’t sing the blues, Virgie.”
“Well, the waitresses at those joints made good money too. Sometimes better money than I did.”
I continued to clean the kitchen, preparing to listen to her ramble like any other day, but then her talking ceased which instantly had me freezing and walking over to her to check if everything was all right.
“Virgie? What’s wrong?” She was staring at me in silence, appearing lost in thought. She didn’t say anything but just stared at me—actually through me as if her mind had gone off in a different direction. “Virgie?”
After several moments, long enough that I wondered if she was having a stroke or something, she finally spoke. “You do need to leave. And you do need to go to New Orleans.”
I patted her leg and stood upright to get back to work.
“I’m serious, Anita. You do. In fact, the boarding house that I rented a room in is still there. The owner became a dear friend of mine. She passed several years ago, but her daughter took over the business. I’m not sure if she is running it the same, but we should check. You could rent out a room and find a job in New Orleans. You could, and you should.”
“See what happens when you don’t take your medications? You start talking like a mad woman.” I shook my head and walked back to the kitchen.
“Hush now, and listen to me.” I heard the squeak of the Lazy Boy chair as Virgie got out of it and shuffled her slippered feet to me in the kitchen which was something she had never done before. All our conversations were done either on the porch swing or by her chair. Virgie wasn’t exactly an active and mobile person. “This place is eating you up. Your meemaw and pappy are gone, and there is nothing keeping you here.”
“You are here.”
“Again, shut your mouth and listen to me. That nurse is scheduled to come see me several times a week now.”
“You hate that nurse,” I countered. “You said she smells like Pine-Sol.”
“Well she does, but that’s not the point. Stop interrupting me,” Virgie scolded as she tapped my lips with her bony finger. “So, as much as I love you, child, I don’t need you. And I’m not going to stand by and let you rot here right alongside of me.”
I chuckled. “And you think I should go to New Orleans?” I rolled my eyes and turned to finish the dishes.
“Yes, it’s a beautiful city and perfect for new beginnings. There are so many places to get a job in those bars until you get your footing. And if you can still rent out a room like I did—”
“It’s a nice sounding dream,” I mumbled.
Virgie clapped her hands and walked over to the phone hanging on the wall. She was old school and didn’t believe in giving up her landline and relying on a cell phone. Underneath the phone was her station of papers, pens, and her address book. “I’m going to find that number. I will bet money that my friend’s daughter is still running that house as an apartment building rather than a large house. She was such a sweet girl, and still sends me a Christmas card every year in honor of her mother. She knew her mother always did and wanted to keep that up. Love that child,” Virgie said, more to herself than to me as she flipped through her address book. Clearly finding the number, she picked up the phone and started dialing. “Let’s hope she’s there.”
I shook my head and reached for the Windex to clean the counters as I tried to not pay attention to Virgie talking on the telephone. I suppose I could have eavesdropped to see what was being said, but I decided to collect the garbage and take it out to the dumpster in the side yard instead. Virgie was losing her mind. Like I could just pick up and leave for New Orleans.
Tossing the garbage into the dumpster, I looked toward the horizon seeing storm clouds moving in. It was odd to see thunder boomers forming so early in the day. For a change, the storm may actually make it our way. It was something to look forward to, I supposed. Lightning and thunder to set my backdrop as I had Roy tattoo a string of poppies along my hip.
“Anita!” Virgie called from the house, pulling me from my thoughts. “Come in here. Where are you, child?”
I walked back into the kitchen wondering what crazy idea she wanted to chatter about now.
“I just got off the phone with Marie St. Claire, my friend’s daughter. I was surprised she had never married. I thought for sure her name had changed. A woman of her age and not to be married…” Virgie paused, shook her head, and then continued. “Never mind that. Anyway, she said she is indeed running the boarding house and even has a room available. It shares a bathroom with two other rooms, but she said the tenants are young women and are nice. But the good news is she has a room. She even said the other women living there might be able to find you a job. They all work together at a bar in town.”
“Virgie…”
She raised her hand. “Don’t try to make me sound like a loon. I may be, but I don’t know why I haven’t thought of this before. There is no sound reason why you should stay here. There really isn’t. You have no reason to not go to that piece of shit home of yours, pack a suitcase and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I can’t just leave
for New Orleans. On a moment’s notice? You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? Because you have a tattoo session?” She huffed. “I think stinky Roy can do without you.”
She was serious. Virgie really expected me to move to New Orleans as if it were as simple as going to the grocery store. “When and how exactly do you see this all happening?” Maybe I shouldn’t humor her, but then a part of me was curious as to how she envisioned this all going down.
“Now. You go today. You stay at Marie’s. A single room with no bathroom isn’t ideal for long, but it will be good until you get a paycheck.”
I stopped cleaning and stared at the woman who really did appear and sound serious. “Virgie… I can’t just pick up and move to New Orleans today! Not today or anytime soon. I don’t have the money or the means to just take off. I even have to use your car to get groceries. I don’t have the funds to just pick up and move to another state.”
“Yes, you do because I am giving it to you. Consider it your severance pay. I’m firing your ass.” She smiled so big that her entire face lit up. “You have to be spontaneous in life, Anita. When I was your age, I lived life. Nothing held me back. I have memories that I will forever cherish because I didn’t let fear get in the way of my choices. Sure, not all my decisions were good, and actually many were downright foolish, but at least I lived. You, Anita, need to live. Jump off the cliff, even if it means crashing down below.”
I patted her upper arm. “You aren’t firing me, and you don’t want me to leave. I appreciate you calling your friend and trying to make this happen, but this isn’t in my cards right now. Maybe someday, but not now.”
It was pure insanity is what it was.
“I am dead serious. You are fired, child. And I’m going to give you enough money for a month’s rent, the bus ticket, and some spending money for food and such. But you will have to get a job quickly, which I’m sure you will be able to do. Like I said, Marie said the other women might be able to help with that.”
“I have the trailer and my belongings and—”
“I will look over it. No worries there. And let’s be real, Anita. You aren’t fooling me with this act. You don’t give an ounce of care about that trailer nor the items in it. You’ve told me yourself how you just wished you could pick up and leave with just the clothing on your back.” Virgie walked over to her purse. “Come on. You need to go pack some of your stuff and drive me to Winnemucca so I can get to the bank before they close. You can catch the Greyhound there too.”
“Wait,” I said as Virgie slipped on her shoes that were sitting by the door. This was the fastest I had ever seen the woman move. “You really are serious, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “Damn straight I am. You should have done this the minute your meemaw and pappy died. And I should have given you the boot of courage to make it happen. When I was your age, someone did this for me. Consider this as my act of paying it back, and you can do the same for some young woman when you have a chance.”
“Someone paid for you to go to New Orleans to be a singer?”
“Yes, to follow my dreams.”
“I don’t have any dreams,” I argued, feeling a panic attack knocking at my psyche. “I have no dreams to follow.”
Virgie stopped and studied me for several moments with sadness—or pity—in her eyes. “Well, it’s about time you get some. Everyone needs dreams. Not just nightmares.”
3
Anita
When it rains in the desert, it stinks. Most people love the smell of it. The smell of rain, they say. Well, rain smells like dirt. Dust. Maybe it smells different in other parts of the world, but in the Nevada desert, it smells dirty. It forces me to breathe out of my mouth like I do in gas station bathrooms because I hate the smell so much. And I always feel like I have to keep this odd fact about me secret because everyone is always inhaling deeply and gushing over how much they love the smell of rain. What would they have thought if I actually answered honestly and said I thought it smelled bad? Told them that I would rather smell sewer… well, maybe not sewer, but the same idea.
No, I hated the smell of rain.
But I did love when it rained. I loved the sound of it hitting the roof of the trailer as I would lie in bed. It soothed me. I loved the way it ran down the dirty windows, streaking them with long trains of water. I loved the puddles it formed on the dry desert land. I also loved that whenever it did rain, the wind usually picked up. The thunder would boom in the distance with cracks of light breaking the sky.
I also loved how the rain made people happy—especially living in the desert. I think it was our basic human instincts of survival. Our cores knew Mother Nature was keeping us alive. So people rejoiced. Rain had a way of cleansing everything. From the dirty town I lived in, to the asphalt of the highway that had people driving right past us. Rain could make the ugly pretty for a short time.
But my favorite part of rain was when it really poured. Which didn’t happen for long. There would be a five-minute burst every so often in a desert thunderstorm, and when that cloud released, it would flood the landscape. Sheets of rain would wash down in buckets. It would rain so fast and furious that the dry ground couldn’t keep up. Flash floods would happen, washing away all the piled up garbage in the cracks of the sidewalks or the gutters of houses. It would wash away all the piled up filth that had accumulated over time. One five-minute downpour, and everything was clean. Clean.
I loved the rain.
I just hated the smell of it.
As I sat on the Greyhound bus, staring out the window, I watched it rain as I left. I was in the flash flood, getting swept away to New Orleans. Virgie had completely lost her mind. Without a doubt, lost her mind. And yet… here I was on the bus, with a suitcase, a duffle bag, and an oversized purse carrying all my possessions. I was the insane one.
I also had more money in my pocket than I had ever seen, including a check made out to Marie St. Claire for a month’s worth of rent. I had never had someone do something so nice for me before. I had promised Virgie I would pay her back, and she had refused like the stubborn old lady I’d always known her to be. The only thing she wanted from me were hand written letters. She said she wanted to see New Orleans through my eyes, and hear of all the adventures I was about to experience. She had said it was my turn to live an exciting life like she had once done.
My turn.
Luckily the bus wasn’t crowded, and the seat next to me was empty so I could stretch out. Once I reached Las Vegas, I would still have 1 day, 19 hours, and 45 minutes of driving to reach New Orleans. It was about to be the longest drive of my life, and also the most terrifying, most thrilling, and most life altering.
I wasn’t really a reader, but I did pack a couple of Virgie’s paperbacks to try to pass the time, but I wasn’t in the mood to get them out of my bag just yet. But I decided to go ahead and write the first of the promised letters to Virgie. When we reached the next stop to get some vending machine food and drinks, I would hopefully be able to find a mailbox. Virgie had been sure to give me plenty of stamps and paper to last me months before sending me on my way. She wanted to make sure I had no excuse not to write. Virgie would be tickled if she were to get a letter almost immediately after I left, so I pulled the paper and pen from my purse to begin.
Virgie,
I can’t believe I am doing this. I’m sitting on a bus, driving days to get to a city where I have never been. I’ve only seen it in movies and know of one landmark—Bourbon Street. And I know there are gators in a swamp.
What have I done? What have you made me do? I truly have lost my mind.
But I have to thank you. Thank you so much for pushing me to do something like this. I was trapped… I know that. I’ve always known that. I wanted out so badly but never had the shove I needed to do so. You not only shoved me, you gave me a huge boot in the ass and kick in the teeth that I needed.
You are my best friend. My only friend. Which I realize is an odd best friend pairin
g. Our ages, our pasts, even our futures are not on the same path, but I feel it in my soul. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you, and after what you did for me today, I now know there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for me as well. So leaving you has already left a huge gaping hole in my heart. Yes, I worked for you. And yes, I cleaned after your dirty ass, but you were my friend. And what you did for me today was by far the best gift I have ever received in my life.
So here I am. On a Greyhound. Because of you.
My meemaw wanted me to leave Muckaluk. She had made me promise that I would leave and start a new life. I meant it when I promised her that I would, but I didn’t know when, or how. And frankly, I’m not sure if it would have ever happened.
Before I left, you said I needed to find a dream and not just nightmares, but the truth of the matter is that I don’t even have nightmares. I am blank. Hollow. At this point of my life, I would welcome the nightmare too. Anything to add pigment to my blank canvas and to fill up my hollow hole. I think that’s why I got so many of those tattoos you hated so much. It was the only way I could add color to my stark, blank, white life.
So, as I sit here and write this letter, I wonder what is in store for me. What do I want? What is my future? Will I be a coward and return to you in tears? Will I find my dreams, my nightmares? How will I survive once I use all your money? So many questions, and yet, as I watch the rain run down the glass windows of the bus, I feel a sense of peace. I think I can do this… no, I KNOW I can do this. It’s time. It’s time I add the color to my life and not just my body.
But SHIT, can you tell Roy I’m sorry for missing my appointment, and I owe him an extra six-pack of Pap’s? And don’t tell the man he stinks. I know you, Virgie, so just hold that tongue of yours. Ha.
Well, here is the first letter of many to you. I hope I have more exciting things to say in my next one, because there isn’t much to say yet. I’m almost to Las Vegas, and then I hop on another bus to go the rest of the way. Then I will have 1 day, 19 hours and 45 minutes until I arrive. I may go crazy, since that seems like an impossibly long time to sit in a bus, but I’m going to try to stay positive and open to the gift you gave me. The bus isn’t crowded and the few people who are on it seem just as lost as I am. Vacant eyes staring out windows at passing landscape. I do wonder what their stories are. Are they full of despair or hope? Are they running to something, or running away? Are they afraid, or are they brave? I watch them and wonder if they are watching me too. Are they a blank canvas like me, ready to paint their picture?
