OLWG# 425 Prompt: What the hell was I thinking?

One Summer I  helped my Great Grandma Agnella move some of her paintings and portraits covered in dust cloths  from the basement to her sitting room. That was the last Summer Nan would be with us and I’m guessing that’s why she wanted the pictures upstairs where she could see them.

I brought them to where she was sitting in her rocking chair near the window, she examined each one after I uncovered it, she looked around the room and told me where to hang them.

” You know, we Macdowells were the first in town to have modern conveniences like cars and television sets and even in door plumbing. But do you know what we didn’t have?” Nan asked me.

My Nan sat in her chair, working her jaw from side to side- her face was wrinkley and she was pale but her green eyes were unnaturally bright.

I could tell that this one thing  that we didn’t have really, really did bothered  her.

”  A family portrait. I couldn’t get my sister or my  Dad  my good for nothing Uncle George to sit for a family portrait.  I had pictures of their dogs and cars and a cabin that we had up on Camano Island, but no family portraits and EVERYBODY around here had at least one of those. Everybody except for us. ”

When Nan said ” except ” I could hear her grinding her teeth together.

To be honest, I couldn’t imagine anyone on this side of the Grave telling Nan ” no ” for any reason.

I hung the pictures as the afternoon wore on and it did take time because the pictures had to be hung in exactly the right spot. I didn’t mind putting the time in. I’m kind of particular about things myself.

Finally there was one last portrait left and it was covered in a gray sheet. It had a little mold on it.

“Well Cami, eventually I got what I wanted.”

That came as no surprise to me.

” I got them to sit for a family portrait. I kept telling them it wouldn’t kill them to dress halfway decent and sit for a picture but guess what. ”

She reached out and slid the cover off of the picture of her Dad and her Sister and her good for nothing Uncle sitting on the settee that is still in her living room. Their eyes were closed and they looked dusty and very , very dead.

” It did kill them- what can I say? Most of the time I’m right but sometimes I’m wrong.”

OLWG# 425 prompt: A handful of dimes

Since she was a teenager ( she is now well into her 50′ s) Fanny Ingalls stops by the cemetery on her way home from the bus stop that is two blocks away from her family home.

When she was a kid she used to imagine what was going on in those coffins that dotted the hills and the terraces of Leaning Birches Cemetery. What she pictured were skeletons dressed in old fashioned clothes, they had hair and their bony hands, with patches of dry skin still clinging to their slightly arched fingers sat upon their empty rib cages like spiders resting in the center of their webs.

Fan isn’t sure where the thought first came from, but she also saw that the watches- the wrist watches, the pocket watches were still ticking away softly in the dark

click click click they whispered

click click click.

In her pocket, or if it was to warm to wear a jacket, she kept in her backpack in an old beaded coin purse that she bought on one of her family trips to Victoria, the beads were still bright red and most of the white beads that spelled out ” Canada ” were still there- in her souvenir purse Fan kept a handful of dimes.

On her way home from work she would stop at the Cemetery gates and look around on the ground. She ran her hands along the middle bar of the fence and sometimes- not all of the time I should say,  she would find a dime.

Some of the dimes she found  were very old and she supposed they might be collectible. Some of the dimes were brand new and others were just a few years old.

She would reach into her back pack ( or pocket ) and she would fish out her coin purse. Sometimes she would hold the dime up and look at it and other times she would just drop it into her purse.

Then she would push the gate open and she would start her walk on the way home.

Fan’s Grandpa once told her a story about the Ferryman ( who was a relative of theirs apparently )  and how the dead would pay him a gold coin to cross the River that divided the land of the living  from the land of the dead.

Not everyone owned gold, she knew and that sounded like an awful lot of money. She always wondered  what happened to those souls that couldn’t pay. Nothing good  she guessed, and she also decided it was unfair.

That was why she only charged them  a dime to bring them back.

Click Click Click.

 

Inspired by OLWG Prompt #421- Now I have a new goal

” Angelita Brentus! ” her Mother used to say with despair and anger dripping from each syllable in Angelita’s name ” would it kill you, would it hurt you to just smile? Why must you walk around with that sour look on  your face?”

Angelita would look down at her shoes and sigh. Then she would look up at her Mother and she would work her mouth from side to side.

” My smile is so ugly Mom. It’s so big toothy. I hate it Mom. I’m sorry.”

” You don’t look sorry Angelita Brentus. You sound like you’ve got something stuck in your throat. Do you ? Do you have something stuck in your throat? Because it certainly sounds like you do.”

” It’s my smile, it’s just busting to get out. Really.”

” Don’t mock me Angelita. Just try. Just try to smile. ”

Angelita promised she would try to smile more and she did. She  even started practice and she told l her face daily because picture day was coming up at school and Angelita’s Mom was determined that she would have a school picture of her only child smiling into the camera to put on the mantelpiece above the fireplace in their living room.

Angelita took a seat in front of a pale blue screen in front of the school photographer’s camera.

Her hair was tied back  and held in place with a satin bow. Her dress was new and so were her shoes.

” Ok. ” They Photographer said, ” are we ready?”

” I am. ” Angelita said and the under her breath she said, ” are you ready too?”

” Let’s get a beautiful picture! Say cheese!”

The photographer looked up when he heard a clicking, a grinding sound coming from where Angelita was sitting.

She shrugged.

” What is that sound? ” he asked her before he clicked his camera. ” What is that.”

The grinding clicking sound stopped and the Photographer got ready to take his shot. He heard Angelita say smile- smile pretty for the camera  just this one time.”

Then through his little window the photographer saw Angelita’s smile emerge from between her lips and right in front of his eye it got wider and wider and as it did he heard words coming through the clicking and grinding sounds as Angelita’s face parted down the middle and her toothy smile emerged, snapping and grinding as it repeated over and over again

SAYCHEESESAYCHEESESAYCHEESE

For her entire 50 years of life, my friend’s sister  Elset Farwell never asked anyone for any help.

She was independent, her family said.

She is salty and a little spicy her friends said.

That was why they never asked Elset how she was doing when they spoke to her on the phone, that is the reason nobody asked how she was doing when COVID-19 shut the world down.

Good old Elset they said. She doesn’t need anybody.

Two weeks ago Elset’s brother in law saw her standing at the bus stop near her house. He waved and drove on by because Elset could manage to get to where she was going on her own. She didn’t need any help from him or anybody else.

She did not wave back.

Yesterday I saw Elset at the supermarket.

We were waiting our turn in the checkout line.

I reached out and touched her shoulder and she turned around.

” Oh. I’m sorry. I thought you my friend’s sister Elset. ”

The woman smiled at me.

” Oh. That’s okay. I just moved her a little while ago and I’ve run into a few people who thought I was someone named Elset. I guess it’s true, we all have a twin somewhere out there, don’t we?”

On my way out of the supermarket I saw my friend I stopped to say hello and as I did the woman I thought was Elset breezed by us. My friend shook her head, laughed  and said airily, ” that’s Elset for  you. ”

I didn’t know what to say, actually what I wanted to ask when was the last time you actually talked to Elset, and when you saw her did you ever really look at her?”

I didn’t ask, because I had the haunting feeling that Elset’s family really couldn’t  have cared less.