The sun hovers above me like an earthen halo as I fast approach the customer's home; realize I need to check the address. A quick glance at the instructions indicates a left at the first street past the Lion's Club sign. In the distance, tranquil Lake St. Clair fronts a quiet and peaceful street. I turn into the driveway as Fidelia comes through the front doorway.
I spot the pink shorts, long blonde hair and the white blouse, thinks she's a cutie. But my attention is drawn to her back-support cushion and a cane. Before she reaches the porch steps she drops her cell phone, then her pop can. Sensing her need I jump out of the van and rush to help. "Are you okay?" I inquire, pick up the phone and can of pop.
"It's my fibromyalgia and arthritis. I don't know which is worse," she replies; follows with a "Ha, ha..." laugh destined to unnerve me: one or two sentences spoken is followed with a high toned, loud, smoker-like laugh. "I just moved into this place... Had to find a place where my ex can't find me," she confesses. "Ha, ha..."
"Well, it's beautiful out here," I reply, politely; glance at her hands that are bonier than sea bass and probably as brittle as a ballerina.
"Sure is. Ha ha. Only costs me seven hundred a month. I used to live in downtown Windsor. Ha ha..."
"How did you get fibromyalgia?"
"Uh, I got it from many car accidents. My ex is a drunk. Likes to drink and drive. Someday he's going to kill somebody. Ha ha..."
"What's wrong with your car?"
"Oh, I'm getting a new car. I totaled my old one. Rob is taking care of me. He's a teddy bear. I'd like to just squeeze him."
I know she's talking about my friend in new car sales, Rob Marsden. "Rob's just a young guy getting started in sales," I volunteer.
"Yeah, I know. My kids are older than he is. My youngest girl is thirty-eight. Ha ha..."
This type of conversation and incessant laugh continues throughout the next thirty-minute drive back to the shop. But another venture follows, and what it is I'll tell you soon. That is if the bean bag doesn't fall down the rabbit hole and catch a mosquito.
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CONFESSIONS
Historia CortaInside the courtesy shuttle, people confessed very personal and intimate, sometimes awkward things. I didn't have my white shirt on backward or wear a cloak. But the 'parishioners' revealed things they'd never tell their friends or family. It often...
