Women Within by Anne Leigh Parrish

Author:Anne Leigh Parrish [, Anne Leigh Parrish]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Rose Writing
Published: 2016-03-10T05:00:00+00:00

chapter sixteen

Eunice’s mother wondered if she should look into Lindell. Living there would be very convenient in times of need. She’d twisted her ankle. Eunice had had to buy groceries for her, tote her laundry down to the basement of the apartment building, wait for all the various cycles to complete, fold everything—even the sheets, although they were just going back on the same bed—then bring the heavy basket upstairs, and put everything away. It was a pain in the ass. She told her mother so.

“Well, it’s not like I twisted the damned thing on purpose,” she said.

By then her hair was completely gray. She’d had it cut short, which made her look either fierce or weary, depending on her mood.

“In a place like Lindell, there are always people around to help. And don’t worry, I’d suggest they assign me someone else, to spare you any embarrassment,” she said.

Eunice sat down at the little kitchen table, which for some reason her mother had covered with a piece of lace cloth. Coffee stains were numerous, also dried egg yolk. Her mother had developed a fondness for eggs, and cooked them in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep.

“It’s expensive. You can’t afford it,” Eunice said. She knew this from overhearing the residents and their family members talk about financial matters in front of her, as if she were invisible or deaf.

“You’re just saying that.”

“Check for yourself then.”

Her mother’s exhausted expression said she’d already looked into the matter and was just hoping for some magical solution. Eunice considered this change in her character. She used to be a fairly practical person, when she wasn’t drinking, that is. But the drinking, too, had gone by the wayside, which Eunice found more perplexing that anything else.

“You’re on the wagon again, aren’t you?” Eunice asked.

“Says who?”

“I haven’t had to hit the liquor store since you got laid up.”

Her mother fixed her with an appraising stare.

“How long has it been this time?” Eunice asked.

“Four months.”

Eunice whistled. That broke all previous records.

“Why did you?” she asked.

“Got bored with it.”

Eunice learned the truth later, on another visit, when her mother introduced her to a neighbor, Jean. Jean was about her mother’s age, mid-seventies or so, even more slightly built than Eunice. Her right hand was missing the thumb and forefinger, yet she was quite deft when it came to both pouring out coffee and drinking it from a cup. She wore her hair in a bun. Sometimes she would remove the pins and rearrange it a little more tightly on the top of her head. She managed this task as easily as if she had all ten fingers.

Jean was a Jehovah’s Witness. She told Eunice so the moment they met, as if it were the most important thing that could be known about her. Eunice didn’t care what she was, as long as she kept her zeal to herself, which of course she couldn’t.

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