by Maggie Thom
The single closet door opened easily. Bailey grabbed blankets, sheets and towels and pushed them into a bag. Cleaners, shoe polish, bug spray and stuff she didn't want to know about, went into a box. She left the vacuum-cleaner sitting there as she knew she'd need it later on.
Next she went into the bathroom. Squatting, she opened the double doors under the sink. "Full" didn't describe it accurately. It was packed so tightly that not even another bobby pin would have fit. Grabbing some of the soft items, she pulled on them. Several things tumbled out. Nylons, cotton balls, pads of a brand that were no longer made, hair spray, room freshener. Behind that were old cleaners, more hair spray, hair products and other junk she didn't feel like digging through. All went in the garbage. In the back were full bottles of shampoo, lotion, hair goop and other stuff she really didn't want to go through, so she dumped all of it in the bag. Her knees cracked as she stood. The toothpaste, toothbrush, soap and containers were all used and not worth keeping, so everything on top of the counter got thrown out. Turning she leaned over the tub and grabbed all the rest of her mom's products and tossed them out. She stepped into the hallway, her immediate gaze locked on the doorway just down the hall.
"I can't go in there yet," she whispered but that didn't stop her from moving towards it, her mom's room. The door was wide open giving her a clear view of the immaculately made bed. She had always teased her mom that she could have bounced a coin off the pristine white comforter. Her mom had reminded her that there was no one to look after her and she better remember that. It was one of the few reasons Bailey was quite glad she hadn't come to visit her. She'd have had to clean for two weeks just to make it look livable. It would have taken a couple of weeks and an army of housecleaners, to reach her mom's standards.
There was no barrier stopping her from walking in but she couldn't step across the threshold. She stared into the place that she was going to have to find the strength not only to clean out but to enter. She wondered if people who went to visit a castle ever stood outside the front doors and wondered if they were good enough to go in.
Spinning on her heel, she walked to the living room. A flower-patterned love seat and rocker-recliner - which might have looked hip in the seventy's - and a china cabinet that held items purchased from garage sales, were the bulk of the furniture. She stood in front of the cabinet, looking through the glass at all the different salt and peppers, the cream and sugar sets. All were quite nice but had no meaning for Bailey. Her mom had collected them over the last five years. A white sugar bowl covered with several tiny dark red roses caught her attention. She opened the door and carefully picked it up. It really was beautiful and looked to be in perfect condition, no cracks, no dulling of color. Something rattled as she brought it closer. Reaching inside, she pulled out two items.
Gasping, she stared at what she held. Both were valueless and useless. She'd been seven when she'd given her mom the tiny, plastic rose and the clam shell she'd found on the beach. It had been her gift for Mother's Day. It had made her mom so happy. Tears had run down her face.
Mom kept these.
It truly stunned her that her mom had kept them. Carefully, she tucked those two items in her pocket, before putting everything back. The collection of twenty or so dishes had been the one thing her mom had spent hours polishing and sometimes just staring at with a sad look. Like she'd lost her best friend. It had never made sense to Bailey but then her mom had never shared what it was about, she debated about whether to keep the items. Deep down she knew she would. They were one thing her mom had been connected to. Stepping back she closed the door and ignored the rest of the items in the living room that she had no desire to keep - two faded TV trays, two scratched end tables, a heavy solid wood coffee table and tons of knick knacks - but she had no idea what to do with any of it.
Pack it up. I'll have to get some newspaper, I guess.
Bailey snorted. That was something her mom had collected a lot of and had a need to devour, every single one she came across. She watched every news program from sun up to sun down. Bailey had tried to teach her mom how to use a computer but that had become another fight between them. Her mom believed it was the government's way of keeping tabs on people. She'd begged Bailey not to ever be on it. Another puzzle she had given up trying to figure out. Pressure built behind her eyes. Her nose got that burning sensation. She closed her eyes and took a few slow deep breaths. Her fingers rubbed across her forehead until the overwhelming feeling went away.
Not wanting to think anymore she headed for the kitchen. She needed to find some phone numbers to call. The corner drawer, behind the door, is where her mom had always kept that stuff. She rifled through the junk but couldn't find the stack of envelopes which should have been there. Slamming it, she opened the deep second drawer and grabbed the yellow pages sitting on top and pulled it all the way out. It jerked loose in her hand and since she wasn't prepared for that, it fell to the floor, with a loud bang. Bailey jumped back, glad her pink toes were still that. A few inches more and they'd have been a bright red and she'd have been dancing around on one foot.
She set the papers and book on the table and started to clean up the mess - papers, pencils (enough for a first grade classroom), paperclips and lots of menus - mostly pizza places. She threw out just about all of it and then shoved the drawer back in.
That's weird. She was sure that her mom said she kept all her important papers in those drawers. But there was nothing there.
Deciding not to worry about it, she realized that the kitchen wouldn't be hard to do. There were only eight cupboards. She started to unload them. Everything fit on the six foot counter. Bailey frowned as she looked at the meager belongings her mom had. Chipped plates, plastic glasses, pitted bowls, stained containers - all went in the garbage.
A horrible feeling overcame her - she seemed to be throwing out just about everything her mom owned. Her mom would be devastated.
Maybe the second hand store would come, pack and pick it up?
Her eyelids dropped down, her head flopped backwards on her neck and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. There was no way she would get through this if she stopped to analyze everything she did. She needed fresh air. In her bedroom, she flipped open her suitcase and grabbed her running shoes. Once she had them on, she didn't hesitate to race out the side door. A cool breeze swept over her. She shivered. Her t-shirt did little to ward off the morning air. She retreated to grab her grey and blue spring jacket.
Back on the sidewalk, she headed north. The neighbor's rose bushes were covered in buds - pink and peach. The scent was so strong she didn't even have to slow down to get the full smell. She breathed in deeply. Pansies, irises, petunias and many other flowers she didn't know filled the front of the house. The woman didn't seem to want to follow the Alberta rule, not to plant until after the long weekend in May. Frost was sure to kill off most of her plants. The next house had flowering trees and many varieties of flowers as well.
She'd been fifteen the last time she'd begged to have some flowers in their yard. Her mom's first excuse had been they moved too much. The next one had been that they were too much work. The third one had been that she was allergic but Bailey had seen her many times stopping to admire and smell other people's gardens. The last one had been that all those pretty colorful blooms did was attract attention and it wasn't just ants and bugs.
No flowers.
No pets.
No friends.
No pictures.
No home.
No life.
Her pace increased as the memories flooded back.
She never seemed to know what her mom wanted from her. She never seemed to please her or give her what she needed. There were times she wasn't even sure her mom liked her.
As a sob tore past her lips, she clapped her hand over her mouth. She was running now, barely paying attention to the few vehicles traveling by on the streets. At the end of the block she turned left for half a block and then raced across into the park beyond. Big poplars loom
ed over her, as she ran down the empty walking path. She was thankful that it was mid day, middle of the week. There was no one.
Her hand clutched her chest as she sprinted on. How long she continued she didn't know but at one point she became aware of the sound of pounding feet behind her. Stopping, she whirled around. The person following behind grasped her shoulders as they collided. He spun landing on the ground with her on top. Bailey shrieked. Her elbow dug deeply into a well muscled belly as she scrambled upwards.
"Ooommph." He jerked upright and then flopped backwards, his arms cradling his gut.
She backed up as the person curled on his side, gasping for breath.
"Sorry," he finally managed to croak out.
"You're the guy from yesterday." Bailey moved back a few more steps, balancing on the balls of her feet.
"Yes. Give me a minute."
"You're stalking me."
"No." He shook his head emphatically as he sat up and draped his arms over his bent knees. "Uuugggghhhh."
"Why are you following me? Was there a problem with my mother's funeral?"
The guy frowned.
"You're from the Funeral Home, right?"
Wary, sky blue eyes stared back at her. Secrets were hidden in those depths. That she would bet on. She was sick and tired of the games people played. Her mother had been a master player. She moved a few more steps back and spun on her heel.
"Wait. Please don't go." He sucked in some air and rolled onto his back. "I promise I won't hurt you... at least not physically."
She paused, the toe of her right foot barely touching the ground. She glanced around before slowly turning. There still wasn't anyone around. It was a rather secluded area of the park, which wound down towards the river that ran through the city. Her mom had told her that it was so popular she'd been thinking of moving again. There was traffic all day on that path. Not once had she been able to go for a walk and not run into someone.
Great. So where in the hell are they today?
Bailey swung her gaze back to the guy, realizing that she probably shouldn't be taking her eyes off him. If he made a move she wanted at least a little bit of warning.
"Look. I need to talk to you."
"So you tackled me?" Bailey glared at his bent head. "Are you freakin' nuts?"
"Right now I'm thinking so." He continued to breathe as though he'd had the wind knocked out of him. He lifted his head. "Look, you were upset and I guess I'm a sucker for a damsel in distress."
She refrained from putting her finger in her mouth and make gagging sounds. But just. She studied him a little closer. Cute. He's cute. Why are all the nut jobs cute?
He placed his hand behind him, pulled his feet up to his butt.
"Don't get up." Bailey's hand flew up like a traffic cop directing traffic. "If you want to talk stay there or I'm out of here."
"My butt's getting wet." He raked his hand through his thick hair but it fell back into place as though he hadn't touched it. "I don't know how to say this."
"Good. Then I'm gone." Bailey spun around and started walking quickly.
"You're not you," he called out after her.
CHAPTER TEN