Special Treat ??“ From Me

Aug 24, 2005? 

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The Lady

Carol Roach

The sweltering heat of mid July beats angrily against the burning pavement. Windows are opened in every house on the block. The residents know they will not get much relief. Yet they do it anyway. Nellie Belanger is leaning her head out of the window, looking at God knows what. A woman and her child pass by. The child stops and stares at Nellie. She points her finger and laughs. The mother admonishes her child. She grabs her by the arm pushing her forward, but not before she too looks at Nellie; not knowing what else to do.

Nellie seems to have an exaggerated long neck, extending and contorting in ways the woman has never seen a human body do. She is also leaning her body halfway out of the window, starring into the great unknown. The lady looks on nervously. She has never walked down this street before. She does not know anyone here. The woman quickly scans the street for someone to help her. There is no one in sight. She ponders for a second, then looks for an opening for this house among the dirty chalked marked bricks ??“ evidence of children??™s artistry no doubt. She is about to knock on a door for help. Somebody must attend to this deformed woman before she falls from the second floor window.

A child darts out from an alley way and the woman is relieved to see someone. She motions to the child to look at the woman in the window. ???Which is her house? Tell the family she will fall out the window,??? she says.

???Oh that is just Nellie,??? the raggedy child announces, ???She does that all the time.?  She will be okay.???

The woman takes in the appearance of the child ??“ dirty, topless, barefooted, with a runny nose. The boy, about ten-years-old, senses her distain and is uncomfortable. He wipes his nose with the back of his dirty hand.

The stranger has seen enough, she once again tugs at her daughter and leaves this street forever. Once she has visited with the elderly lady from the church, she will never come down to the ghetto again.

Another lady appears out of nowhere. She is fifty-years-old, overweight, dressed in a modest black skirt, white sweater, and strapless sandals. Her legs are bare. The fat lady looks up at Nellie lovingly. She does not call out or gesture to her, for she knows that Nellie will not hear her. She slowly hobbles to the laneway for she is arthritic and in pain.? 

The lady exits the laneway and enters into the big yard; cutting her toe on a small sharp stone. She had forgotten about the stones. She should have worn closed shoes.

The lady is surprised to see the old tin can that the neighbour referred to as a car still planted in the middle of the yard. It hadn??™t worked in years. It is a bit rustier now than she remembered. The junk heap is taking up needed space for the children to run about.

They have nowhere else to play. There are no community centers in the area. The little wading pool is reserved for the youngest children. Although the ten-and-twelve-year-olds still steal a dip when they can, they have to keep a watchful eye on the superintendent who will band them from the park if they are caught.? 

The fat lady looks at the kids in the yard. She hears them squeal and have fun. They are playing tag; oblivious to the poverty around them. The lady looks at the old sheds in the far corner of the yard. The shine of the padlocks catches her eye. At one time they were open, until the teenagers used them as their love nest. Claire was just fourteen-years-old when she announced to her family she was going to have a baby.? 

The lady turns to her right. She sees the wooden stairs. No need to count, she remembers there are fifteen of them. She climbs the stairs slowly. She reaches the landing. Nellie??™s door is wide open. The damp musty smell of her house assaults the lady on impact.

The lady looks toward her left. The gallery door is still there, locked as usual. Privacy is important. Nellie??™s kids are not allowed to play on this end of the gallery. The grandmother will open the door in the evening when it is too hot to sleep. She will want to have a chat with Nellie and her husband, Leo before retiring.

With one quick movement, the lady lifts her leg and climbs over the wooden railing.?  She is now on the other side of the locked door. The smell of oil from the old drum at the back end of the gallery permeates the air. She lovingly touches the red brick exterior of the building and looks upon the clean yellow curtains displayed on the crystal clean window and door. What a remarkable difference from the dirt found on Nellie??™s side of the wooden door.

The balcony is long and narrow and in the center is an old rocking chair. She remembers the creaking sound it made. That sound was music to her ears. The two dogs lying on either side of the chair jump up to greet her. The bigger one barks and wags her tail. The little one jumps up on his hind legs and does a little dance. She bends down and lets them kiss her face. How she misses those wet sloppy kisses.

The girl in the rocking chair is oblivious to her presence. In fact she is oblivious to her entire surroundings. She is a teenager about fifteen-years-old. Long black hair extends down her back and a lock covers one of her eyes. The girl does not push it away. She is absorbed in her work. She is reading Gone With The Wind, and she is fascinated with Rhett Butler. The initial signs of her burgeoning sexually are stirring within her. Beside her on the armrest is a note pad and pencil. Occasionally she jots down notes as she reads. One day she too will write a novel.

The lady does not hesitate to approach the young girl and sit in the rocking chair. The past and present are united as one. The past and present are solidified. There are no regrets. The lady is proud of who she is and where she came from. The lady is proud of her accomplishments.? ? 

Carol Roach, M.Ed, B.A psychology

winterose@videotron.ca

Author: Picking Up the Pieces: A Woman??™s Journey, Angels Watching over Me

Newsletter Publisher:?  Storytime Tapestry:?  http://subs.zinester.com/98907

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Carol Roach

winterose@videotron.ca

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A Native of Montreal, Quebec, Carol is a graduate of Concordia, and McGill University.?  She holds a bachelor in psychology and a Masters in counselling psychology.?  Carol Roach is a published writer and newsletter editor.?  You can purchase her book: Picking up the Pieces: A Woman's Journey at www.publishamerica.com, or www.amazon.com.?  You can also go to your local bookstore and order it there as well.?  Carol??™s second book: Angels Watching Over Me is soon to be released by White Schooner Books ??“ details to follow. ? 

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If you are interested in other stories feel free to join her newsletter: Storytime Tapestry at: http://subs.zinester.com/98907 , or email her directly at winterose@videotron.ca and she will be glad to accommodate you.?  Carol enjoys email and responds to every inquiry.

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