Lost

 
She paced back and forth in front of the 7-11 staring at the pay phone. Amazing invention, the telephone, you just poke the little buttons and WA LA, someone you haven't talked with in years is right there on the other end of the line.

She paced a couple minutes more and finally walked over, put her worn-out bag on the sidewalk and picked up the receiver. She rooted around in her coat pocket and came up with some coins--two quarters, two dimes and three pennies. A call from Florida to Texas was going to cost a lot more than seventy-three cents. Collect--mom always accepts my calls. At least she did when I called--what--three years ago.

After the operator connected the number, an excruciating pause ensued. Seconds actually.It seemed to Heather that she could have run around the block six times before she heard a ring on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"This is Heather, mom." She could care less about me. She dropped me off at a 7-11 store just like this, over five years ago.

Unbelievably she heard, "Heather. I can't tell you how glad I am to hear your voice. Are you okay sweetie? Where are you? "

"I'm in Florida, mom. I've quit drinking," she lied, "and I have a job."

"Aw Heather, that's fine, that's just fine." She could have sworn she heard her mother crying.

"Are you still working, mom?"

"Not so much anymore. What is your job, sweetie, where do you work?"

There was a long pause.

"Heather, are you still there?"

"I'm here."

Another long pause--how could she begin to tell her mother about her life?

"What's wrong?"

Heather's hands began to shake--she swallowed back a lump in her throat. "I only work now and then, mom. I spend a lot of time in the hospital."

She heard a crack in her mother's voice when she spoke. "Sweetie, why don't you come home, you've tried to do this alone long enough. It's time to come back."

Heather's bottom lip began to quiver, her eyes stung with tears. "I can't live there. I can't get along with the family, I can't even try."

"Then it's time you did."

A man walked by and stared at her as her tears fell from and down her cheeks. She turned her and leaned her head against the glass enclosure. "Mom, I have to go."

"Give me a phone number, some place where I can reach you." Her mother sounded frantic. "Please don't hang up."

Heather placed the receiver back on the hook. She picked up her worn out bag. Digging around inside, she found enough change to go with the seventy-three cents she already had. Enough to go inside and buy a beer.

She made her way across the highway to her place in the park and pushed her piece of cardboard under a tree. After rummaging around in her bag, she found a reasonably long cigarette butt and a lighter. She popped the top on the beer and chugged it, but only took one toke on the cigarette before stubbing it out in the grass. Dropping the butt back into her bag for later, she lie back on the cardboard and fell asleep.

* * *

Groves of apple trees covered the hills as far as she could see, giving shade to the sheep grazing lazily on the cool green grass growing over the hillsides. Down by the house, chickens picked at the bare dirt in the back yard, searching for whatever morsel might be lurking there. Hogs lay in the cool mud surrounded by a crudely built pen, which leaned to one side. Piglets squealed insistently, trying to coax the old sow to let them have a teat.

Pa took Heather by the hand. "Let's go get a drink of cider, young'un."

Heather smiled at her father, forgetting whatever it was she'd been doing. Her black curls bounced in the sun as her tiny bare feet moved as fast as they could to keep up. Her excitement grew as they walked to the river that made its way down the valley between the house and the barn.

Under a massive pine tree, a wooden door lay flush with the ground. Pa hoisted the heavy door open, revealing the top of a wooden barrel. When he lifted the lid, the aroma of apples, mixed with the rich scent of damp earth filled her head. He lifted a dipper off a rusty ten-penny nail hammered into the tree and scooped up some cold cider.

She took the dipper from his rough hand. His whiskers brushed her skin as he leaned to kiss her cheek. Heather held the bowl of the dipper with both hands. Cider filled her mouth, cool and sweet, a portion spilling over her chin and onto the front of her little blue overalls.

* * *

Heather sat up and gazed around the park. So clear, so exquisite was this dream, it took a moment to adjust. She longed to be in that wonderful quiet place. To have a simple life with simple needs. To taste sweet cold apple cider from the barrel buried beneath the earth beside the river. Her heart sat like a rock in her chest. She yearned to hold again the hand of the father in this dream.

This is no dream…this is a nightmare straight from hell.

Chill bumps rose on her arms, she massaged her cramping back. She sat cross-legged under the tree next to her tattered bag, staring down at her hands--the jagged dirty fingernails. She tucked them under her legs and squeezed her eyes shut against her tears. Her mother's worried voice still rang in her ears. "Please don't hang up."

Emptiness in her soul poured out, "Oh God, help me. I do want to go home."

 

 

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