Memoir of a Trapped Housewife

Chapter Two {Arrival}

Chapter Two

Arrival

The bus trip paused in the morning around nine am. I roused from agitated slumber as the driver braked abruptly and curiously peeked out my dingy window. It provided a view of a diminutive town encased in dust and surrounded by the emptiness of dry wilderness. I blinked, turning my attention to a sign that read "Fort Benton, Montana".

The passengers were freed from the bus for the treat of stretching our cramped legs while the bus docked at a nearby gas station. I stood alone, kicking my feet in the dusty ground until the urge to find a place to relieve myself took me.

Hastily, I slipped into the gas station outhouse before the owner could protest against having a black woman use his facilities. When I was done I snuck outside, and thankfully the stout, corpulent owner never caught sight of me. However, standing a few meters from the building, a woman- Mrs. Jackson, possessor of the farm ten miles away from my home- scowled. I presumed she saw me go into the toilet.

"Hello ma'am," I said sheepishly. She watched as I sprinted back to the bus, discomforting me immensely.

On the bus I snuggled into my former seat and stared out the window once more, trying to erase the idea that Matthew was somewhere hidden in the background waiting to take the final shot. I shivered. Hesitantly, I let my eyes close and thought of the home waiting for me with Sable.

Thinking of it brought me peace. I imagined the apartment she told me we would have and the refrigerator she swore to get, a luxury I was never able to experience previously. There was no Matthew McMillan, no earsplitting shouting, and no weeping, only serene stillness.

I was snatched from dreaming of this utopia when the seat next to me dipped. Cracking open my eyelids, I peered to my left and stared at an elderly woman. She smiled and daringly patted my hand. Her skin was as pale as my mother's, but her smile held significantly more joy.

"Hello sweetheart," she moved her pink lips to say. "Where are you headed?"

Cautious, I mumbled something about going to visit a family member in Ontario.

"Oh you'll be on this bus for a while," she clucked. "I'm getting off in Chatawok, Canada."

My eyebrows lifted with intrigue. "How nice," I replied. "I heard it's a...quiet place."

The woman laughed. "I'm surprised you heard of it at all. No one else knows or cares, unless you're one of those rich gentlemen and ladies visiting the Blackstone mansion, or, looking for employment in the Blackstone Transportation Company. That's the only two reasons anyone comes to our hovel, really."

The Blackstones? I'd heard that name before. Oh yes, in Sable's letters- they were her employer.

"Why would the wealthy be interested in such a small town?" I ventured, barely able to conceal my curiosity.

"To go to an infamous Blackstone party, ball, gathering...anything actually. They're all curious to view the wealth of this family, who reportedly arose from mediocrity into extreme wealth due to the genius business mind of the family breadwinner- the Mr. Blackstone. Because of him they have a company that has arms in shipping, trains, and the emerging plane and automobile manufacturing."

"How long did it take him to accomplish this feat?" I asked, surprised.

"Eight years," she huffed, scowling at my expression of disbelief. "Oh don't praise him or the family, sweetie. Honestly, they are the worst thing that could have ever happened to the town. They ruined it...I'd rather not discuss this anymore."