Life Happens on the Stairs

by Amy J. Markstahler

  “Sir, I won’t disrespect her, or you. I just want you to know that you can trust me, and I’ll treat her right.”

  I wanted to scream like the Bears had just won the Super Bowl. Tyler looked up and his dark eyes found mine. My stomach fluttered as I held my breath.

  “Elizabeth.” Dad’s voice rolled through the silence. “Does your mother know about this?”

  I jumped. Tyler gasped and sat up.

  “Dad!” I said, slapping my hand to my lips.

  He coughed out a laugh.

  “That’s crazy,” Tyler said, leaning back in his chair, pressing his hand to his chest.

  “I thought you were in a coma! Oh my gosh, you scared the crap out of us.”

  “Little girl,” Dad said, “you should know by now you can’t sneak nothin’ past me.”

  Dad always caught me. Whenever I was doing something wrong, he loved to bust me. He’d say, “Whatcha think you’re doing?” I’d let out a screech, and he’d grab me up in his arms, bellowing laughter as he hugged me and kissed my cheek.

  “How long have you been awake?” I asked, hoping my heart would slow down.

  “I woke to my little girl telling me she’d brought someone to see me. I heard a man introduce himself, so I thought I’d listen.” Dad pushed his eyes open further, and then he rolled his head toward Tyler. “It takes a hell of a man to come talk to a corpse. I know your family. Do you realize what you’re getting into?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Getting into? I glanced at both of them. What the heck did that mean?

  “Nice to meet you again,” Tyler said, looking Dad directly in the eyes.

  “Likewise,” Dad said. “You wouldn’t bullshit a man on his deathbed, would you?”

  “You have my word.”

  “Good.” Dad slowly turned to me. “Now Elsie, you’d better tell your mom about this. Don’t get yourself in a mess. Okay? And don’t drag me down with you. If she finds out you came to me first, we’ll both be in big trouble.”

  “I’ll talk to her soon,” I said, reaching out to take his hand.

  He tried to talk some more, but his words slurred together. We sat with him for a few more minutes, and then it was clear he needed to sleep.

  As we headed out of ICU, Aaron was at the main nurse’s station.

  “He’s having a good day, isn’t he?” he said. “The doctor took him off his medication this morning. Did he wake up for y’all?”

  “Yeah, he woke up,” I said. “See you soon, Aaron.”

  “Yep, I’ll be here, Elsie. Nice to meet you, Tyler.”

  Tyler waved. Panic surged through me. Mom would be here in a few hours. What if Aaron said something about Tyler? I let go of his hand and darted to the nurse’s station.

  Tyler stopped and waited.

  I leaned against the counter. “Hey,” I whispered to Aaron. “Don’t say anything to Mom about Tyler, please?” His eyes sparkled like he loved a good secret. I continued, “I haven’t exactly told her I’m seeing someone. Can we keep this between us?”

  “Keep what between us?” He grinned. “I never see anything but my patients.”

  “You rock, Aaron.”

  He winked, then took a quick glimpse of Tyler. “Enjoy your evening.”

  “You, too.”

  When I returned, Tyler took hold of my hand and led me out of the hospital. Deep in thought, we walked in silence, both at a loss for words. After we stepped outside, he let me go and threw his arms in the air.

  “I almost had a heart attack!”

  “I know, right?” I laughed. “It’s totally like Dad to do something like that.”

  “I’ll never forget it,” Tyler said, shaking his head.

  For the next hour, we talked like time didn’t matter.

  “I’ll let you go,” Tyler eventually said. “Will Saturday night work for you?”

  Relief flooded me for having an extra day to find an outfit. “Yeah, sounds good.”

  “Saturday it is. Six o’clock. What’s your address?”

  “The back hills.”

  “Elsie... ”

  “All right. 1708 West McAllister Road. Do you know how to get back there?”

  He pulled out his iPhone. “This can get me anywhere I need to go. When you enter this part of the twenty-first century, I’ll explain more.”

  He gave me one last kiss goodbye, and then we both climbed into our cars.

  All the way home, I thought about the day. Tyler’s declaration to Dad spoke volumes about his character. What nineteen-year-old would be willing to say those things to a girl’s father, one on his deathbed, no less? Tyler’s willingness to commit had been remarkable from the start, and our first kiss had finalized the deal. He’d confessed his feelings to me, but I never thought he’d declare them to Dad. After telling Dad I would talk to Mom, my conscience swelled with a whole new pressure. I’d promised him. I had to talk to her.

  When I walked inside the house, Mark was sitting in the recliner, eating ice cream from the carton.

  “That’s gross,” I said. “You’d better finish it or throw it away.”

  He scooped the spoon from the container, exaggerating his next bite.

  “I know what you’re up to,” he said with a mouthful. “You can fool Mom, but you’re not fooling me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You probably aren’t even fooling Mom. She’s just too busy to care. Who are you meeting? I know it ain’t some girl. Who is he?”

  I gave him my best “wouldn’t you like to know look” and left the room.

  Churning over his comment, I knocked off each task on Mom’s list – scrubbing the bathroom, throwing in a load of laundry, washing the dishes. I stopped at the window in the dining room and scanned the five acres behind the house. I couldn’t even see the peppers. The weeds had grown higher than the crop. My stomach rolled over. I had to get out there.

  I went to the living room and picked up a handful of Mark’s trash, while he continued to sit in the chair watching TV. When I couldn’t take another second, I grabbed the paper plate and cup he’d ditched on the end table and threw them on his lap.

  “What the hell?” he yelled, jumping up, dropping the trash onto the floor.

  “Clean up your own mess,” I shouted. “You suck, Mark. You won’t do anything, and then you sit there letting me clean up your mess. At least get out in the field and pull some weeds. The crops are going to shit!”

  He gaped at me, pants soaked in soda pop and spaghetti.

  I huffed and went to the bathroom.

  Rule of the house: The bathroom was a safe place. No busting in on someone else’s bathroom time. I locked the door as rage welled inside me. My inability to forgive him, and his insistence on being the laziest person in the county, made it impossible for me to show him any kindness. I paced from one end of the room to the other, a total of three steps each way. I counted each one, turned, and counted again. I wanted to run. I wanted to run and hide.

  I stopped and looked in the mirror. I hadn’t thought about running since Tyler and I’d started jogging together. Of course, Mark could provoke all of my childish ways to rear up again. I took a few deep breaths and thought about Saturday night. I needed something to wear. Determined to be the bigger person, I headed to the kitchen and grabbed my car keys.

  “Where are you going now?” Mark asked as he cleaned up the plate I threw.

  “None ya business.”

  Twenty minutes later, I parked in front of The High End Thrift Store in downtown Savannah. The not-so-clever name of the boutique was where I hoped to find a dress. I’d been inside with Mom once, but I’d never tried to find anything for myself before.

  The shop was clean, organized by color and size. The racks were packed with various dresses, women’s jeans, blouses, and pretty much anything a girl would wear. I found the right size rack and after searching for a few minutes, I pulled a simple black dress off the hanger. In the dressing room, the silky fabric felt soft as
it fell over my skin. A V-neck cut, it covered my scar and came over the shoulders just enough to hide the one on the back of my arm. I liked how it stopped right above my knees, showing off my toned legs. Finally, the benefit of jogging showed. I had awesome-looking legs. The dress was perfect.

  I needed shoes too, but this part was a bit out of my comfort zone. My personal policy: Don’t wear other people’s shoes. But these were desperate times – little time, little money. I scanned the shelves for a clean pair of black heels. The selection was good, most of them were nice, but I didn’t like any of the styles.

  Hidden on the top shelf was a pair of red-bottomed, black pumps. The scarlet soles were barely scratched, a good indication they’d hardly been worn. I grabbed them. They were exquisite – smooth black leather, three-and-a-half-inch heels. I ran my finger over the print on the ivory lining. It read Christian connected to a swirling script spelling out Louboutin.

  Lou, who? I flipped them over and the price tag read ninety dollars. I thought I was at a thrift store... I had a hundred and sixty dollars and the dress was fifty-five. I could do it, and it was totally worth it if they fit.

  I sat on a bench, slipped on both shoes, and slowly stood up. Perfect. A bit painful, but perfect. I gathered my items and headed to the cashier.

  “Ooh,” the young lady said. “You found some gems here. Special occasion?”

  “Yes.” I smiled. “A date.”

  “Well, you’re gonna be gorgeous in this.”

  She folded the dress and placed it in the bag.

  As I walked to the car, I couldn’t stop smiling. I’d found the perfect outfit and couldn’t wait to spend my evening with Tyler, hidden in my private world.

  Chapter 10

  Tyler and I met Friday morning for a quick run. I had to be at Mrs. Baltic’s house by nine, then go to Smith’s. Our morning jog and the thought of going on a date the next day helped me endure the idea of cleaning, but it took everything in me to leave him. After a long kiss goodbye, he stayed to run a few more miles, and I pouted all the way to Savannah. All I wanted was to have a day to myself, to do whatever I wanted. Then guilt overrode my pity party. I couldn’t imagine how Mom yearned for a normal day, too, so I sucked it up and drove on.

  I pulled into Mrs. Baltic’s driveway at nine. She stood on the step, holding the door open. The plump contours of her body pushed the seams of her pink robe. Her hair was twisted in curlers, and cheap Avon perfume mixed with the hint of mothballs rolled off her as I stepped inside. Mrs. Baltic meant well, but she required a lot of patience. She waddled behind me, while I grabbed the rags, wood polish, and toilet cleaner. Then, she followed me from room to room, talking the entire time. I’d smile and shake my head yes or no, trying not to sigh or roll my eyes (she might have caught me once), but if she asked a direct question, which was rare, I’d force myself to answer in a neutral tone. After ten minutes, I tuned her out and screamed in my head: Why don’t you clean your own house if you can follow me around?

  A half hour later, she finally wore herself out and went to get a glass of tea. A twinge of guilt twisted inside of me for being annoyed. People probably thought I was too quiet, maybe even rude, but if I said what I was thinking, they would’ve despised me. Before I left, she gave me an awkward hug and handed me a check written to Mom. I said goodbye and headed across town to Mr. Smith’s.

  Mr. Smith sat at the kitchen table, eyes drooping, head swaying back and forth. Drunk already and it wasn’t even noon yet. I wanted to avoid him, but he kept the cleaning supplies under the sink in the kitchen. Tiptoeing to the cabinet, I quietly gathered what I needed. I clutched them to my chest and started across the room. The bathroom was a safe place, right? If I could make it there, maybe he’d leave me alone.

  “Miss, El... Elsie,” he slurred.

  I stiffened and slowly turned around. “Hello, Mr. Smith.”

  “You’s late again.”

  “No, sir. Mom called you yesterday,” I said, inching toward the hallway. “I had to clean another house before yours.”

  “Come on in here.”

  I bolted to the bathroom, shut the door, and locked it. Panting, I pressed my back to the wall. He’ll fall asleep. Calm down, he’ll fall asleep. My arms shook as I set the cleaners on the counter. Get it done and get out, that was my best option.

  I tried not to skimp, moving as fast as I could. I had to do a good job for Mom; her reputation was on the line. But the bathroom was nasty. I gagged three times as I scrubbed the toilet. While wiping down the counter, I had to stop and pick toothpaste out of the sink, and then I polished the faucet. His teeth sat next to the soap and cringing, I wiped around them.

  The bathroom alone was worth the sixty-dollar paycheck.

  Forty minutes later, I stood by the door, contemplating how to clean the kitchen. I pulled out my phone and texted Mom.

  Me: Mr. Smith’s drunk. I’m a little freaked out. Do I have to clean the whole house?

  Several minutes later...

  Mom: Please finish. He will take a nap soon. I need the $60.

  I groaned and texted her back.

  Me: Seriously? I told you he’s drunk. You can keep my $10 from Baltic.

  I sucked in a deep breath, walked down the hall, and grabbed the vacuum cleaner out of the closet. Ten minutes later...

  Mom: How’s it going?

  I ignored her until I finished vacuuming the floor. Tiptoeing toward the entrance, I glanced in the kitchen. Mr. Smith had his head cradled in his arms on the table. A gargling sound echoed from the room.

  Me: He’s asleep. I’ll get it done.

  Thirty-seconds later...

  Mom: Thank you. Will you stop by Vaughn’s and drop off the pay checks?

  Me: Sure.

  She had no idea how happy I was to read that text. I’d do anything to get a glimpse of Tyler. I flew through the rest of my chores, glancing over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure Mr. Smith wasn’t lurking. Then, I returned the supplies, grabbed the check, and hustled out the front door.

  After ordering a meal at Jack’s drive-thru, I drove to the Vaughns’. A chicken sandwich and a pop helped me perk up. Driving down Main Street, I turned on Riverside Drive. The estate spread several acres to the west, trumping every other house near them. Tyler’s Mercedes was parked in front of the garage. I slowed to give myself time to calm the butterflies in my stomach.

  The driver’s side door of Tyler’s car opened. He stepped out. I rolled a little closer, feeling a bit like a creepy stalker. He walked around the front of the car, opened the passenger’s side door, and offered his hand. A beautiful, blonde woman stepped out beside him.

  Who the hell was that? My stomach flipped, threatening to reject the chicken sandwich. I pulled over on the side of the road and watched.

  She stood a few inches shorter than Tyler, golden hair spilling over her shoulders, dark jeans covering the entire heel of her spiky pumps. She carried an oversized handbag that annoyingly matched her printed blouse. She turned my way and I gasped. Absolutely stunning. Jealousy consumed me. They followed the sidewalk toward the front steps, his arms wrapped around her shoulder. She leaned closer to show her affection and he squeezed her close. Ever the gentleman, he pulled the front door open, holding it for her, and then they stepped inside.

  I wiped away the tears clouding my eyes and texted Mom.

  Me: I don’t feel good. Ate a nasty chicken sandwich. Gotta go home.

  I waited for her to answer, tears streaming down my face. A beep alerted me to a text.

  Mom: Okay. I’ll run home before I go to the hospital.

  Me: Thanks.

  Attempting a U-turn, I couldn’t get the car turned around without backing up. Forward then backward. Rage boiling inside, I slammed the little Honda on drive and stomped the gas.

  I had to get away from that house.

  Who was she? I was an idiot to think I could have a guy like him. Filthy rich, dressed in designer clothes even when jogging, Tyler’s world was light
-years beyond mine, a world I’d never belong in. Why had I gotten close to a guy so out of my class? Of course, he had girls breaking down the door. That woman looked incredible. Not a hair out of place, her ensemble perfect, accentuated by proper posture, she practically floated when she walked. And the way he put his arm around her! Who was she?

  I followed Coffee Landing Road into Morris Chapel. At the last second, I whipped the wheel to the right, pulling into Ruby and Woodrow’s driveway. I turned off the car and looked in the rear-view mirror.

  Ugh, I thought. I looked like a peasant.

  Ripping my hair out of my ponytail, I moved it around to cover my red face.

  When I walked up to the front porch, Woodrow sat in his chair, picking ticks off his dog, Ranger. He’d pull the insects off and throw them down, popping their swollen bodies with the toe of his boot into a bloody mess on the decking. Ruby stood at the screen door.

  “Hey, y’all okay?” she asked, wiping her hands on her blue apron.

  “Your daddy all right?” Woodrow asked.

  “Yeah, everyone’s fine.” I sounded pathetic.

  “You’re upset about something,” Ruby said, stepping outside and letting the screen door slam. “What’s the matter, honey?” She wrapped her arm around me. “Come over here and sit.”

  She pointed to the swing and we walked across the porch and sat down. She pushed the swing back and forth with her toes.

  “You want some tea?” she asked, then she shouted, “Woodrow get us some tea, an’ quit pickin’ them ticks off that ole’ dog.”

  “It’s okay, Ruby,” I said. “I don’t need anything.”

  “Now,” she said, ignoring my comment, “you sit here and tell me what’s on your mind.”

  She turned in the swing so she could look at me. Woodrow attempted to stand several times before his legs cooperated, and then he limped inside.

  “Ruby, I’ve met a boy,” I said, starting to cry.

  She sat up straight. “Y’all ain’t pregnant, is you?”

  “No way! He’s... I saw him with someone else.”

  “Mm, hmm.” She eyed me. “Who’s this boy belong to?”