9781643763255-eBook by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-04-21T10:27:30+00:00

CHAPTer

Ten

Patty’s eyes sprang open, as if attached to a window blind whose spring had won its freedom. A rapping crept into her ears, but it did not come from the door. It had come through the door, or more likely, through an open window above the kitchen sink that faced Lovey’s kitchen. The room was lit, but not artificially. Had she overslept? Was there such a thing?

Her eyes climbed down from the pale white yellowed ceiling to the bed board at her feet. The dirty white sheet upon which her feet lay was muddied. The culprit had been her feet. Her eyes retreated back to the ceiling where they pondered the situation. These days, rather, this day, her eyes dwelled in thought as deep as her mind, however shallow it had become.

Patty attempted to talk to herself, rationalize the ache in her arms and legs and the mud on the strange feet at the end of her legs. They had certainly been lathered, showered, and dried before she retired and doused the table lamp. Her forced thought spoke to her in a familiar voice, but it murmured nothing but unintelligible slurs. There were B’s and L’s but they were long and drawn out and often swapped places.

There were no images appearing on the ceiling, just a water stain left behind by the ghost of a man who had repaired a shingle leak. Both the leak and the man had disappeared, but not before leaving behind their marks. Caught between the coffee cup and the stain was a wounded heart. But on these days, rather, this day, there was no heart to be felt. The reservoir holding its tears of joy and sorrow had been securely locked. There was no flow, in or out. Even though Patty’s heart was full to the brim with emptiness, there was plenty of room leftover for more of nothing.

At their own command, the dirty feet pulled their companion knees to the edge of the bed at the woman’s left side and dropped down on a pair of dirty jeans, a dirty T-shirt, and one of many pair of panties that were always worn when she slept. But that was yesterday, and these days were now this day.

The feet and knees collected their legs and arms and marched Patty into the shower. Without bothering to dry her body, the arms, legs, and feet dressed themselves in another dirty T-shirt and pair of faded jeans bearing speckles of white paint. The clean hands then air dried her short dark blonde hair and stuffed it under a ball cap. The dirty clothing and sheet were placed in the robust round washing machine that sat at the far end of the back porch, the end opposite the steps that led to Lovey and the garden. Returning to the kitchen, the hands rubbed at the furry tickling sensation her arms and shoulders felt, a sensation that could not be described, nor remembered. It was that very sensation that had freed the spring coiled up inside the window shade.

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