by Maggie Thom
Bailey rolled over for the tenth time, her body protesting. She flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling above her. Frustrated that her eyes were wide open, when she felt anything but rested, she finally gave up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet accidently hit her black two inch heel shoes, which she'd kicked off at some point in the night. She nudged them to the side, before standing. Her legs felt shaky like she'd been running a couple of marathons. While gaining her equilibrium, she took a deep, almost defeated breath as she shrugged out of her horribly wrinkled blue coat and tossed onto the chair in the corner. Her outfit wasn't in much better condition. Rubbing her hands down over the soft material of her two-piece pantsuit, she worked at smoothing out the pleats that now adorned it.
She flipped her suitcase onto the bed and opened it. Her toiletry bag was tucked into the right front corner. Opening it, she pulled out her shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste then headed into the bathroom across the hall. She tossed everything onto the counter and then stepped back into the hallway to get a towel from the closet just outside the door.
Ignoring her mom's voice ringing in her head, don't waste water, Bails. It's a luxury. Don't get used to it, she spent forty-five minutes showering until there wasn't a drop of hot water left. Then she climbed out of the shower and dried off. Too many times when they'd moved, they hadn't had enough clean water to do more than sponge bath once or twice a week.
Sorry, Mom but I needed this. I think it's okay I used all the hot water this time.
In the bedroom, she yanked on jeans and a t-shirt and brushed her hair. Her stomach growled, her body's way of telling her that she couldn't keep avoiding the tasks facing her.
Get it done and get home, played out in the back of her mind.
She dealt with her hair by putting it into a ponytail then headed to the kitchen and put two slices of bread in the toaster. She leaned up against the sink and looked outside. Blue clear skies and beautiful rays of sun greeted her. A few cars drove by. Her mom had loved that it was a quiet street off the beaten path.
The toast popped up, the metallic jangle of the toaster echoing in the empty room, barren of anything that suggested love. She had no deep connecting memories in this house. She'd barely set foot in it in the five years her mom had lived here.
One thing did come clear. Her mom was no longer here. She really was gone.
A vacuum opened up in Bailey, a hole that she didn't know how to plug. She clutched her chest as sobs rocked her body. They'd never be together again.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. What was going on with you, Mom?
Giving up any pretense that she was going to be able to stop this, Bailey dropped into her mom's chair at the table. She laid her head down and gave in to the pain that had been gnawing at her for a few days. Tears ran down her face as she shook with the finality of it.
She'd never touch her mother again.
She'd never hear her mother's voice again.
She'd never be able to say "I'm sorry" again.
Her mom would never be here again.
They'd never be together again.
Anguish wrapped her in its claws, holding her tight, closing off her throat. It gnawed at her stomach, until it was empty and churning on the verge of heaving. She ached in every corner of her being. Her emotional storm went on for so long she wasn't sure it was ever going to end.
Finally, the tears subsided. Bailey lay there for a long time, feeling a lot like she imagined a rag would after it had been used to scrub everything in sight and then tossed into the corner - damp, limp and fully wrung out. She didn't care if she ever moved again. Her stomach growled. Stunned, she snorted in disbelief. Her mom had always told her that her body would keep her on track. As a kid she'd been able to eat all the time. One time after getting off a ride at the fair, she'd puked her guts out and five minutes later she'd wanted a hamburger.
Again, her belly protested loudly at her failure to feed it. It startled her. Laughing self-consciously, she stood and walked to the fridge. She pulled out the jam and spread it on her cold toast. She nibbled on it as she made her way back and flopped down into her mom's chair. Resting her elbows on the table, she picked up her mom's cup and cradled it in her hands. Life is a guilt trip waiting to happen.
She smiled. Her mom had loved that saying but Bailey had no idea why since it was rather depressing. Turning the mug, she noted the smudge of lipstick on the back side. Ruby Red, the only color her mom would wear. She rubbed her thumb just under the spot. She could almost feel her mom's lips.
Shaking her head, she realized she could sit there and morosely think about all that should have been. All that she regretted and all that she should have done. She could 'should' herself to death or get busy with the things she had to do. Her mom's things needed to be sorted. She needed to decide what she'd take and what she'd give away. Her mom had left all the contents to her. The house had already been taken care of. The lawyer wouldn't budge on what that had meant. Why had her mom let her believe the house was hers - bought and paid for? If it had been and her mom had sold it, the money wasn't going to Bailey.
They'd never had much in their life. Her mom had never wanted to own something she couldn't leave behind or get rid of quickly, just in case she decided to move. And she had been a master mover. Twenty seven times in the first eighteen years of her life. Then after she'd moved out, there'd been a few more moves. Only the last five had been in the same place. It was a record.
Bailey looked around. The lawyer had told her to take her time - she had all of three weeks to get all the stuff packed and out. No pressure. But then she wasn't sure her new job offer would wait that long for her.
The envelopes her mother had left her popped into her mind. She'd stashed them in the glove box. She needed to give some time to them to figure out what her mom wanted her to know. But not now kept running through her mind. She'd look at that stuff when she had time to take all this in, time when she was at her home.
She stood and stretched. Her body creaked and cracked enough to make any eighty-year old proud. She grinned at that thought. Feeling lighter than she had in a long time, she stepped over to the cupboard, took out a set of keys and headed out the door. Nestled in the back corner of the lawn, was a small shed. She crossed the dry, brittle grass that was starting to show a few green blades and made her way to the small shed. She put the key in the lock and then just held it. It felt like she was unraveling another secret her mother had. This was another place she'd never been in. Anytime she'd offered to cut the grass or clean out the shed she assumed it would need, since she knew her mom was a bit of a pack rat, her mom had turned her down.
She turned the key, yanked off the lock and thrust open both doors. Her forward movement was halted. Boxes and boxes and boxes filled the small shed. She used her nail to cut the tape and pry open one end of one. Newspaper. Pulling frantically, she hauled newspaper after newspaper out, tossing them carelessly onto another box. Then she opened another one, only to find the same thing. Once she stopped acting like a mad woman, ripping and tearing, she realized the containers were dated.
Jan. 2004 to Dec. 2006 - Vancouver and Victoria Newspapers.
Jan. 2004 to Dec. 2006 - Edmonton Newspapers.
Jan. 2004 to Dec. 2006 - Ottawa Newspapers.
All were dated and seemed to hold major newspapers from across the country.
She dropped her face into her hands. What was it with her mom and the news? She'd gotten ones from across the country and that was how she'd seen Bailey's picture in the paper. The picture they'd argued about. Her mom still didn't want any publicity when it came to her. To either of them. The idea of it almost gave her a heart attack.
Or maybe it had. That article about her helping that poor family had sent her mom over the top, when she'd read it. All Bailey had done was to remodel a low-income family's home. It hadn't been meant for publicity but her boss at the time had been more than thrilled to use it to drum up business.
Reality crashed in
.
"Dammit."
"Dammit."
"Dammit."
There was no way she was going to get through this if she couldn't stop those thoughts from creeping in. Later she could kick the crap out of herself. She shut off her mind and got to work. She finished emptying the box she'd started yanking stuff out of and proceeded to empty five more, not sure how many she'd need for the household stuff. There was a kid her mom used to get to do her lawn. She'd try him first and see if he'd like to make some money.
She locked the door, grabbed hold of all the boxes and headed back into the house. She tossed them into the living room and then went back to the kitchen where she took a few garbage bags and the garbage can from under the sink.
She put all of it in the hallway, before going back to the phone. On the wall was a list of phone numbers. Scanning it, she realized she only knew a few names - Mr. Lund - lawyer, Mrs. Tyner - neighbor but that was it. Lawn mowing - Jason. Figuring that had to be the young kid, she called him up. After talking with his mother for a few minutes, they arranged for a few local kids to do that job. Bailey felt guilty, only offering them two hundred dollars for doing it. But the lady seemed happy.
The phone clicked as she set it down. The simple act drained her. She rested her head on her arm for a minute and took a few deep breaths. After a brief moment, she stepped back and looked at the list. Not sure why, she tore it off the wall and tucked it into her pocket. Sighing, she forced herself to get to the work that she needed to get done. She headed down the hall.
Time to get some things cleaned out.
CHAPTER NINE