“Yeah. So?”
“So he’s bringing home a regular paycheck to put a roof over your head. What else do you want?”
A typical line of reasoning from her father. What did love have to do with anything if you have a place to live? He had a heart of gold, but sometimes it got tarnished from the long hours of hard work at the garage. Daisy looked him in the eye. Even though she was twenty five, staring down her father still made her feel like she deserved a medal of valor. “How about some respect? Gary treated his dog better than me and the dog ran away two months ago.”
“Then I guess it’s good that you’re here. Cut your losses and choose a better man next time.” He took a long swig of beer and added, “I really mean it about finding a better boyfriend. I don’t want a loser for a son in-law in the future.”
Daisy pushed beans around with her the fork, arranging them side by side like a picket fence. Both of her parents had obviously been worried about ending up with Gary as a son in-law. If only she could wrap a fence around her heart and protect it. At the moment it felt like it had been dragged behind a car on a dirt road. Better man next time? There wasn’t going to be a next time for a very long time. If once bitten was twice shy, where did twice bitten leave her? Too freaked out to even read a romance book, let alone think about going on a date. There was no danger of dear old dad getting a son in-law anytime soon.
After dinner she helped wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. Her father was already stretched out in the recliner in the living room when she and her mother settled onto opposite ends of the couch. A stock car race thundered on the television. Daisy had retrieved a knitting project from the plastic storage bin. Her mother slipped on a pair of tortoise-rimmed glasses and pulled a battered paperback book out of the magazine rack end table. The narrow, black scarf snaked across Daisy’s lap as her knitting needles clicked in a staccato rhythm. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her dad’s eyes were closed. A little nap before bedtime. At least she wouldn’t have to explain any more of her dysfunctional, failed relationship to him.
As Daisy worked the simple stitch sequence the day played out like a movie looping through her mind. It was really, finally, definitely, completely over with Gary. Not that it had ever been good, but the relationship had been crumbling like a sandy cliff in a monsoon over the past couple months. The idiot probably wouldn’t even bother to call to see if she left him or had been abducted by aliens. The quiet swish of her mother turning a page plunged another thought into the tangle that was already crowding her brain. She needed to get to work in the morning, but now the book store was five miles, instead of five blocks, away. Unless there was some kind of magical portal that had manifested in her wallet, it was still empty. Busses didn’t take sticks of gum or old receipts as payment. She had been walking from Gary’s apartment to save money, but that wasn’t possible now. There wasn’t a shower in the bathroom at the store to wash off the stinky sweat from walking so far on a humid, summer morning. “Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” Her mother tilted her head down to look over the top of the dime store magnifying glasses. “What’s up?”
“I’m going to need to take the bus to work in the morning and I don’t have any money. I spent my last two dollars buying spaghetti for the dinner I left on the stove at Gary’s.” Daisy put down the knitting needles and ran her fingers through her tangled hair. Begging mommy for money. Real mature and grown up. “I get paid tomorrow, but can I borrow ten dollars for bus fare so I can get to work and back?”
“That isn’t a problem.” She got up, unearthed a crumpled bill in her purse and handed it to Daisy. “I’m surprised you’re flat broke. You have a decent job still, don’t you?”
“Yes, I work at a book store, but I had to buy all of the groceries for both of us as well as paying half the rent.”
“What a charmer. No reason to waste his money when he can find a woman to pay for everything.” Her mother dropped back onto the couch. “I have enough to worry about with your little brother, I don’t need to end up in the loony asylum because of you kids.”
Nice. A chance to move the spotlight elsewhere. She’d have to remember to thank little bro for providing a diversion. Or maybe not. That would actually involve being nice. And talking with him on purpose. “What’s Bobby done now, besides being a lazy leech?”
Her mother’s fingers drummed on the cover of the book. Since there was no reprimand for calling him a slimy insect, she was probably feeling the same way. Blood might be thicker than water, but that didn’t mean a mom couldn’t get pissed about her children’s questionable life choices. “He finally has a job. It’s the trashy girlfriend that spends all of his money. She’s the problem.”
Poor mom. Her babies were ruining their lives dating losers. “Where is Bobby? He still lives here doesn’t he?”
“Who knows. Probably boozing it up with her again. He’s liable to come home in the middle of the night, so don’t start screaming thinking he’s a burglar. I need to get up at four.” She used the remote to shut off the television then slowly stood. As she passed in front of the recliner she nudged the footrest with her thigh. “Come on, Hank. Time for bed.”
Her father grunted a goodnight as he shuffled into the bedroom. Her mother yawned and stretched as she limped down the hallway. Years of waitressing were taking a toll. Her chocolate brown hair was peppered with gray strands. Often she winced when she stood up or sat down. Daisy glanced at the clock hanging on the wall behind the television. It was only 9 p.m.
“Here are some sheets and blankets,” her mother said as she returned and tossed a pile of white linens on the end of the couch. “We’ll shut our bedroom door so you can keep the lamp on, but please don’t turn the TV back on. I can’t sleep with the noise.”
The master bedroom door was to the left of the entertainment center. The sound would seep right through the wall. “No problem. Have a good night and thank you for helping me.”
Her mother just nodded and shut the door behind herself. Daisy tucked the sheet, that smelled of a pungent combination of bleach and flowery fabric softener, around the couch cushions. She found pajamas in one of the garbage bags full of clothes and headed to the bathroom for her usual pre-bedtime routine. After changing into the PJs, applying zit cream and brushing her teeth she returned to the living room and settled in under a light, fleece blanket to knit. The sound of her father’s buzz saw snores filtered through the bedroom door. Would he continue through the entire night?
Luckily the stitch pattern she was using was easy and mindless because she kept going over options of where else she could live, instead of counting stitches. All of her friends either lived with their boyfriends or were crowded into small apartments. Most of them would let her crash on a couch for a few nights, but nobody had room to let her stay. The front door slowly swung open. Bobby peeked through the opening and jumped back when he saw her. Obviously he wasn’t expecting anybody to be in the living room after 10 p.m. A sneer was plastered on his face as he quietly shut the door behind himself and crossed the room to tower over Daisy. There was a threatening edge to his voice as he asked, “What are you doing here?”
“I left Gary and needed a place to crash for a bit.”
“So you came running home to mommy and daddy.” The sharp scent of alcohol on his breath cut through the stench of sweat surrounding him like a toxic cloud. Her mom had been right about what he’d been doing. He smelled exactly like Gary did on many nights. Eau de Loser, the scent every respectable woman should run from. He continued the verbal assault. “You’re such a loser. Don’t even know how to please a man enough for him to keep you around.”
Bobby was annoying when he was a child. A tormenting punk as a teenager. Now, as an adult, he was just a nasty idiot. Her parents must be so proud. Not.
“I’m better off without him. Too bad mom and dad can’t rid themselves of their resident shit head.”
He balled his hand into a fist and cocked his a
rm back. Daisy froze. How had her little brother turned into this kind of man? Exactly the type her parents were warning her to stay away from. He laughed and turned away, holding his hand behind his back so she could see his uplifted middle finger. She definitely needed to find someplace else to live, the sooner the better.
At the book store the next morning Daisy grabbed her favorite mug out of the cabinet. It was made of clear glass. She loved to watch the creamer swirl through the dark coffee like an invading spirit. She glared at the coffee maker. Why was it taking so long? The brown liquid trickled into the carafe at a tortuously slow pace. Her back muscles throbbed. She bent over and tried to touch her toes, but was so stiff her fingertips only made it to her shins. The stretch helped a bit, but it still felt like she had slept on a sack of marbles. Her parents’ couch looked fluffy and squishy, but looks were deceiving. Finally the coffee maker started gurgling, signaling the caffeine-filled, life saving beverage was done. She ripped open a couple packets of sugar, dumped them into the bottom of her mug and filled it with steaming coffee. A splash of amaretto flavored, non-dairy, fake cream completed the glorious morning cocktail. She took a sip and winced. A scorched tongue was a small price to pay in exchange for actually acting like a living human being, instead of a zombie.
“Good morning!”
Daisy flinched from the unexpected, chipper salutation. She had been too brain dead to notice Mary, the store’s owner, come into the break room. Her mind had better kick into gear soon or she would be shelving books in the wrong area and giving customers incorrect change. “Hi.”
“Hi? That’s it? Where’s my usual, sunny Daisy?” Mary plucked a rainbow-colored mug out of the cabinet. Her long, gray dreadlocks flipped to the side when she bent to retrieve the carton of whipping cream out of the small refrigerator nestled under the counter near the sink. As she squirted a ribbon of thick honey into the mug she said, “Oh, no. Something happened with Gary, didn’t it?”
All she had said was hi. How did Mary figure that out? “Um . . . I left him. He came home drunk and didn’t like what I had made for dinner.” Daisy closed her eyes and took a fortifying gulp of coffee. “I freaked out about the way he as acting. I guess I finally had enough of his shit, so I packed up my stuff and got the hell out.”
Mary poured a splash of coffee on top of the cream and honey mixture that almost filled the mug. The rich, sweet concoction was her boss’s favorite beverage, but it made Daisy’s stomach do flip-flops. Why didn’t she just warm the cream in the microwave instead of adding the tiny bit of coffee to heat the artery-clogging drink? Mary took a sip and said, “Good. Glad to hear you’ve finally left that loser. He wasn’t good for you.”
Another critic. Mary was like a mother to most of her employees. She had no qualms about dispensing her unique brand of wisdom, often unasked for, but she had never said much about Gary. “And you didn’t tell me what you thought of him before because?”
“Because some life lessons you just have to learn on your own. You need to set your man bar higher.”
“My man bar. Is that like a salad bar?” The image of a salad bar stocked with body parts like six pack abs, blue eyes and dimpled cheeks floated into her mind. “You know, video games are the only place you can construct a perfect man.”
“I mean bar as in a level of expectation. Don’t stay home waiting for George Clooney to call, but you can do so much better than your last two sleazy boyfriends.”
Daisy winced. There was nothing like getting slammed with a freight train of truth before she had finished her first mug of coffee for the day. “My face is covered in acne scars and I’m built like a man, not exactly prime dating material for most guys. I may be a blonde, but I get the bottom feeders in the dating pool.”
“My dear, you need to hang around with nicer boys, ones that aren’t hung up on a woman’s looks or themselves. You have a fabulous personality that more than makes up for your little physical glitches.”
You have a great personality and that’s what really counts. How many times had she heard variations of that prime piece of advice? Men that didn’t care what their girlfriends looked like were a myth. “I’m terrible at choosing men. I need to stop worrying about finding a date and concentrate on the things I do well, like selling books and knitting.”
Mary flashed a goofy, toothy grin. She nodded at the main room of the book store. “Why don’t you refill your coffee and unlock the door while I get the cash register set up. Then come talk to me some more.”
Daisy checked the clock on the coffee maker as she refilled her mug. It was time to open. Luckily mornings were usually slow. It wasn’t like people were lined up outside, waiting to be let in when she flipped on the electronic Open sign. Maybe she could get the conversation with Mary over before nosy customers started coming in to potentially eavesdrop. Some of the regulars were almost fixtures of the store, like the easy chairs and step stools. They came in and browsed for hours, looking for new literary treasures that Mary had unearthed. The fewer people that knew about Daisy’s failed personal life, the better. She hurried to the checkout counter after completing the sign lighting, door unlocking circuit. “So what did you want to talk to me about?”
“First off. Where did you stay last night? My couch is available, if you need it and don’t mind dealing with Patsy and Cookie.”
Patsy and Cookie were Mary’s cats. Huge, fuzzy creatures who curled up on any lap that became available in their owner’s apartment. Sleeping in the same room with the furballs might actually be dangerous. Being smothered by a cat in the middle of the night was not the way she wanted to leave the world. It was nice to know that Mary’s place was an option, but she hoped to find some other, less potentially lethal, living arrangement.
“I slept at my parents’ house last night. They said I can stay until I find somewhere else to live, so Patsy and Cookie can keep their places on your couch for awhile.”
“If you get tired of staying with your parents, you’re always welcome at my place. Okay?”
“Thanks.” Competing with kitties for their favorite sleeping spot sounded better than her parents’ apartment, but she didn’t want to impose on her boss. “If I don’t find an apartment soon I might decide to take you up on the offer. The couch is about as comfortable as a bed of nails and my little brother is a real dickhead. I’m embarrassed to admit I’m related to him.”
“Little brothers. I think their place in life is to torture older sisters. Believe me, I understand. Mine is a real piece of work. His last, guaranteed profitable business venture landed him in prison.” Mary rolled her eyes as she hopped onto the stool behind the register. “Enough about crazy family, though. I want to talk about something else.”
What else could she want? Daisy’s stomach gurgled. Was she going to cut her hours, or worse, ask her to clean the bathrooms? “Okay.”
“Gary was the reason I could never schedule you to work after 5 p.m., right?”
“Yes.”
Mary rubbed her hands together. “So you can work evenings now?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful! I have a new task for you.”
Daisy used a pair of scissors to slit the tape on a box that was sitting on the counter. The money from working longer hours would be nice, but Mary’s cryptic line of questioning was freakier than usual. Her boss was always a little eccentric. Gray-haired women in their 50’s usually didn’t sport a head full of fat, felted dreadlocks. The psychedelic, flower child wardrobe just added to the exoticness - or weirdness. Whatever plans she had in mind seemed to be exciting her to the point that Daisy was afraid sparks would start shooting out of her hair if she built up any more static electricity from rubbing her hands together. Better to just bite the bullet and get it out of the way before Mary self-combusted. “What would you like me to do?”
“Be the instructor’s assistant during the class on Friday night. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body, but you’re perfect for the job. I know you’ll love Anita, to
o.”
The book store had a large selection of craft and art books, so Mary had come up with the idea to offer classes in the evenings a few times a month to help draw customers in. So many people had signed up for the first session, to make altered books, there was a waiting list. Mary’s request wasn’t as bad as she had expected, but she wasn’t any more qualified to be the assistant than anybody else that worked at the store. “I doubt I’d be any more helpful than you, but I can help with the class.”
“You’re a natural-born artist. Stop being a silly denialist.”
Denialist? Now she was inventing her own words. Working at the book store was hardly ever boring. Mary always called Daisy an artist and she was insanely uncomfortable with the label. She unraveled sweaters and reknit the yarn into funky scarves and hats. That was more like creative recycling than art. “I’m not a real artist and we both know that.”
“Whatever.” She waved her hand at Daisy’s comment, like she was shooing away a fly. “Thank you, sweetie. Now I have a few other requests.”
Daisy set the pile of books she had removed from the box back down on the counter. Here it comes. She nodded.
The Queen of Bad Decisions Page 2