Between Octobers

October 8th (Continued)

After dropping the kids at school and sending word to their teachers that they’d be absent on Wednesday to observe their father’s passing, I got home just in time to stop Arnold, Sol’s big dumb dog, from chewing through a fence board. Once he was settled in his kennel, I fixed the board and made his breakfast. Some leftover brown rice and chicken broth mixed with his regular food. I set the bowl in front of him, told him what a good boy he was, and got started on the housework. 

An hour later, I was done. I turned on some music and watched through the glass door as Arnold ignored the food in his bowl. Maybe he needed to work up an appetite.  

The weather was cool and sunny. A light breeze drifted in from the coast giving the air a briny smell that melded with the scent of the surrounding trees. We headed down the road and jogged around the park, twice. Both of us were panting when we got back to the top of my hill.  

After a shower, while raking the brush through my hair, I remembered my phone. The battery was probably completely dead. I reached for my sweatshirt and checked the pockets. Then, searched the jeans crumpled in the pile of laundry. I wanted to panic after the first sweep of my purse turned up nothing, and started emptying each compartment onto the kitchen counter. Out poured everything I anticipated, except my cell phone. 

I perched on the arm of the sofa, trying to think. I asked Noah to get it for me, put it in my sweater pocket. I used it to check the time in the hall while I waited. The elevator!

I grabbed the house phone and called Lily. After explaining what I suspect had happened, she connected me to the maintenance office.

How could I have been so careless? The pictures! I’d never put them into the computer. Noah offered to do it a hundred times, but I refused, saying I would do it myself. Truthfully, I didn’t like the idea of changing anything. I wanted the phone to stay the way it was when it belonged to Sol. It was the only thing that survived the accident. I had to get it back.

Nauseated and impatient, I waited as the phone rang over and over. On the fifth ring that felt like the fiftieth, a machine picked up. I left a message, automatically looking at the time. They had to be out for lunch.

On the way back to the parking garage, I couldn’t let myself think about what it would mean, how much it would hurt to lose his cell phone. Instead, I concentrated on getting back to check that elevator as soon as possible. On the way, I was forced to stop at every single light in the city between my house and Lily’s office. I got stuck behind the slowest drivers in the history of motorized transportation. When I changed lanes, a diesel truck ended up in front of me. When I tried to move around, a taxi cut me off. After that, it was a garbage truck. It seemed everyone was intent on making sure I had no access to lanes of moving traffic. I wanted to scream.

Finally, I saw the entrance of the parking garage. The sign out front read, “Lot Full.” I fought back the tears and parked in the first opening I found out on the street, nearly two blocks away.

According to Juan in maintenance, the elevator had been running smoothly for over an hour and no one had returned or reported finding a cell phone. When he saw me fighting back the tears, he let me look through the space myself—the lost and found, too. But all I found were umbrellas, single gloves, and reading glasses.

Returning to my car heart-broken and empty handed, I was forced to learn another hard lesson. Parking by a hydrant was never as convenient as it seemed. I realized this as I watched my Jeep being hauled down the street by a tow truck. I prayed for strength and forgiveness, fighting the desire to curse the driver for refusing to let me drive away because my car was already chained.

“What does that mean?” I asked incredulously.

“It means too damn bad. You’re blocking a hydrant and you’re gettin’ towed.” He rubbed his greasy hand across his imposing waistline.

At least I had the presence of mind to take my purse. I tried to be thankful for that as I walked to the lone payphone that I knew to be operational a few blocks away. It was on the corner in front of a small French restaurant. I’d never eaten there, but the bright blue neon sign mounted over the phone booth stuck out in my mind. It was a marker to Caleb. Each time we passed it, he knew we were almost to Auntie’s job. 

I kept my eyes on a miserable pebble, kicking it down the sidewalk along the way. I could’ve used the phone in Lily’s office, but the waiting area would be full of patients. No one ever went to the oncologist for something minor. Everyone within hearing distance would have either been seeking, in the midst of receiving, or just finishing cancer treatment. They didn’t need to hear about my problems, so insignificant compared to theirs. I would have felt guilty for complaining and I really wanted to mope.

The afternoon didn’t get any better. I never kept cash on me, so I had to take a taxi to the bank on the way home. The driver complained because of the slow-moving line at the ATM.

As the cab pulled away from my curb, Caleb’s bus pulled up. Maria’s grating voice was drumming from the answering machine as we made our way inside. I shuddered—mother-in-law problems—listening to her tell me she was coming over Wednesday to visit the kids. I ran to the phone to let her know I’d make myself scarce so she could visit. Of course, my voice was trembling, so she asked what was wrong. I knew it was only a formality, but told her anyway. She huffed when I mentioned the pictures. I really didn’t feel like being insulted, so I made up an excuse and hung up. 

When Noah came home, he immediately asked what was wrong. I assured him everything would be fine and went to bed early.