She Looked Around and Didn't Recognize Anyone

  (Note:  This is a fiction story, but based on what I can imagine might have taken place had my father died before my mother, instead of how it really happened, that she died first.)

 

Minnie peered out the front window, looking for the mailman.  It was about time for him to come. She looked around and didn’t recognize anyone. There was a young woman pushing a baby stroller talking to an older woman who had a big German shepherd on a leash.  Across the street a man was mowing his lawn with a riding lawnmower. It wasn’t totally surprising that Minnie didn’t recognize anyone.  She had only lived in this small town about six months and she didn’t really know anyone except for Gwendie, of course, who had her own house a few blocks from her small apartment.  Minnie didn’t want to be seen hovering by the door waiting for the mailman—that might seem desperate—so she peeked out the window when she heard his little truck stop out front, and waited until she heard it drive off again before she stepped out into the hall and walked the few steps to the mailboxes.  That’s when she’d run into Mrs. Johnson, the next-door neighbor, who was sorting through her mail and depositing most of it in the nearby recyle bin. 

“Hi,” she said to Minnie. “I’m Mable Barnes.  I live right next door to you.  I’ve seen you come in with, who’s that, your daughter?”

 She’s been peeking out the window, too, thought Minnie. 

“Yes, she said,” that’s my daughter Gwendie.  She lives over on Maple Drive. She’s who persuaded me to move here after my husband died.  She thinks I’ll be better off here than back in Florida when I’m from.” 

I’m talking too much, she thought to herself. 

“Well, said Mable Barnes.  You’re a lucky one.  I’ve got two kids right here in Asheville and do you think I ever see either one of them?  No way.  They’re busy, tied up, in the middle of something, every excuse you can think of.

“That’s too bad,” said Minnie.  “I will say Gwendie’s been real good to me since I’ve been here.  She calls every day and stops by almost every other day.  She and a friend of her helped me to unpack and get settled and get pictures up and whatnot.” 

“Well, good for her,” Mable said.  “We’ll have to have coffee together one of these days.” 

Minnie didn’t get a chance to say that she doesn’t drink coffee because Mabel was off down the hall and into her apartment before Minnie could get the words out.  Oh well, Minnie thought.  Probably doesn’t matter.  She’ll probably never really get around to inviting me anyway.  And she headed back the few steps to her own apartment.

Well at least I can tell Gwendie that I have, too, met someone and even had a conversation with her.  She’s afraid my being shy is going to keep me isolated.  I actually don’t mind being what she calls isolated.  I like my privacy.  I don’t need the phone ringing and people running in and out.  I do like it when Jonathan comes with his Mom, though, although he’s getting to be a typical teenager and isn’t much interested in long talks with me.  He just wants to watch TV or play his video games and drink tons of Pepsi.  I don’t guess I should say anything about that to his mother, though.  I’ve always thought the grandparents should keep out of the parenting of the grandkids.  Joe’s Mom and Dad and my Mother and Daddy never criticized how Joe and I handled the girls.  Well, how I handled the girls.  Joe pretty much left everything about child-raising to me.

The phone rings.  The regular phone.  Minnie has insisted on having what Gwendie calls a landline, and Gwendie has insisted that Minnie also have a cell phone. 

“Hello,” Minnie says, knowing who it will be. 

“Mama, it’s me.  I’m calling to invite you to something special on Saturday.  Our Board for the Women Writers Scholarship Fund is having a Book Fair on Saturday at one of the local churches not too far from here.  You’d enjoy it, I think.  I have to put in a couple of hours working the registration table and you could come along.  It’s a bunch of local writers each having a table and putting out their books for the public to browse through and hopefully buy.  The proceeds will go to the Scholarship Fund.”

“I don’t know, said Minnie. It’s hard for me to stand for any length of time, you know.” 

“You can sit down any time you want to, Mama.  I’ll have a special chair for you.”

“I don’t usually buy books either, Minnie said, now that you take me to the library every week.” 

“You don’t have to buy anything, Mama.  It’s like a store, you just look and only buy if you see something you really really want.”

“Well, I’ll see, said Minnie. We’ll talk on Friday night and I’ll see how I feel about it. Talk to you soon, then.  I love you.  Bye-bye.”

Minnie hung up the phone.  She’s determined to get me out of this apartment, Minnie thought to herself.  She’s as stubborn as her father was.  And maybe like I am too.  I guess she comes by it honestly.  But I thought I was doing OK in Fort Pierce after Joe died.  I wonder now why I let her talk me into that move up here.  I miss a lot of things back there.  Not really friends, though. I didn’t have all that many friends of my own.  Mostly we saw Joe’s family and our neighbors.  Our old friends have died or moved away.  And Joe had his own friends at the coffee shop that I didn’t ever meet until the funeral.  Lord, they were so nice at the funeral, coming up to me to say, “You don’t know me.  I was one of Joe’s buddies at the Donut Circus.  He’s sure gonna be missed.  They don’t make ‘em any finer than Joe Roberts.”  She’d thanked each one and was surprised at how many there were.  

She hadn’t cried much then.  She wasn’t much of a crier, and she hadn’t cried at all since the move.  What’s the use?  We all have to make the best of whatever situation we’re in. But after the funeral she hadn’t contemplated moving, not until Gwendie started putting her two cents in.  Now, it’s been a year since Joe died and six months since she moved here and Gwendie is still doing what she considers gentle pushing to get her to quote, have a life, unquote.