This week’s prompt was to write about a journey. Sometimes you
have to run away to find your way back home.
My Adventure
The old man left at 7:30 this morning. Same as every morning
for the past 30 years. I fixed a couple of fried eggs, two pieces of rye toast,
and a pot of coffee. He grabbed his lunch pail from the fridge. Inside was his usual
bologna sandwich, a Tupperware bowl with potato salad, a baggie with chips, and
a slice of apple pie wrapped in foil. He put on his work shoes by the front
door, where he always leaves them, and left. He’ll walk to the corner and catch
the #39 bus to Clarendon, and transfer to the #87 which will take him to his
job site at Mitchell and Hathaway.
“My ladies magazines say it’s good to mix things up now and again.”
“Change is the ruin of this country.”
Crazy old man.
The old man is my husband, Harvey Cooper. He does the same
thing every day, every night, every week, every month… You can set your watch
by that old man. After he left, I walked to the opposite corner and got on the
#82, which took me to the 8th Street train station. I decided to get
on a train and ride it all the way to the main terminal downtown. Then, I’m
going to transfer to a different train. I don’t care which one, cause I’m going
on an adventure. When we stop at a station that strikes my fancy, I’ll get off,
and make a real life for myself. Far away from that crazy old man.
Next stop, Mundelein Street Station
I took cash from the cookie jar, and left the savings. It’ll
get him by if he needs it. I’ll find a cheap motel and get a job. I did factory
work before we married, and I still remember how to work a line. It’ll be nice to
be me for a change. I was Billy and Martha Jenson’s daughter, Tommy Jenson’s
older sister, Martha and Billy Jenson’s caretakers – in that particular order, and
Harvey Cooper’s wife. Always somebody else’s something. It’ll feel good to be just
Hermione. That’s me.
“My ladies magazines say it’s good to find out who you really
are.”
“Folks who don’t know who they are belong in the loony bin.”
Crazy old man.
Next stop, Hendricks Street Station
Every day, when that old man gets home from work, he kicks
off his work shoes at the door, goes into the laundry room, takes off his work
pants and shirt, and drops them in a pile on top of the hamper.
“Why do you put your clothes on top of the hamper instead of
lifting the lid and putting them inside?”
“If I put them inside, you’ll have to take them out. You don’t
have to take these out.”
Crazy old man.
Next stop, Willow Street Station
He puts on his robe – the one his mother bought him 20 years
ago, puts on his slippers – the ones I bought him 14 years ago, and goes into
the kitchen. He turns off the oven, and takes the plate out with his dinner on
it that I’ve been warming. He fetches the plate with a piece of pie I leave in
the fridge, and a bottle of beer. I’d have already set up the TV tray for him
with a fork, a napkin, and the remote, in front of his recliner. He leans back
in the recliner, pulls the tray in front of him, and turns on wrestling. That’s
where he stays cause he falls asleep halfway through the match. I get him to
bed, and set his alarm. Meantime, I’m puttering somewhere in the house.
“My ladies magazines say men should show their wives they’re
appreciated.”
“I let you watch me bowl at the VFW every Friday night.”
Crazy old man.
Next stop, Camden Street Station
It’s almost 6 and he’ll be home soon. In his tattered robe and threadbare slippers,
he’ll find the oven’s cold. And empty. I’m sure he’ll figure out how to put a
sandwich together. There’s at least a half a loaf of bread in the cupboard, I
think. He won’t have any chips. I didn’t do the marketing today. There’s no more
pie in the fridge. I didn’t bake this morning.
Next stop, Billings Place Station
He won’t use the tray. He’ll just put the plate with his
sandwich in his lap and get crumbs all over the carpet. He won’t run the vacuum
either. I’d be surprised if he knew how to turn it on – that’s if he knows
where I keep it. He’ll fall asleep in that chair, and won’t wake up on time cause
I didn’t set the alarm. His boss will fire him for being late.
It’ll be tough for Harvey to get another job cause he won’t
have clean clothes while he’s looking, He don’t know how to run the washer. He
could ask one of the church ladies to help him figure out his laundry. Course, Harvey
hasn’t been inside a church since our wedding, so he probably don’t know any of
them do-gooders. It don’t matter that he can’t cook to make himself a hot meal cause
he won’t have lights or water. He don’t know where I keep the bank book, so how’s
he gonna pay any bills? How in the world is that crazy old man gonna…
Last stop, main terminal
“Excuse me,
Conductor. How long before this train goes back around to the 8th
Street Station?”
***
“Hey, Hermi, where you been? Didn't hear you puttering. My supper in the oven?”
The old man got off early.
“No, Harv. I picked up Chinese take-out. I’ll make you a
plate.”
“Okay. Where’s my tray? Wrestling’s gonna start.”
“Get on your robe and slippers. I’ll get everything ready.”
“You’re a good old gal. You wanna watch the match with me?”
“Sure. I’ll fix a plate for me too.”
“Good. The empty house made me worried. I missed ya.”
He missed me. Crazy old man.
I really like this story. "Crazy old man" nicely changes from a derogatory phrase to one of affection. And the description of his days changes tone also. I do hope that she does change a bit - maybe doing little day trips now, just to see the world. Maybe she'll do volunteer work, since she seems to be good at being a helper.
ReplyDeleteThanks much, Mike. She loves him dearly. It's just that she's never really had what she considers her own life. Maybe little shopping trips to the various train stations might ease the sense of feeling trapped. Volunteer work would be perfect for her, since she has done much for her family and always does everything for her husband. I really like this character.
DeleteAlso liked that it was all about a journey, as the origin and destination were the same.
ReplyDeleteThe journey was certainly a physical one, but it was also an intellectual and an emotional one. She had to leave home to realize that home was where she truly wanted to be.
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