Water sloshed into her old bucket with a contented gurgling. It lapped up the sides and swirled in a miniature whirlpool as she added the last of her Clorox into the mix. She took the last of her new scrubbing sponges and dipped it into the warm liquid, wringing out the excess back into the bucket. Laura sighed as she stepped back into the bathroom and slowly got down on her knees. The old pads over them gave little comfort as they squished on the violated tile. She washed a few squares of the linoleum tile before sitting back up in discomfort.

  She tugged at her rubber gloves and took both of them off before lifting the hem of her shirt and looking down at her pants. Laura slipped a finger in the waistband of them and tried to pull it away from her with little success. She had always had trouble with her work clothing, especially with all of the chemicals she used. With her long fingers she unfastened the top button on them and breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure on her hips eased. She looked at her trim stomach and tweaked her finger on her belly button before dropping her shirt back down. Laura bent back onto her hands and resumed her work.

  This was the first job of the day and she wasn't looking forward to what the rest of it had to offer, already dreading the remaining morning.

-     -     -

  And what a rotten morning it was. Mr. Bailey had spilled some hair products in his barber shop and the whole of it had solidified into a hair-trimmings and vanilla-scented mess, the Smith's barn was especially sticky this morning, and the Wilson brood had been up to their usual, five, three and two-year old shenanigans. Every muscle in her body ached and both her Levis and shoes were stained beyond the point of recognizing their original color. She limped solemnly into Roy's Diner, the tears in her eyes caused by a mix of ammonia fumes and fatigue. Laura sat down in an open booth by a shaded window. The lunch crowd had already gone through and Ethel was still removing dishes from dirty tables. It was about five minutes before anyone realized Laura had entered.

  "Hello darlin', what'll ya' have?" Laura looked up.

  "Hey Ethel, some coffee and a donut please."

  "All the coffee we got left is cooled in the pot and we're all out of donuts." Ethel was a short and squat woman with rather big lips. She had a large ink spot on her uniform where a pen had broken and leaked through and she lacked the common decency to look Laura in the eyes when they talked.

  "Toast and water I guess then, I don't have enough time for a meal."

  "All right, I'll be right back." She turned on her heel as she scribbled on a small note pad. Laura looked around the diner. There were no other waitresses inside and only one other couple eating and they were almost finished.

  "Hey Ethel?" She stopped and barely moved her head so she could listen. "What happened to the waitress that was here yesterday?" Ethel spun around and gave Laura a confused look.

  "Who are you talkin' about?"

  "The really tall blonde that was here. She said she was helping Roy while his hip was giving him trouble."

  "My hip ain't botherin' me," the cigar-sucking face of Roy stuck it's blotchy self out from behind the kitchen counter. He puffed once and his mouth cracked open, seeping a gray mist from between yellow teeth. "What da' hell is she talkin about baby?"

  "I think someone has been hittin' the bottle." Ethel turned and sneered at Laura, "this place has been owned and run by just us for years, you know that. We don't need any help to get us along." She turned up her nose and went into the back, Laura wasn't sure if she would even get her toast at this point.

  Did I imagine it?  Laura scratched at her table while submitting to her thoughts. It seems like the kind of dream I'd have, a decent cup of coffee and some great service and company. At least that blonde waitress knew how to be civil to people, and I don't know what she put into that coffee but it was the best pick-me-up I've ever had the pleasure of tasting. No, she was here. I told her my problems for about thirty minutes before I had to run over to the Kimble farm. That talk was almost as good as the coffee. What, the hell, happened to her?

  "Hey Laura!" She looked up into Roy's face through it's misty, carcinogenic cloak.

  "What is it Roy?"

  "When are ya' gonna help me gut out da' fryers, vats, and sinks? It's that time of da' month again."

  "Soon Roy, I can help you do it Monday next week, okay?" She felt like crying. She dreaded even thinking about doing those jobs, but it was fifty dollars for just two hours of work.

  "All right, but we got da' health inspector comin' and I need it done better than usual. And remember, I'll always pay ya' with somethin' better than cash." Roy wiggled his gray eyebrows and did his best to smile. Laura swallowed.

  "No thanks, Roy." He pulled the stub of the thick cigar away from his mouth and ground it out on the tray on her table before waddling back to his kitchen. Laura wanted to ask if the extra work would pay more, but she knew that it wouldn't.

  "Laura," she struggled to turn her head. The call came from the man of the couple that had just finished eating in the diner. "I have family coming over tonight, so could we move my house cleaning to this afternoon instead of this Friday."

  "Well I really want to get ho..."

  "Thanks, we'll see you later then? Honey let's get going." He abruptly turned to leave and Laura was left in bewilderment.

  "Okay, I guess," and he was out the door. "I mean, I don't have the time or the energy to help you out. I really need to get home."

  "Who are ya' talkin' to?" Ethel was standing magnanimously over her with a small plate and a mug.

  "No one." Laura took the mug and peered inside where she discovered a thin film that had no business floating in a glass of water. There was only one piece of toast on the plate and it was slightly burned, she sighed. "I have to get going, I'll eat this in the car." Ethel brandished an angered look.

  "That'll be $1.50. That's with tip."

-     -     -

  Laura looked at the needle on her gas indicator as she turned off the engine in her truck. It was wiggling slightly around 'empty' and moved back to rest against it's small peg as the car gurgled twice and shut down. Her door groaned as she opened it; the hinges resisting with building rust, but functioning nonetheless. The back of her truck was filled with empty bottles and filthy rags and buckets. They needed to be washed but Laura didn't have the energy. Most of the money she had made that week would have to go towards restocking her cleaning materials too. Things kept getting more and more expensive as time dragged on and she wanted to raise her own prices to compensate, but she knew that wouldn't be wise. It was better just to work a few more jobs than to come under fire from some of her employers.

  It was late, a good three hours after the sun of midspring had set. The rest of the day had pretty much been the same. With the extra job she was given to do at 'lunch' she had cleaned ten places in all.

  "And each one was a serious ass-kicker!"

  The little plastic bird on her mail-box bobbed it's blue head up and down in springing agreement as she slammed the flap on it closed.

  "Bills, bills, junk-mail, bills, and bills."

  There was laughter coming from inside the house and the light perfume of burning marijuana.

  "Oh please, not tonight." Laura walked up the steps and entered her home, counting each one as if she were on her death march.

  "And then the nun said, 'aw, that's just a zucchini!'"

  "Right on dude!"

  "That is so funny, man. And with all of that cream cheese!"

  "Dude, pass the bong."

  Laura stepped into a forest of smoke, beer cans, and bad goatees. As the screen door closed behind her, three sets of red eyes tried their best to look up at her. The pair that belonged to Greg blinked and a slight grin formed beneath it.

  "Baby, you're home!"

  Laura stared at him a few seconds and shrugged.

  "Mr. Bailey said you never showed up today," she looked around the living room, they had built a pyramid out of the cans and had stuck popsicle sticks in some of the can mouths as miniature flags.

  "Aww somethin' came up baby. Hey, can you do us a big favor and make us a batch of chili fries?" One of his two friends hooted.

  "Totally, I could definitely go for some fry-action right now!" She stood there for a moment, concentrating on the pain in her shoulders and feet.

  "Sure, I guess."

  "Killer, so like I was sayin' these two dudes walk into a bar..."

  Laura trodded her way into the kitchen, pausing only to throw her hat and keys onto a table. Each step was an extreme effort. Dirty dishes were thrown callously on the counters, about four times more than the should be made in any one day. A pair of Greg's socks were plugging the sink drain and the floors were sticky from a spilled carton of orange juice; which was still lying in the corner. She felt her fists clench and her body begin to tremble. She closed her eyes and felt the fire smolder behind them.

  Laura couldn't stand it anymore, not after today. Not after her whole life.

  "GREG! GET IN THIS KITCHEN NOW!" A half-empty glass of milk was fermenting near the fridge, with a swipe of her hand Laura knocked it into the wall where it shattered and began dripping to the floor in coagulating chunks. "RIGHT NOW, DAMN IT!" One of his friends made a snide remark that she could hear though the blood pumping in her ears. Greg slowly got to his feet and shuffled towards the kitchen, sticking his disheveled head through the doorway with an impatient expression.

  "What is it? We're gettin' ready to watch the game. I can't really be pestered now." Her back was turned to him, and he noted that nothing seemed to be cooking.

  "Get them out of here, get them out of this house right now."

  "What? We haven't even gotten our chili fries yet. I can't let them go."

  Laura spun around and threw Greg a penetrating gaze; her eyes were wide open with fury and a drop of sweat dripped down her forehead. He watched it slide along her dusty face as he paled under her stare.

  "All right. All right, Laura. I'll get rid of them." He stood there for a moment unsure what to make of the situation, then moved back to the living room.

  She felt an enormous sense of relief wash over her and nodded in satisfaction. The smile on her face lasted only briefly before she noticed increasing discomfort in her chest. She had been wearing a bra the whole day while working and it was beginning to pinch. Laura withdrew her arms into her shirt and began working on taking it off; after a while she began to get upset because she couldn't get a good grip on the fasteners in the back. She jerked her arm in frustration and heard the fabric of her t-shirt tear; the tan of her shoulder peeked through the large hole with a white strap draping over it and reddening the skin underneath.

-     -     -

On to Page 4

-     -     -

Back to Red Convertible Index