Thank God I've never made Heather's mistake. However, somehow I identify more strongly with Heather than any other character I've ever written.
*****
INDISCRETION
Heather flipped the switch again. The garbage disposal made a whining grinding noise.
"Shit," she spat, flipping the switch off. The drain made a burbling burping noise, rather similar to the sound her son Kyle had made every time he'd thrown-up over this past weekend. Her daughter had been ill all the week before that.
It was too much. First the sick children, then the broken dishwasher, the fender bender in the school parking lot this morning, Jerry's constant business trips, and now this.
God how she missed Jerry. She needed him. She needed his help. She needed his ear. She needed his arms. The drain made a loud retching noise. The sink filled with disgusting dirty dishwater and half-digested leavings from the disposal. A foul odor wrinkled Heather's nose, making her want to barf.
Her eyes burnt. A tear trickled down her cheek. Her knees began to quake. She caught the edge of the counter to keep her balance and she began to cry.
Long minutes later the tears stopped. She found herself staring at the still burbling pool of filth within her sink. She felt weak. The awful smell still churned her stomach.
Heather tore her eyes away from the awful mess and scrubbed her them with the back of her hand. She briefly thought about retrieving the bathroom plunger but then wondered why bother. She grabbed the phone and fished out the phonebook from the junk drawer.
"Plunger Plumber's, we clean your pipes. My name's Nancy Donaldson, how may I help you?" droned the bored receptionist on the other end of the line.
"Hi, I'm Heather. Heather Belle. I, uhm, my sink is clogged, my dishwasher is broken and my garbage disposal is stuck. Can I get a plumber?"
"You may Ms. Belle. Let's see, we have an opening at 2:30. Will that work?"
"It's Mrs. Belle," Heather said, automatically. "Is there anything sooner? My kitchen is a real mess and I've got to pick up my son and daughter from school around three."
"Hmmm, maybe, where is your place Mrs. Belle?"
Heather supplied her address and phone number
"Well, I'll see what I can do. One of our plumbers has a job in you neighborhood right now. I'll call him and if he finishes early I'll have him come right over. You're gonna be home between now and 2:30, right?"
"Yes"
"Good, the technician will call when he is on his way. He'll be able to take care of the disposal and sink. The dishwasher will likely require a second trip."
"Okay, thank you," Heather said. She let out a pent up breath and breathed a little easier.
"Well, if that is all, I'd better call our technician. Have a good day."
"You too. No wait, how much is it going to cost?
"Fifty dollars an hour plus parts. There is also a fifty dollar service fee per call."
"Okay, thanks"
"Good day."
Heather hung up the phone and threw the phone book on the counter. She slouched down at Jerry's desk and rummaged through the junk for their checkbook. She turned on the computer to check their bank balance.
"Ninety two dollars," Heather cried, staring at the computer screen.
A heavy sinking feeling weighed down her gut. Payday was still three days away and there was only ninety two dollars in their account. She'd sworn they'd had a few thousand in the account last week.
She scanned back through the register. Mixed amongst all then normal charges for groceries, mortgage and bills was a nineteen hundred and something dollar check to Commuter's Computers.
Heather slammed the keyboard against the desk. She leaned back in her chair trying to deny what was happening but was helpless to tear her eyes away from the incriminating data. She ran shaking fingers through her hair.
"Damn it Jerry!" she cussed, tears leaking from her wide eyes. "You said you'd wait. You had a laptop! You didn't need another. Not now!" Heather began to cry in earnest. It wasn't until the phone went to voice mail that Heather remembered she was waiting for the plumber to call. She dove for the phone, knocking it from its receiver. She scrambled after it as it clattered across the floor.
"Hello," she said, in a small, breathless voice. There was no answer.
"Hello?" she said, louder, a kind of panicked note creeping into her voice. Only silence answered her.
She ran back around the desk to play the voice mail. It was still recording. She looked at the phone in disbelief.
"Oh crap," she said, and jammed her thumb into the talk button.
"Hello! Hello, hello?" she cried into the phone.
"Hello," a masculine voice half laughed on the other end of the line. "This is Devin with Plunger Plumbing. May I please speak with Mrs. Belle?"
"This is Heather Belle."
"Mrs. Belle, I've just finished with my last job. I understand you've got an urgent problem. I am just up the street. Might I verify your address please?"
Heather gave Devin her address and he said he was less than ten minutes away. He would be over soon.
Heather hung up the phone and then rummaged through the desk for the emergency credit card. She and Jerry seldom used it as they had gotten in trouble with in the past. Still, Jerry kept it in case of an emergency.
"Well, this time, he'd created his own emergency," she thought.
She found it and stuffed it into her jeans. She looked up and caught her reflection in the window. Self consciously, she took stock of her appearance.
The plain white tee-shirt she'd thrown on that morning looked as tired and worn as she felt. Much of her hair had pulled free of its ponytail and it looked to be a mousey brown mess. Her face was red and puffy.
Heather headed to her bedroom closet for a simple blouse. She was nearly there when the doorbell rang.
For a moment her mind locked in indecision. Half of her reached for the closet. The other half of her tried to race down the hall for the front door. She almost fell.
