Western Spark

Peony

The "Help Wanted" sign pinned to the cork board at the supermarket caught Peony's eye as she shouldered two bags of groceries and her purse towards the exit. It was the only one jumbled amongst the slew of daycare and lawn-cutting business adverts, the notice for the annual strawberry social and the rodeo committee general meeting.

She scanned it quickly. It was written in slowly fading red ink, spiky and barely legible. Looking around, she yanked it off it's shiny brass tack and tucked it away. She'd read the details later. No matter what the job was, she'd do her best to land it because the last of her money jingled in her pocket as she did.

"Mom, are we going to go get ice cream?" her daughter Liz asked, following along behind her with the third bag of food, her slim arms barely circling the paper bag.

"Not today," Peony said quietly. "We need to find a place to sleep tonight yet."

The shame in that statement heated her face as they made their way across the parking lot. Not only was this the last of their money, but it would have to do until her next welfare cheque came in at the post office next week. Wherever they went tonight, they'd be marooned with no gas in the tank of the car.

It was a far cry from what she imagined when she'd snuck out in the middle of the night from her home south of Lethbridge two years ago, everything she and her daughter might need packed into her old station wagon. She held back tears as they stuffed the groceries in, and Liz hopped into her seat in the back, smiling at her.

"Mom, are we going to camp again tonight?"

"Yes, dear. We'll camp tonight. I thought we could have hot dogs."

Liz wiggled happily into her seat and clutched her stuffed horse Charlie. It was still an adventure for her, their situation, even though sometimes she could see the stress of the unknown in her chewed fingernails and restless sleep. Peony took a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose and get her emotions under control before she got behind the wheel.

She'd utterly, utterly failed.

Up until a month ago, they'd been renting a small camper near Kananaskis in a small retiree-populated trailer park. It had been almost a year of safety, Liz had been doing well at her school, and money wasn't as tight. But then, Peony lost her job at the plastic factory, and nothing had come up. Rent was suddenly too expensive, and since the place was a month-to-month sublease, she knew she wasn't able to keep it.

So now, they were homeless and living out of her car. Peony did rationalize that it was better than where they'd been before, living with her ex-husband Ian. She'd come home to Brightside with her tail between her legs, thinking she might find a sympathetic friend or two, not realizing there weren't many people left that she actually knew. A few had helped out with a driveway and a meal, but she didn't want to overstay her welcome with anyone, or invite trouble to their door if Ian found out where they were.

Ian had stalked her from place to place until they'd landed at the trailer park. He'd find the motel they were in, screaming at the door, scaring Liz as Peony held her spare tire iron in one hand, the other shielding her daughter. He'd get close enough to smell the stench of booze, see the stains on his clothes, watch the tremble from years and years of drowning himself in alcohol. Liz didn't have many good memories of her father, and she never asked about him or talked about him.

"Mom, are you sad?" Liz asked from the back as Peony slid into her seat.

"No honey, just tired," Peony replied and turned to smile at her daughter. Liz studied her with a serious look on her face.

"Was the ad for a place to stay?" she asked then, changing the subject.

Peony dug out the cue card she'd quickly grabbed.