Any Day Now

I took a break from pushing the lawn mower and stood in the freshly mowed grass to wipe the beads of sweat off of my forehead. I peered down to notice my shoes stained green and littered with spots of dried dirt. I could feel the sun beginning to burn the skin around the collar of my shirt. I filled my lungs with the earthy stench of fresh cut grass and looked down the street. The heat waves were melting houses in the distance as I was reminded that this was the last lawn on my check list.

Mrs.Wolf’s house stood in the middle of a cul-de-sac and peered down the street just as I did every Saturday afternoon. Her house looked different from the houses that congregated around it. All of the other houses in my neighborhood had been remodeled inside and out except for Mrs.Wolf’s. A relic from post-war suburbia, Mrs.Wolf’s home was covered in a light blue paint that chipped with old age and white paned windows that were always obstructed by the dark green curtains that kept her from the world. The aged concrete on her driveway had cracked under the rebelling weeds that grew from the dirt beneath it and to my knowledge hadn’t felt the weight of a car since I had begun landscaping years ago.

After the heat left my face, I turned the mower back on and pushed it over the uncut grass, rhythmically turning around when reaching the other side of the lawn. After several more u-turns, I cut the final blade of grass and rolled my lawn mower up the ramp into the back of my white pick-up. I slammed the tailgate shut and hopped into the drivers seat. After rummaging through my pockets I found my car keys, shoved them into the ignition and turned the key. The truck screeched three times before idling at a steady growl. It was when I put my foot on the brake that I realized I had forgotten to get my crumpled bill from Mrs.Wolf.

Mrs.Wolf and I would only talk when I needed to be paid. When we did, it was very brief and only to inform her that I had either started or finished my work. On most of those occasions I would only get a quiet “Fine.” and the big red door would open just enough for her to hand me a crumpled twenty dollar bill, revealing a spotted small hand of an old woman. Half of a cobweb stuck to that door and every time she opened it to hand me that twenty dollar bill, she would open it just enough to keep that particular cobweb in tact. Leaving the truck idling, I hopped out and jogged to the big red door. I knocked twice to get her attention.

“Mrs.Wolf! I’ve finished the lawn!”

I heard nothing from the other side of the big red door so I called once more.

“Mrs.Wolf? I’ve finished your lawn!” Silence followed.

I exhaled and rolled my eyes, knocking twice once more. She was silent. I looked back at my pick-up to find it waiting impatiently for my return. I wrapped my hand around the silver door knob and thought about whether it was a good idea to turn it and open the door. 

I had never seen Mrs.Wolf. Once I think about it, no one in the neighborhood had really seen her. She had always just been the silent woman in the old blue house to the entire neighborhood, nothing more.

Tapping my foot a few times, I turned the knob and shifted the red door open, just enough to keep the cobweb in tact. I stuck my head through the crack and used my limited view to look inside. 

The sunset illuminated the interior of her otherwise poorly lit home, which smelled faintly of vanilla and wood. Her walls were light yellow and framed by two long rows of white crown molding that was cracked from years of abuse. The floor on which the walls rested was of a dark mahogany and painted with scuffs and polished from years of use. I slid in further to get a better view of the living room. 

There was no furniture with the exception of one blue armchair that was aimed toward the street. The sunset shot a dusty beam of light onto the chair and revealed an orange pile of fur resting among its rips and stains. The furry pile lifted its head and I realized it was a cat. It gazed at me as if it had never seen anyone but Mrs.Wolf prior to my intrusion. After realizing I had been noticed I began to call for Mrs.Wolf again.

“Excuse me. Mrs. Wo-”

“What are you doing?” interrupted a voice from the top of the stair case. “Why did you open my door?”

I looked up to see Mrs.Wolf, standing at the top of the stairs with her hands crossed over her stomach and her neck straining as she tilted her head back and pinched her brows upward. She was smaller than I had imagined and had silver hair that halted neatly at her shoulders which held up a knee-length floral dress. Her liver spotted shins led to two large brown slippers that had a man’s name carefully embroidered on them.

“I knocked a few times and no one answered. I’ve finished mowing the lawn.”

“Hasn’t your mother taught you patience?”

“Sorry, Ma’am.” 

She exhaled through her nostrils and diverted her eyes to the cat on the chair.

“Well.” She looked back at me. “Come in I suppose.”

The cat eased off of the blue chair and trotted past me and around a wall.

“Mrs.Wolf I don’t think I can. I’ve got somewhere to be.” 

She ignored me to follow the cat. I looked back at my idling truck again and sighed. Keeping the cobweb taught, I slid through the crack in the door and creaked it back, stopping just before the light from the outside disappeared.

Just as I was about to follow the cat, Mrs.Wolf, without looking back at me, said “You’d best leave those nasty shoes at the door.”

I slid them off my feet and began walking on the hardwood. The floor was cold and soothed my feet through my sweat drenched socks as I walked. I turned the corner into the kitchen the cat and Mrs.Wolf were occupying. A small round table with intricately carved legs stood in front of the kitchen with a white table cloth draped over its surface and four chairs huddling around it. On the table were three tall glasses of iced tea. The ice floating in them had been reduced to oval shaped disks from the passing of time. The cat leapt onto the counter and watched as I walked in.

“Tea?”

I walked up to one of the seats and answered “Sure.”

I reached out and grabbed one of the three glasses that stood on the table before me.

“Don’t drink that.” She snapped.

Without thinking, I set it back onto the table and took a seat.

“Those aren’t for you.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

She opened the fridge, pulled out a small pitcher of iced tea and poured it into a glass identical to the three that stood in front of where I now sat. Leaving the pitcher on the counter she walked toward the table and handed me the glass before slowly pulling the chair back and taking a seat across from me.

“Thank you.” 

She said nothing as the cat rose swiftly into her lap.

“I didn’t know you had guests, Mrs.Wolf.”

“Those are for Peter and my husband.”

“Peter?”

“My son. Peter.”

“Oh.” I took a sip of iced tea. “Where are they?”

She exhaled. “How is the tea?”

It was bitter and I wanted sugar but I was hesitant to ask.

“Just fine. Thank you.”

She looked down at the cat and scratched its head before peering into her backyard. Glancing for only a moment, she looked back down at the cat in her lap.

“I’m not sure where.”

She looked at the three iced teas that sat in dark wet circles on the other side of the table.

“They’ve been a long time, those two.”

As I took another sip I looked behind Mrs.Wolf at the wall above the oven. It was decorated with black and white pictures of a young boy.

“Any day now.” she said as I returned my attention to her.

I took another sip of the iced tea; the ice cubes now disks like those in the other glasses. She reverted her attention to the backyard.

“I could mow your backyard if you’d like me too.”

She shook her head as I finished the last of my tea.

“That was a fine glass of tea, Mrs.Wolf.”

The cat leapt off of her lap and wandered back towards the living room, disappearing as it turned the corner. She rose from her seat at the table and followed the cat, saying “The money’s on the stair post.” before disappearing into the living room as the cat did. I sat in the solemn kitchen for a minute before standing up and walking towards the front door, grabbing the crumpled twenty dollar bill on the stair post on the way there. I stood at the door and looked towards the blue arm chair in the living room which was now filled with the bodies of Mrs.Wolf and the orange cat. She stared out at the street, holding the dark green curtain back with her left hand and petting the cat’s head with her right. The cat stared as I widened the sliver of light that emitted from the door. The light from the outside illuminated my face as I stopped to ask “When should I come back next week, Mrs.Wolf?”

“Any day now.” her eyes fixed on my white pick-up idling on the street. “Any day now.”

I nodded and crept through the door, watching the cobweb loosen as I closed it behind me. I casually walked back to the truck through the lawn I had mowed and hopped into the cab, shutting the door with a quiet thud as not to disrupt the comforting hum of traffic. I took my time buckling my seatbelt and putting the truck into drive. I turned the radio off and rolled down my window before listening to the gravel crunch beneath my tires as they rolled away from the curb and down the street. I looked back at Mrs.Wolf’s blue house as I came to a stop at the end of the street.  I could see her still holding the curtain and watching the taillights of my white pick-up flash red. The curtains swept back into place; Mrs.Wolf disappearing behind them.

Reviews

[Franklin...]

I few thoughts:
"sun beginning to burn the the skin" two 'the's
"white pained windows" 'paned' ?
"I had began landscaping" not sure if this should be 'begun' ?
"crown molding that cracked from years" 'had cracked', 'were cracked' ?
A few sentences could use commas, I think, though I'm not all that good at saying exactly where. Some of them, including the final sentence, seem too long and uninterrupted.

Okay, those things aside, this is well-written and descriptive. Nice job of slowly building up the information we have about Mrs. Wolf; that gives us plenty of time to speculate on our own. It gives an interesting look into the home and life of the proverbial 'batty old lady'. I'm thinking that she lost her husband and son, but kept a routine that included them as a way of denying it and the associated pain?
I take away from this that there is always more depth to people than we think; they are the way they are because of a unique history, which we, on the outside looking in, may have no idea about.
Good story.

[bbb]

I would change the usage of the word "peered." It is used too close together in the first and second paragraph. You also probably want to add an "I"in the first sentence of the second paragraph, as in ..."and I peered (or looked, gazed, etc.) down the street just as I did every Saturday afternoon." Those are really the only things I would change. Other than that, I found that the story held my attention and interested me. I think it is a well executed piece of work. :)