“Hey.”
No response. We stared out across the road, watching our breath float away in the periphery and then disappear.
“I’m sorry,” I said. And it was probably the wrong thing to say, because Elliot let out a jagged breath and he just fell apart. His whole body shook, and he leaned forward, trying to hide his outburst. I scooted closer, trying to comfort him, but I wasn’t sure if I should put my arm around him or not. I finally did, and he calmed down. I saw the shawl wadded up and sticking out of his jacket pocket.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” he said, once he could speak. He dragged his sleeve across his eyes and pulled his t-shirt collar up to wipe his nose.
“It’s okay.” I was beginning to shiver, and I noticed him doing the same. “You want to go sit in my car?”
He nodded, and we went and sat inside, letting the heater blow full blast.
I realized that Elliot was now alone. Not alone like me, with no father and a mother starting a new family in another state, an ex-girlfriend who no longer cares about her. No, Elliot has no one. He has lived with his mom for decades, and now she’s gone. He has no father, no siblings, no girlfriend, no exes, or children, that I am aware of. Just a handful of neighbors.
He didn’t want to go back into the hospital, so we left. We got some drive-thru hamburgers, and I drove him home. He said he would be okay. I felt uneasy, but I had to trust him.
February 13, 2013
I have had a cold for the last few days, but I did the bare minimum to take care of the animals.
Elliot did not leave his house for two days (I went by there a few times to make sure he was alright), but he came out this morning and fixed a few of the things I messed up. (I dropped a hay hook down into the feeder and couldn’t reach it, and I apparently unplugged one of the heaters for the chicken water and it froze over.) Anyway, he is doing better. His mom’s funeral is on Friday. So that’s two funerals for me (and Elliot) in less than two months. That’s got to be some sort of record.
The bright side is Frodo. His foot is a little tender, but he is walking normally. He’s been my little buddy all this time. I can open the door, and he will run out and go do his business and come right back in. Amazing!
February 14, 2013
I am feeling a little better. I ran my usual chores, worked at the library for a few hours, had a good conversation with Jodie about books, and stopped by the farm supply store to get some boot laces, and this little exchange occurred.
As I stood in line, I could feel somebody watching me, so I turned around. A sawed-off redneck was staring me down.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked.
“Oh, shit, it’s a girl. Sorry, I thought you was a queer.”
“Well, I am, by the way.”
“Naw, I mean a queer boy. You mean you a lesbian?” He snickered.
I had just about had it when the cashier said, “Next, please!”
I handed her the laces and threw a glare at idiot boy, who was still giggling like some sort of teenage moron.
I got my change and receipt and decided to leave the store without further trouble.
“Now, Shirley, you stop that crap right now.” I turned back to see the cashier calling him out for being a jerk.
“Shirley? Ha!” I said so he could hear, then left the building.
As I was pulling away, idiot boy slinked off around the corner and down the street. The cashier must have really had his number.
The whole exchange left me feeling good, both that the cashier had called him out and that I stood up for myself. But when I got home, I looked at the calendar and realized it was Valentine’s Day. Yet, here I was, alone. I know it’s just an arbitrary day, but I didn’t get a heart from anybody. I’m sappy like that. I called Mom.
“Happy Valentine’s Day!”
Muffled noise. “Hang on a minute, sweetie … okay, okay, I’m here.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Mom!”
“Oh, happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Did you have a good day?”
“Not really, but it’s okay. Elliot’s out and about again. And Frodo’s doing better.”
“Now, remind me who Frodo is.”
“The dog, Mom.”
“Oh, that’s right. Hey, I love you, sweetie, but I have to get the baby ready for bed.”
“Doesn’t the baby have a mother?” I had to admit, I was starting to feel a little neglected for an only child.
“Yes, but she gets a night off sometimes. I wish I’d had the night off from time to time. Anyway, got to go. I love you!”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
Click.
I took a video at random from my Dad’s stash and shoved it in the DVD player. It was a blow ‘em up movie. I took out the card Jodie gave me and turned it over and over in my hand. I had already memorized her number, and I hadn’t even called her once.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Ton-Ton: Hey, girl. I’ve been trying to FaceTime you.
Oh, crap. I stared at the screen, not knowing what to do.
Ton-Ton: ?
Me: Sorry, no internet here.
The
