The house always had something wrong , now I woke with the toilet not flushing right and bubbling sounds coming up in the bathtub,
Living with my in-laws after we were married had been no choice for us -recession had taken the good jobs away- leaving us to work on the mill side. Grateful for a place .
We had lost each other as day by day our dreams died and we became different people. I was an outsider with no where to go . Everyday that became clearer.
He was there diging into the septic tank making it bigger , trying to put some kind of yeast product into help clear out the waste.
His daughter now up in age over twenty now - sat along the bank of the newly dug hole. I can not tell you how I wound up sliding as the ground below me gave way and I grasping at nothing more than air tired to prevent the inevitable fall into this fresh crumbling earth, He just looked at a me , he never got up from his seat , gloating , such a pleasant look came across his face as he threw out the end of his shirt for me to grab. He made no real effort to rescue me - just this vain attempt , Feeling the ground giving further away I worked my steps toward the new formed bank and pushed with one hand my body up to where his daughter sat. Move out of my way, as I brushed pasted her she smiled. Humiliated for the last time.
Smelling of the stench , I mindless in my sorrow and anger wanted as far away as possible. I found myself walking past a crowd of well dressed people in silks and heavy embroidered cloaks and expensive jewels, a corner shop where my reflection gave way to a lost frightened face.
The next building near the entrance three ladies were consoling a widow,
she was hugging up against the outside fountain and praying to a cement statue.
I leaned against the wall on the opposite side and closed my eyes, rubbing my one hand across the wall trying to rub off the soiled remainder of the vile pit I had fallen into earlier. I felt at home near the mourning of this young widow, her-tears became my own as I mourned for my life and love which had been buried as that look was my last disgrace.
Years have passed by and I never trusted again, just work and myself,
Starting over I found work in a place my body made the making of money far to easy , I dressed in beautiful costumes and true to Vegas I served and was not touched - with a smile. I made thousands in tips every week .
Speeding by I left the last customers drink and dropped his change near the glass - he was no where to be seen .
His 285 dollars lay next to his glass and not far from it lay my stack of tips from the night.
Behind me came the voice now familiar , Stacy Adams,
Lets try this again , $50 dollars you place it where you want, I placed it next to his neck and he leaned in okay try , my lips pressed against his skin, Nope nothing still cold as ice , my turn, 100 at the nape of your neck
light almost like warm breath only , he whispered , like this ...
Your turn again, 100 placed close to his chest gentle kiss upon his neck, he smiled still like a cold nose.
Will try again tomorrow.
Looking down at my money piled high
my world cold and my cash colder.
© Cheryl A. Howell, All rights reserved
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