Disclaimers:
The names Mel and Janice and the corresponding physical descriptions were borrowed, everything else is fiction drawn up from the recesses of my muddled mind.
Big time hurt/comfort here, people looking for the immediate gratification of a happy tale are encouraged to seek reading material elsewhere.
Thanks to ROCFanKat for being the primary Beta (in spite of the 'squicky' bits.)
And thanks to Lyraine who trims up the ratty edges and cleans up after the spell checker.
The Birthday Present by Rocky
Part 1
The loud throbbing music from the dance floor penetrated into every corner of the club, its energy reverberated up from the floor until the very walls seemed to move with a pulsing beat. Young bodies moved to the rhythm of the music, drawn in by its spell. Some danced in an obvious sexual display to lure and entice others to them. Others were oblivious to everything but the deep harmonics that moved them as they swayed and pivoted in the close and smoky air.
'What on earth am I doing here?' She asked herself. 'Why do I do this to myself?' The questions went unanswered, banging against the inside of her skull in an angry counterpoint to the loud, hungry beat of the disco-tech. She tried to ignore the fact that her partner, the person that made up the other half of her life, was holding hands under the table with someone else.
It was easier to slide into the cold brown bottle in her hand and watch the current mating display out on the dance floor. Several warmer empty casualties sat waiting at her elbow to be retrieved by the scurrying hands that emptied ashtrays and made sure that the liquor was there for the asking. The whole room was a haze of cigarette smoke, sweat, perfume, and spilled drinks. For a place that pounded with the heart of life, it never seemed so dead.
Misery was safe here. No one looked or questioned, they were all wrapped within the moment and the atmosphere of a Saturday night, dancing, drinking and laughing with the exuberance of life. So long as she kept a passive look on her face, she would not be expected to participate in the shouted conversations or the tribal heat of the dance floor. Simply allowed to sit and draw in smoke and alcohol and bathe in her own unspoken pain
In a way she felt foolish. She had insisted on an open relationship, all that mummified dung about "if you love something - set it free." Liberal thinking from such a conservative heart. The gall of taking responsibility for her own stupidity was moving the bottle to her lips with measured rapidity. She sought the numbness that would still the angry thoughts until she could cease to care.
The music slowed from the bone jarring beat and a few couples shuffled together out on the empty floor. She looked up to see that they were alone at the table and searched her partner's face for the caring that used to abide there.
The gaze was misinterpreted and answered with, "Bathroom." A wave of a hand indicating the unoccupied chair.
"Kiss me." She begged.
"What! …You're Drunk." The tone of disgust cut like a rusty dagger.
"No… please, it's my birthday, can't I have just one kiss?" The baleful plea was met with an angry glare, its icy depths chilling and hurtful.
A wall shot up between them. No press of human flesh would be coming, the lip of the bottle moved there instead. She stared up at the matte black ceiling concentrating on the dark arms of the fan that tried in vain to move the thick and putrid air.
The voice of her partner barged through her reverie. "Come on, it's time to go."
"No." The evenness of her answer surprised her. She wasn't a part of the jubilant activity around her, why did she want to stay? "Your friend looks tired, take her home."
"Piss tank." The acerbic words were tossed down on the table like a gauntlet. "Fine, have it your way." Came from a curled lip.
Anger rose up in her throat, it was her birthday, her night, therefore her decision. She simply glared at the retreating backs as they moved through the club and out the door.
'Idiot!' Her fuzzy conscience chided her. 'Now how are you going to get home?' The loud music was back and the dance floor filled with writhing bodies once again. "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to." She spoke into the noise and laughed to herself as one small tear ran down her cheek. She still had money and a half a pack of cigarettes, why go home to feel the earth spin in the dark and listen to the snores from the far side of the bed? Why indeed?
Part 2
The heat of the day had finally been tapped away by the cool of the early morning, dawn was only a couple of hours away and with it the heat would return. But now in the stillness of the early hour, everything was held captive in the buzzing white of the streetlights. Solitary vehicles flashed past on the oiled asphalt, roaring by and then leaving her in the buzzing silence.
Left foot - right foot, she concentrated on keeping up a steady momentum rather than devolving into a drunken stagger. Her money was gone and her last bent cigarette was safely tucked behind one ear. Left foot - right foot. A vicious crack in the sidewalk leaped up to catch at her feet and she fell, grinding the palms of her hands and rending the knees of her jeans. She sobbed into the concrete and rolled on to her back, the pain of her hands and knees now mirrored the pain in her heart.
"Shit! Oh fuck! Goddamn it, OW! Stupid, stupid, stupid!" The curses were strung out into the night like shattered glass beads.
Hobbling the remaining distance to a bus bench, alone in the glare of a streetlight, she sat to inspect her bloodied palms. Tears and snot ran down her face and dripped from her chin and she indulged herself in a long howl of self-pity.
She watched the passage of a handful of cars that hurried by in the darkness through shining tear filled eyes. Holding her last cigarette in bloody fingers, she pulled a long slow drag. Nicotine seeped into her system and with the calm it afforded she began limping down the sidewalk. Blood from her ruined knee made a squishing sound in her shoe. Left foot - Right foot.
The night was far from cold but she began to shiver, managing with her crippled gait to get several blocks closer to home. Her body was fed up with the abuse and started to go into shock. Blood was pulled to her core to protect her internal organs. Bathed in an icy sweat, she crumpled onto the grassy boulevard.
Part 3
A pair of baby booties danced on the rear-view mirror in time to "Flip Flop and Fly" by the Down Child Blues Band. It had been another long shift and Janice was eager to get home. She crested the hill up to the lights and tapped her fingers in time to the music on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to turn green. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted something lying there in the grass beside the road. 'Good God, it's a body!' She thought.
Common sense screamed at her to ignore it and go home. After all she could call the cops from there. Right? Her conscience had something else to say. What if that poor person was hurt or god forbid… dying. All these wild thoughts really meant nothing because she was already pulling the old pickup to the curb and jumping out of the truck.
Crouching down beside the body she could see it was a woman. The stink of stale beer and blood almost made her gag as she gently turned her over. What was a person to do in a situation like this? Was she dead? No… She pulled the long dark hair away from her neck and felt a thready pulse. A soft moan broke the silence. Janice let out the breath that she realized she'd been holding. "Hey Lady… are you okay?" She asked. Good grief! Of course she wasn't okay… what a stupid thing to ask. Oh well, it was hardly the time to spank herself for foot-in-mouth disease.
In the blue-white glare of the street light, the shadows were dark and unforgiving. Janice had to lean back to catch a look at the woman's face; her cheek was a mass of bruise and grass stain and lined with dirty tear streaks.
The woman was shivering and mumbling something unintelligible. Janice rocked back on her heels when she saw the ruined hand move up to scrub at a bloody nose. Another moan followed.
Scooting back to the truck, the small woman pulled a blanket from behind the seat. "Jesus Lady, what happened to you?" She asked wrapping the blanket around the injured woman's shoulders.
A gravelly whisper fell into the morning. "Drunk… Fell down… No problem." This was followed by a small hysterical giggle that was punctuated by a sob.
"Look, I'll tell you what, my name is Janice and my truck is right here. Why don't I give you a lift home?" Taking one arm over her shoulders Janice helped the woman to her feet. She was much taller than her small form and it took a bit of maneuvering for them to stumble over to the pick up.
She stood leaning against the truck as her savior opened the passenger door. The warm yellow of the interior light showed a bloody smudge the shoulder of the girl's T-shirt. "God, I'm sorry about your shirt." She said relatively coherently. "I'm not a drunk… I mean I don't usually…" She sighed, the girl was obviously just a good person, the kind that helped little old ladies across the street. And she was… exactly what she appeared to be: a stumblebum who had fallen over her own feet, covered in blood, beer, dirt, puke and god knows what else. It almost seemed criminal to touch this sweet person, to let her filth sully the upholstery of her truck.
"Hey, it's okay. It's just a shirt."
"No it's not okay." The tall woman reached inside her shirt and pulled out a medallion on a chain, she tugged it off over her head and held it out in a grubby hand. "It's not much but I want you to have it."
"You don't have to do this…"
"You didn't have to stop and help me… Take it. Please?" The woman's blue eyes searched the younger woman's face begging her to accept the small gift.
Janice could see the desperation in the ruined face and took the offering stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans. If she took this woman home, she reasoned, she could return it to her at a later date. "C'mon get in the truck and I'll drive you home."
Part 4
The trip to the woman's home wasn't really that far out of Janice's way, she was surprised however by the distance the woman had been trying cover on foot. If she had been walking from the bar strip downtown, then the entire trip would have been at least ten miles. She was impressed that despite her condition the woman had made it almost three-quarters of the way home.
"Number ten, Richey. Right?" She asked pulling up in front of a small house in a quiet neighborhood. Janice heard a small gasp from her passenger, who was staring at a sporty little green car in the driveway.
The whisper was so soft Janice wasn't even sure she heard it. "Oh God no!" The woman opened her door and put the blanket on the seat. "Thank you Janice, this was really nice of you." Her voice cracked, it almost looked like she was going to say something else, but she closed the door and started limping up the drive.
Janice shrugged to herself and drove on down the street. 'I guess that was my good deed for the day.' When she reached the end of the block a funny feeling started to bother her and she looked back over her shoulder at the woman's house. Strange, no lights had come on? 'What the hell…' she told herself and turned the corner and circled the block.
Wheeling the truck to a stop several houses down, Janice could see her sitting on the curb. Even in the gray light of false dawn she could tell that the woman was crying into her hands with the huge shudders of someone with a broken heart.
The woman didn't even look up as Janice walked quietly over to where she was sitting. "What's a matter? Are you locked out?" The tall woman looked up with surprise when the smaller blonde woman crouched down beside her.
"You could say that." She sniffed and ran bloody knuckles and sleeve under her nose. She looked away quickly hiding the embarrassment of being caught crying, the shame drawing her down in a ball of flame. "Thanks again for the ride Janice… Look, I'll be okay. Really." The words were meant to be a dismissal, but they came out crumpled and broken. Suddenly it was just too hard to pretend anymore. A large tear beaded and rolled down her cheek.
Janice was forever being teased by family and friends, that she was a big 'Softy'. Taking in strays, loaning money when she couldn't really afford it. It was this big hearted nature that moved her to kneel in the gutter in front of the woman and gathered her up in a gentle hug like a child with a skinned knee. She shushed and cooed quietly holding the big woman, rocking and stroking her hair.
Whatever fight or stubborn pride was left in the broken woman, drained away in a flood of tears. Being held was something her soul craved with a deep-seated hunger. Wishing. Wanting. Waiting. Without a question, she simply gave in to the wonderful feeling of arms around her. Another soul pressed up against her own. The soft meaningless words telling her that it was okay to cry and just let her self go.
"You never told me your name." Janice stated quietly, coaxing the woman to speak.
"Mel." The name slipped out into the cool morning air, shy and transparent like a ghost.
"Okay, Mel, I'm guessing but I think that there is someone here you weren't expecting and don't want to run into in your condition… Right?"
In a twisted sort of a way that was the truth. This was the ultimate in foolish pride when a grown person was afraid to enter her own home. Mel couldn't find the courage to look the young woman in the eye. If only she knew of all the times she had come home to find that green car in the driveway and had spent hours waiting until it left. Driving around, sitting in an all night diner or going to sit alone in a darkened theater waiting to enter the place she had worked for years to pay for. She had honestly believed that it wouldn't happen on her birthday. As the young woman leaned back all Mel could do was hang her head.
Janice cupped one hand under Mel's chin, and forced her to look up. "It's Okay… My place isn't very far from here. We'll get you cleaned up and get some sleep and I'll bring you back later. Things never seem quite so bad once the sun's up." She stood up dusted off her knees and held out her hand, the sincerity of her voice was warm and unassuming.
Taking the hand to pull her up from the curb the dark woman tried not to wince as the smaller hand clasped her ruined palm. She found herself back in the warm interior of the pickup and rolling away from her home and the hated green car.
Part 5
The fluorescent lighting of the kitchen was harsh after the long walk in the dark and the subdued lighting at the club. Mel blinked several times trying to get her vision to clear; this wasn't helped by the fact that her left eye was starting to swell shut. The pain in her hands and knees seemed secondary in comparison to the headache caused by doing a lip stand and a premature hangover. Squinting against the glare, she looked around the small but homey room all done in white and pale yellow.
A fat orange longhaired cat rubbed against Mel's legs. "Meowww…?" It pushed a square whiskered nose down and ran its face along one scuffed brown loafer.
"Mel meet Oscar… Oscar meet Mel." Janice offered with a chuckle. She scooped up the huge cat and scratched him between the ears. "He's trying to tell you that I never feed him and he goes years without ever being petted."
A small smile turned the corners of Mel's lips. It was a sad smile but still a smile all the same. "I think that Oscar is a practiced liar."
The little blonde woman stroked the cat a few more times and set him down on the floor. He protested loudly and proceeded to wind himself through her legs, increasing in pitch and volume at the sound of the can opener. The yowling stopped the exact second the cat dish hit the floor. "There… " She stood and placed the tin in the sink. "Now let's get you cleaned up and then you can give me a hand with the hide-a-bed."
The hot water hit Mel in the face with unexpected force; she winced and turned her back to the spray letting the stream beat at her shoulders like a penitent's flail. The fragrant shampoo had stung her torn palms and it was hard to stand in the small shower with her stiffening knee but it felt so good to be clean again, to wash away the musky smell of pain from her body. Emerging from the stall she found a large folded bath sheet on the lid of the toilet where her clothes had been. Shaking out the towel and wrapping it around herself, she limped over to the sink and ran a circling hand over the mirror to wipe away the fog from the glass. Inspecting the large bruise that started at her ear and ended at bridge of her nose, she heard a quiet tapping at the door.
"Can I come in?" Janice asked from outside the bathroom door. "I've got something for you to sleep in and some stuff for your cuts.
"Sure, come on in." Mel turned from the mirror to see the smaller woman enter carrying a bundle of clothing and a shoebox.
"Sit." Janice said pointing to the only seat in the room. "Here's a pair of shorts and a T-shirt for you, but I want to have a look at those cuts first." She piled the clothing on the back of the toilet tank and began spreading items from the shoebox out on the counter beside the sink. What else could Mel do? She sat.
As Janice was setting out her first-aid supplies when she happened to glance up into the hole in the fog that Mel had left in the mirror. In it the tall woman sat wrapped in a blue towel perched on the lid of the toilet seat. The towel brought out a the startling blue in her eyes even though she had a weary look on her face and half of it was covered in a large purple bruise. Janice could see that a scrape in the hairline above mouse had already started to ooze.
With quick and gentle hands, Janice cleaned and bandaged the numerous cuts and abrasions on Mel's forehead, hands and knees, the worst of which was the bone deep tear on the tall woman's left knee. "You really should have a doctor look at this." She said, cleaning bits of pavement and denim from the ragged wound.
"Yeah," Mel replied, dragging air through clenched teeth, as Janice poured peroxide into the wound and watched as it boiled away the last of the encounter with the sidewalk. "I'll limp into the walk-in clinic when they open on Monday."
"Oh really, Which one?" The blonde woman asked taping a telfa pad in place over the torn joint. "The one in the Mall, or the one downtown?"
Blue eyes looked up with surprise. "The one downtown. Why?" Mel frowned.
"Just curious really. I clean the offices at the one downtown." Janice turned away and packed the first aid stuff back in the shoebox. "Next time you're in there and you see the shiny tile floor you'll know it's thanks to me and a wrestling match with the power buffer."
Suddenly the image of this tiny woman struggling with the roaring, whirling, of a floor polisher struck Mel directly in the funny bone. She began to laugh. It might have been the exhaustion or the residual effects of the alcohol in her system but she laughed from deep in her belly for the first time in weeks. It felt great!
Janice leaned back against the sink and watched the transformation flow over the big woman's features. The change was startling, the broad white smile transformed the woman from lost and pensive, to warm and attractive, despite her battered face. The laughter was contagious and the small woman found herself laughing too.
Finally the guffaws subsided to titters and giggles. Mel wiped her eyes with some tissue from the roll. "Thanks!" She said smiling. "I think I needed that."
Janice grinned back, the corners of her green eyes crinkling. Placing her hand on Mel's shoulder, she gave it a little squeeze. "Put these on." She took the clothes off the back of the toilet and dropped them in Mel's lap. "I'll get some clean sheets. The spare room is down the hall, second door on the left."
Hobbling painfully down the hall, Mel found herself in a small room with a small sofa and a computer desk. When she removed the cushions on the sofa she saw a handle loop and grasped it pulling upward. The first part slid out easily but when she tried to fold out the second part of the mattress, the damn thing refused to budge.
"I was afraid of that." Came from the doorway. Janice set a bundle of linens she was carrying on the chair by the desk. "You might as well stop trying. It's done that before and it takes a couple of hours with a hammer to get it open." She walked over and gave the stubborn piece of furniture a kick and then pushed it closed and replaced the cushions. "You don't snore do you?" She asked.
Mel shrugged. "Not that I know of."
"Fine. Follow me." Janice led the limping woman to the next room. "You get the left side." She said indicating the king-sized bed.
"But…"
"I'm too tired for buts. Left side. Now go to sleep." Janice stood beside the bed with her arms crossed and waited until Mel went over to the left side of the bed and got in. "Good." She turned out the light and also got into bed.
Mel lay there in the dim light of morning for several minutes and then she whispered. "Janice?"
"What?"
"Thanks."
"You're welcome… Mel?"
"What?"
"Is Mel short for something?"
"Melvin."
"You're kidding. Right?"
"No, my mom had a weird sense of humour."
"Oh… I guess we better get some sleep."
Moments later soft snoring filled the room.
Part 6
Mel couldn't breathe. Or rather something pressing down on her chest was making it difficult to breathe. She opened her eyes to look directly into a pair of yellow eyes that were looking back. A little gasp left her throat and she lay there staring back at the cat until the scattered puzzle pieces rearranged themselves into the events from the previous evening and early morning. "Good morning Oscar." She petted his head for a few moments then gently encouraged the overweight feline to move off of her chest.
Getting up seemed to be another proposition all together. Mel was one giant bruise, even her hair hurt. A groan left her lips when she tried something as simple as sitting up in the strange bed. Closing her eyes for a moment she waited for the sharp pains of strained and pulled muscles stop protesting and recede to a dull throb. She gritted her teeth and swung legs out from under the blankets and over the edge of the bed. A strangled cry bounced around the room, it startled Mel until she realized it had come from her own lips. Her left knee refused to bend and the white-hot screaming pain eclipsed all the other aches and pains together. The room blurred in and out of focus. Mel lost her battle with consciousness and passed out cold, half on, and half off of the bed.
Janice stood in front of the washing machine inspecting the bloodied clothing of her unexpected house guest, trying to remember what her mother had used to remove this kind of stain. 'Tooth paste?' Wasn't that it? Yes, she decided and dug into the cupboard above the machine to find the tube she kept there. She rubbed the paste into the rusty discoloration in the frayed knees of the filthy jeans. A muted jingling stopped her from dropping the pants into the washer. She had forgotten to check the pockets. A quick survey produced a handful of change, a lighter, a battered wallet, and crisp envelope folded in half.
She didn't know why she did it. She wasn't a snoopy person by nature, still Janice found herself inspecting the contents of the envelope. Perhaps it was the mysterious sorrow of the tall woman. So there she was, pulling open the flap. Inside was a birthday card with the picture of a cane and a pair of glasses on the cover. "You're not getting older?" The caption read. Janice opened the card. "Yes you are!" It read inside in large red letters. The writing below was difficult to read but eventually she puzzled out… "Have a happy… Joe." Guiltily the janitor replaced the card in it's envelope and as an after thought dropped the coins in as well.
After treating the grass stains on the soft denim shirt, Janice dropped it in on top of the other clothing and started the machine. Oscar made his way into the laundry room and stretched himself halfway up Janice's leg. 'Meow?' He asked patiently. "Well hello there handsome." Janice said bending to greet the feline, when a cry of pain echoed down the hall. "Oh oh…" She told the cat and hurried down the hall.
Pound for pound, Janice was a lot stronger than she looked. Years of good old-fashioned hard work had made for a very solid base of muscle. All of them were put into play as she gently lifted and resettled the large woman back onto the bed.
Mel's face had a gray pallor, which only served to heighten the black-purple of her eye. She started to stir as Janice was laying her head back on the pillow. "Shit." Her raspy voice stated. Mel looked up to see the little janitor bending over her. "Hey…" she said embarrassed. "Sorry for being so much trouble."
"No trouble." The small blonde woman replied with a quiet smile. "You're in a lot of pain, huh?" She reached out and smoothed a delinquent lock of hair from out of Mel's eyes. "Stay put I'll go get you some pain killers."
The huge bed took up most of the room leaving little room for much furniture. A breeze teased at the curtains taking the edge off of the heat that was building in the sunny Sunday morning. Mel pushed herself up to a sitting position, biting her cheek from the pain of protesting muscles. Looking around she waited patiently for the small blonde woman to return. A squat dresser and a wooden chair sat in the far corner and the folding doors of a closet stood half-open. Small friendly and tidy just like the woman who lived here.
"Here you go." Janice said walking back into the room carrying a glass of water. "This is a pain killer and muscle relaxant the doctor gave me when I threw my back out last winter. They should turn the trick." She held out two capsules in the palm of her hand and the glass of water.
Gratefully Mel took them, noting in the back of her mind this was the same medication she herself had been given the last time she had wound up in emergency. It had been a separated rib from catching herself when she slipped on the stairs. At least that's what she had told the doctor.
"Would you like something to eat? You really should have some food to go with those pills." Janice asked taking back the empty glass.
"Oh no Janice, you don't have to do that. I've made a nuisance of myself enough already. As soon as these pills kick in I'll get dressed and be out of your way."
The little blonde woman looked embarrassed as she took back the empty glass. "Well… I'm afraid that's going to be a problem… I put your clothes in the washer. That's what I was doing when I heard you fall out of the bed."
"Oh." Mel closed her eyes in resignation and listened to the rustle of the drapes for several heartbeats before opening them again. "Thank you, you didn't have to do that."
Janice smiled. "It's okay, I always do laundry on Sunday. I just threw your stuff in with a load of mine." She made a show of pulling up the covers over the tall woman and turned towards the door. "Relax for a while and let those pills work. I'm going to fix us a bite."
Part 7
Grimacing at the heat in the laundry room, Janice reached down and flipped on the switch of the small fan that perched in the corner. The drier rattled away, swishing and clicking as zippers and buttons rode around in the metal drum. She glanced at the dial, noting that the cycle was nearly over. "They're just about done. You sit tight and I'll bring 'em down to you." She called, leaning out into the hallway.
"Okay… Thanks." Came back from the bathroom.
The sound of running water and the scrubbing of teeth told Janice that Mel had taken her up on the offer of a spare toothbrush.
The machine buzzed and thumped shuddering to a halt. Flicking the door of the dryer open, Janice stepped back and let the heat dissipate before leaning in to pull out the clean clothes. She inspected the sites of the previous grass and blood stains; pleased that other than the rents in the fabric, the tall woman's clothing had come cleaner than she expected.
Reaching up into the cupboards, she retrieved the items that had been removed from the pockets earlier. "Damn it!" She muttered, as the wallet slipped from her fingers and bounced off of the top of the washer and on to the floor, it's contents scattered at her feet. Stooping, she gathered them together and began tucking the various cards and receipts back in it's folds. She paused to look at the picture on the drivers' license.
Apparently Mel didn't believe in smiling for official pictures. Curiosity got the best of her and she checked the name. 'I'll be damned… her name really is Melvin.' Then she noticed something that caused her to return the ID to the wallet and quickly stuff it into the pocket of Mel's pants.
Janice walked down to the bathroom with Mel's clothing folded neatly in a pile. "Here you go." She said handing them over to the tall quiet woman, who took them without comment, only a nod and a shy smile of thanks.
Mel had spoken hardly a handful of words throughout breakfast; Janice put this down to her new friend's pain and embarrassment at her current situation. But when she watched the tall woman eat, there was a sad loneliness that spoke from her eyes where her lips would not. Now the little janitor puzzled at the enigma that was the tall woman in her bathroom as she scooped up Oscar and headed to the kitchen to finish the dishes.
As the last plate found its way into the draining rack, Mel limped into the kitchen. "I… Um…" She paused, her eyes searching the room looking for the words to convey her gratitude. "I just wanted to say thanks before I get out of your hair." Shuffling over to the door, she turned and held out one bandaged hand.
"Oh no you don't." The smaller woman said softly, intentionally ignoring the proffered outstretched hand. With deliberate care she folded the tea towel in her hands and hung it on the handle of the oven. Walking over to the door she scooped her keys off of the kitchen table. Glancing up at the surprised look on Mel's face, she simply grinned and reached to pat the tall woman on the shoulder. "Come on, I'll give you a lift home."
Seeing the determined look on the blonde woman's face, a shy smile crept slowly across the battered face. "You're used to getting your way. Aren't you?"
"Uh huh." Janice said over her shoulder, already heading out the door to her truck.
Part 8
The old pick up truck rolled to a stop in front of number ten Richey. Mel pushed open her door and gingerly pulled her lanky frame out of the cab. The door thudded shut as only a solid old truck could. She leaned in the open window and again offered her hand. This time the young woman took it, careful not to squeeze the injured palm. "You're a good person Janice." She spoke, her voice deadly earnest. "I can't thank you enough."
She turned to go.
Janice watched her limp away and then grabbed a pen and paper from the visor. She scribbled quickly and called out the window. "Mel wait a sec!" She hopped from the truck, hurrying up the drive to where Mel had paused to wait. "Here." She tucked the piece of paper into her hand. "Call me some time and we'll go for coffee."
Mel stood dumbfounded and mutely watched as the small woman trotted back to the truck. A smile and a wave and she was gone.
Standing there like a statue, only her eyes moved following the old red Chev until it turned out of sight at the corner. Awareness flowed over her in a tiny trickle. Ordinary sounds and smells of a Sunday afternoon. A lawn mower's hum. The smell of fresh cut grass tinged with the tar smell of baking pavement. Somewhere a dog barked in the distance. Mel looked up at her home and then around the small front yard.
The green car was gone.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned and continued up to the house. Finding the door locked, a key was retrieved from its hiding place. The tall woman let herself into the cooler air of the front landing. She basked in the privilege of having the house to herself.
The hum from the AC was her only companion as she eased herself back into her favorite chair. A dull ache from her knee told her that she'd have to take another painkiller soon, and the dull ache in her heart told her that she was alone…
No, not quite.
With the wry smile she smoothed out the paper she had crushed into her palm.
Mel.
I think you could use a friend.
Call me. 555-1212
-Janice
PS Happy Birthday.
How on earth did she know?
She folded the small note and slipped it into her wallet. The quiet secret of the embryonic friendship was the best present ever. The ache in her heart was gone, replaced with a loving feeling of someone who had seen her at her very worst and hadn't judged. Closing her eyes, she replayed the warm wonder of the small woman's hug, and the memory wrapped itself around her heart and stayed there. Nothing could ever steal it away.
…The Beginning.
(c) 1999 S. Day
Note: If the right amount of feedback presents itself, this will be the first in a series of Alt fiction dealing with recovery from physical and emotional abuse. Please let me know whether this worth pursuing or not. - Rocky