The Old Woman

Thinking she lost it all, life has a way of turning around.

The old woman sat on the bench.  The sun came up, passed directly overhead and began to move to the other side.  Still the old woman sat there.   She did not feel the warm sunshine or look around to see the children and dogs at play. 

Just looking at her no one might know how grand she once was.  If someone had bothered to look at the un-callused hands or the eyes they covered they would have seen a regal speck that, even in despair, refused to be extinguished.  A very keen observer might also have seen faint lines on the third finger of her left hand, and tattered Dolce and Gabbana pumps. However there was no such observer.

Today was her 60^th birthday.  There had been no cards or splendid parties.  There had been no morning calls or flowers. Nobody had wished her Happy Birthday.

As the sun slid out of sight she began to shiver.  It was almost Halloween. Slowly getting up from the bench she pulled the old green wool beret from the pocket of her oversized cape. Tugging it over her ears it hid once chestnut tinted hair.  She could have been close to 6 feet tall, but stooped shoulders made her look much shorter.  One step at a time, not looking right or left, she turned down Oak Street, leaving the safety of the park.  Passing the grand old house at 29, the FORCLOSURE sign was gone. This was the first time she looked up.  Seeing that sign there had somehow been a comfort.  Now that too was gone.  It was official now, she had lost everything.  There should have been tears, but the time for tears had long passed.

George was first, leaving her with only the money her parents had left.  Too soon most of that was gone, along with her fine friends. Then the fur coats and grand gowns.  Then, one by one, her fabulous jewels and oversized diamond wedding rings.  Last to go were her precious antiques and the paintings.  Having no experience with money, except the spending part, she did what had to be done. Finally, the bank man had put that dreadful sign on her once fabulous lawn.  Using the money that was left and the few things she managed to keep she and Rebecca walked away from their life, into this.  Thirty six days later, on the day she turned 21, Rebecca too left.  The stinging words of that day still clear in her head “…never to allow myself to be that stupid and poor”.  She had not seen or heard from Rebecca since that day.

Did she allow this to happen? How?  None of it mattered now anyway.   Continuing, she turned down Lancaster Street with the rundown row-houses of her present West Philadelphia neighborhood. Climbing up the 6 steps she opened the door to number 8.  Closing it behind her the outside world went away.  The apartment was small, but clean.  The letter to Rebecca was still there.  Next to it was the bottle of sleeping pills and the glass of water.  It was all so easy.  She stood in the doorway for a very long time, staring at the things on the kitchen table.

Startled from her spot she heard the doorbell ring, and loud knocking.  Why would anyone be at her door? Halloween was in two days, there would not be trick-or-treaters anyway.  It was not Mr. Finney for the rent money she did not have.  That too would be in two days.  The bell rang four more times.  The knocking became banging.  She would pretend not to be home, they would go away.  “Madam Atwater, Madam Atwater”!  A voice, familiar…?  “Please Madam, it is Ms. Rebecca and Little Mister!” ”Please Madam, you must come with me!”   Confused, staring at the door she slowly pulled back the lock and turned the knob.  “Randall?”  she said in a shaky voice.  Randall, in his black coat and cap, stood at the doorway.  “Madam you must come quickly!”  “There has been an accident!” “Rebecca and Little Mister are in the hospital.” “Hurry!” She stood gripping the open door staring at Randall unable to speak.  “You must come now!”  He tugged at her arm, but she seemed to be frozen to the floor. Taking her by the arm Randall half pulled her out the door and down the steps.  Still wearing her brown cape and beret she felt herself being pushed onto the seat of the big black car.  Leather, cigars and Chanel surround her.  Randall was talking to her, but she could not hear the words.  Pushing her whole body into the seat she thought she felt afraid.  Rebecca wanted to see her? Who was Little Mister?  Her whole body was shaking.  Was this dead?

She did not know how long the car ride was, but the sudden stop almost knocked her to the floor.  Randall opened the door and helped her from the back seat.  There was a big lighted EMERGENCY sign.  “I am sorry” she said weakly.  “I am sorry”. “I am sorry.”  “What Madam?” Randal led her to a seat in the emergency room.    “I am sorry she mumbled again. “I just wanted to sleep, to have everything end.” Once again her hands covered her eyes as she lowered herself onto the chair. Randall did not hear, he had already walked away to a room behind the desk.

 “Come Madam, we can see Ms. Rebecca now.” Helping her stand he and the doctor led her back the way they had come. “Re…bec…ca?” she mumbled shakily.  This was the first time she had said her daughter’s name aloud in more than a year.  It felt strange.  The Doctor was talking but she could not understand the words.  Was she going to see Rebecca?  Stopping outside room 4, again she felt afraid.  Did Rebecca really want to see her?  The doctor opened the door and stepped back into the hallway. “It is ok Madam, Rebecca is awake and asking for you.”  Confused she let Randall push her gently into the room.  The instant she stepped through the door she knew this was not a dream.  Rebecca was there.  “Mama Mama!  I am so sorry! I am so very very sorry.  Mama please forgive me!”  Taking hold of her daughter’s outstretched hand she knelt beside the bed.  All the tears of the past began to come. Quietly, Randall closed the door behind him. Eleanor did not see the large bandage around her daughters head or the cast on her leg.  She did not see the machines in the room or the IV attached to her daughter’s left arm.  For almost an hour mother and daughter held hands and cried, each telling the other how very sorry they were.  It was too early to tell the stories of what went wrong.  There would be time for that.  At the sound of the door mother and daughter looked up.  Randall and the doctor entered with the baby.  Reaching down to her Randall handed Eleanor her grandson.

Throughout the week that Rebecca was in the hospital stories were told.  Eleanor told her daughter the things she had learned about surviving and her job at the diner. She did not tell her about the letter she ripped up or the pills she flushed down the toilet.  Rebecca told her mother about the man she married and divorced.  20 years older, he walked out before Patrick was born paying her all that money.  She did not say how she had found Randle to help her get the divorce or about the incident.  None of that mattered anymore.

It took Rebecca that whole week to convince her mother to move in with her and Patrick. On Thursday Eleanor, her grandson and her daughter drove off with Randall to their new life.  As they turned off Lancaster Street past her old apartment and then turned onto Oak Street, Rebecca handed her mother a paper.  Eleanor, staring at the paper, burst into tears hugging Patrick so hard he began to cry.  The name on the deed for 29 Oak Street read, ELEANOR FULLER-ATWATER. 

Author's Note

Any and all reviews are gladly accepted.

Reviews

[Shep]

I nearly had tears in my eyes as I read this story that had a hard time writing comments. Loved it Loved it. Please tell me you have more so I can read them.

[wordman]

sounds like the beginning of a great novel

[janice]

Thank you. I hadn't thought of it as a novel, but who knows?
Janice

[wordman]

you`re welcome

[Maanya Arora]

Thank you for the review you gave on mine. Your tips are really helpful , as a matter of fact you are awesome i don’t have much words to explain but it’s beautifully explained ... ps. I am just 14 and really dramatic