Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [17]
So, like a crazy woman, I paced back and forth, trying to figure out where to put everything. It was like trying to work a giant jigsaw puzzle with too many pieces. Finally I gave up and decided to give the kitchen a thorough scrubdown with the new Super Orange cleaner and package of sponges that I found in the bottom of one of the paper sacks. I felt certain this apartment hadn’t been cleaned in decades, and at least this was something I could do.
I think it was three in the morning when I finally stopped scrubbing. And then, without giving too much thought to order or organization, I simply stowed everything I could in whatever space I could find and left the remaining items sitting on the counter like orphans.
Then I sat down in my green canvas camp chair and began creating a list of other things I would need. I wrote this on the back of my grocery receipt, only listing the basic things, like clothes hangers and a laundry basket and maybe a few dishes and a pan or two. After all, I told myself as I got ready for bed and realized I had no towels or washcloths or even a shower curtain, I didn’t really deserve anything more than the basics. Of course, I might do this thing differently if Jacob ever came to live here with me. I would at least want to have another chair or two. And maybe a coffee maker.
I finally unfurled my foam pad and navy blue sleeping bag and, wearing my T-shirt and old jogging shorts for pajamas, crawled into this makeshift bed and realized that I’d forgotten to get a pillow. I wondered if inmates were afforded the luxury of a pillow, and if so, it would probably not be one of goose down or even feathers. But perhaps tomorrow I could sneak back into my house—rather, Geoffrey’s house—and retrieve my favorite pillow. There were just some things a person shouldn’t have to do without.
I awoke to the sounds of loud voices and footsteps stomping overhead. It took me a moment to remember where I was as I crawled out of the twisted sleeping bag and rubbed my very stiff neck. My watch said it was six thirty, but I wasn’t sure whether it was morning or night until I looked out the window and decided it must be morning. I shuffled into the kitchen and looked around. The plywood cabinets and plastic counter-top looked bleaker than ever in the morning light. Among the leftover grocery items still sitting on the counter was a bag of coffee beans, Morning Blend. But, of course, I realized now that I had no grinder. Not only that, I had no coffee maker. I sat down in my camp chair with the bag of beans in my hands and began to cry. What had I done to deserve this?
Finally the tears subsided, and it suddenly occurred to me that I might be losing my mind. What if right now Geoffrey and Jacob were sitting at the breakfast table, enjoying a fresh brewed cup of coffee and discussing college plans for Jacob? What if Jacob had returned home last night, sorry for all he’d put us through, and what if he’d apologized to his father, and they had hugged each other and cried and said,“Let’s start over again.” What if? What if I was sitting here like a crazy woman, torturing myself for no good reason, and meanwhile all was well at home? Or even worse, what if all was well at home except for the fact that no one knew where I’d disappeared to, and what if I was now the source of stress in our lives. I dashed to my little bedroom and began haphazardly pulling on my clothes. Then I ran down to my car and quickly drove across town to apologize to my husband and son, to plead a sort of temporary insanity.
But when I got home, no one was there. And judging by the neatly made bed in our room, I knew no one had been there. I checked the message machine and found two messages. I pushed the button and waited.
“Hi, Glennis. This is Sherry, just checking to see how you’re doing. You’ve been on my heart these past couple of days, and I’m praying for you. Give me a call. We should do lunch or something.”
I thought about Sherry as I waited for the next message. Perhaps I should give her a call.
“This is Russ at the lumberyard,