door behind me. Joe was definitely a conundrum.
I slept fitfully, sitting up with every creak in the house. I got up multiple times and peeked out the windows for lurkers in the bushes. I checked the locks at least five times. When I got up at nine o’clock the next morning, I was tired but eager to busy myself with the day.
Momma’s curtains seemed like a good place to start. I stood on the arm of the sofa to take them down. The old, tattered fabric fell, dust flying everywhere as it pooled on top of the sofa back. I needed new curtains; these would never survive the washing machine.
But first, I needed to get all the blood off the wall.
After getting a big bowl of hot soapy water, I scrubbed the dried splatters, which proved difficult to remove. I scrubbed harder and paint came off on the sponge, leaving bare spots on the wall. I sat on the arm of the chair and surveyed the damage. There was no way around it; I had to repaint. Suddenly, I had a new plan for the day, something to take my mind of my worries. I would repaint the living room and buy new curtains. And get a cell phone too.
I wanted to stand out in the yard and shout to the world. Look at me ! I ’m making my own decisions !
Instead I grabbed my purse and locked the side door with my new keys, glancing over at Joe’s house as I got into my car. His car sat parked in his driveway and I reprimanded myself for even looking. What did I care if Joe McAllister was home?
I went to the cell phone store first, overwhelmed with all my choices. I felt very grown up when I picked out a phone and signed a contract. A legally binding contract. Something deep inside prickled at my joy, saying I was twenty-four years old, this was not that amazing, but I shushed it. I was gonna let myself enjoy it.
Next stop was the hardware store. I studied the paint colors, overwhelmed again. I told myself it was to be expected. For a woman not used to making decisions, I was forcing myself to face plenty of them recently.
My fingers slid down cards as though they were jewels, just waiting for me to pluck them out. I finally settled on a soft, pale yellow. The man in the paint department was helpful since I’d never painted before, assisting me with rollers and tape. He even disregarded my vision that his cat had clawed the side of his dining room table.
Walmart was next. I forgot to measure the windows, but there weren’t many choices in lengths. Overwhelmed anew, I finally decided on plain off-white panels that would be soft and breezy with the pale yellow walls.
On my way to the checkout, something soft and shiny caught my eye. I was passing the edge of the lingerie department, if you could really call the underwear/pajama section at Wal-Mart lingerie . My gaze had found a nightgown, a kind I had never worn before. It looked more like a slip than a nightgown, only it was a soft lavender and covered in tiny deep purple flowers. My fingers reached out to touch the fabric before my mind could tell them to be reasonable. Once they touched, there was no dissuading them. My fingers were ensnared by a nightie. As they slid over the silky cloth, my mind wondered what it would feel like to wear such a thing.
My face burned with shame. When had I turned so wicked? But the nightie was planted in my mind and sprouting like a fast-growing weed, spreading and choking out every thought until there was nothing left but the want of it. To shut up my evil thoughts, I pulled the hanger off the rack and stuffed it under the curtain packages. Then I looked around to see if anyone saw me.
When I checked out, my nervousness made me jittery. I half expected the girl at the register to give me a look of reproach, but she scanned the curtains and stuffed the nightie in the shopping bag without even flinching, as though she did that sort of thing every day. Then again, I guess she did.
I hurried home, eager to start my new project. But first, the blood-stained sofa had to go.
After shoving the
I slept fitfully, sitting up with every creak in the house. I got up multiple times and peeked out the windows for lurkers in the bushes. I checked the locks at least five times. When I got up at nine o’clock the next morning, I was tired but eager to busy myself with the day.
Momma’s curtains seemed like a good place to start. I stood on the arm of the sofa to take them down. The old, tattered fabric fell, dust flying everywhere as it pooled on top of the sofa back. I needed new curtains; these would never survive the washing machine.
But first, I needed to get all the blood off the wall.
After getting a big bowl of hot soapy water, I scrubbed the dried splatters, which proved difficult to remove. I scrubbed harder and paint came off on the sponge, leaving bare spots on the wall. I sat on the arm of the chair and surveyed the damage. There was no way around it; I had to repaint. Suddenly, I had a new plan for the day, something to take my mind of my worries. I would repaint the living room and buy new curtains. And get a cell phone too.
I wanted to stand out in the yard and shout to the world. Look at me ! I ’m making my own decisions !
Instead I grabbed my purse and locked the side door with my new keys, glancing over at Joe’s house as I got into my car. His car sat parked in his driveway and I reprimanded myself for even looking. What did I care if Joe McAllister was home?
I went to the cell phone store first, overwhelmed with all my choices. I felt very grown up when I picked out a phone and signed a contract. A legally binding contract. Something deep inside prickled at my joy, saying I was twenty-four years old, this was not that amazing, but I shushed it. I was gonna let myself enjoy it.
Next stop was the hardware store. I studied the paint colors, overwhelmed again. I told myself it was to be expected. For a woman not used to making decisions, I was forcing myself to face plenty of them recently.
My fingers slid down cards as though they were jewels, just waiting for me to pluck them out. I finally settled on a soft, pale yellow. The man in the paint department was helpful since I’d never painted before, assisting me with rollers and tape. He even disregarded my vision that his cat had clawed the side of his dining room table.
Walmart was next. I forgot to measure the windows, but there weren’t many choices in lengths. Overwhelmed anew, I finally decided on plain off-white panels that would be soft and breezy with the pale yellow walls.
On my way to the checkout, something soft and shiny caught my eye. I was passing the edge of the lingerie department, if you could really call the underwear/pajama section at Wal-Mart lingerie . My gaze had found a nightgown, a kind I had never worn before. It looked more like a slip than a nightgown, only it was a soft lavender and covered in tiny deep purple flowers. My fingers reached out to touch the fabric before my mind could tell them to be reasonable. Once they touched, there was no dissuading them. My fingers were ensnared by a nightie. As they slid over the silky cloth, my mind wondered what it would feel like to wear such a thing.
My face burned with shame. When had I turned so wicked? But the nightie was planted in my mind and sprouting like a fast-growing weed, spreading and choking out every thought until there was nothing left but the want of it. To shut up my evil thoughts, I pulled the hanger off the rack and stuffed it under the curtain packages. Then I looked around to see if anyone saw me.
When I checked out, my nervousness made me jittery. I half expected the girl at the register to give me a look of reproach, but she scanned the curtains and stuffed the nightie in the shopping bag without even flinching, as though she did that sort of thing every day. Then again, I guess she did.
I hurried home, eager to start my new project. But first, the blood-stained sofa had to go.
After shoving the
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