Was It Fate or Stupidity

I had to work a double shift last night, working through the night because someone called in sick.

Our software firm deals with customers from all over the world, so we need people online twenty-four hours a day, to avoid losing business.

The boss knew I was beat when he arrived at work and saw me. "Go home, Jeff," he advised.

He had been pleasant towards me for several months now, which was unusual, and made me wonder what I had done to deserve it.

With a weary smile I answered him, "Good idea, thank you."

It was early Friday morning, so I was glad to leave and head home to begin my weekend with a much-needed sleep. It was almost sunrise and I idly thought about how I would spend the next couple days as I walked to the parking lot.

My boss had parked his overpriced Denali right next to my car and, as I drew closer to the vehicles, I noticed a figure crouching between them, but nearer to the Denali.

My eyes were telling me that the person was covered in rags, but I had been up for over twenty-four hours and my eyes were very tired. I thought that they might be playing tricks on me, so I rubbed them and tried to focus. No change. There was certainly a person dressed in rags between the cars.

"Good morning," I greeted them from a respectable distance.

A very dirty unkempt face turned towards me, and the owner jumped up in alarm.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I was just trying to get warm."

It was a female voice and I wondered why she would be out in the parking lot. I held up my hands, palms out in a friendly, non-threatening gesture, and told her, "It's ok, you're not in trouble. I didn't mean to startle you. Are you ok, is there something I can do for you?"

"No, no. I'm leaving. I won't bother you," she said and started to walk away.

"Hey," I called to her. "You wanna warm up in my car, and I could buy you a hot breakfast?"

She stopped moving away, turned, and angrily said, "Fuck you, asshole."

This took me aback. Then I thought about it for a moment and realized what she must be thinking.

"No, no. I wasn't wanting anything like that. I just got off work and I'm going to get some breakfast. Now if you are hungry, I would be willing to buy you something. No strings attached."

I was holding my hands up when I said that, trying to set her at ease.

I think the fact that it was a cold September morning and she wanted to get warm, caused her to reconsider. She seemed to decide that I wasn't an immediate threat.

"Where?"

"There is a Denny's not far up the street."

It took her a moment or two, before she accepted. "Ok."

We got into my Rogue, which was as cold inside as the early morning was outside, because it had been sitting there all night. I started the engine.

The trip was quiet, and the car only started to get warm as we pulled into the restaurant parking lot.

We got out and walked inside looking forward to some warmth and sustenance. After favoring us with a disapproving look, the hostess led us to a booth, dropping the menus on the table then walking off without a word. I became immediately offended.

The waitress came over, and she also gave us a disapproving look, before taking our orders.

There was a long permeating silence as we studied each other.

She looked old, but I knew that her dirty face and ragged hair would make her look older than she was.

Her hair, though unkept didn't seem brittle, unlike some of the drug addicts I'd had the misfortune to meet.

Though she seemed shy and pensive, she wasn't jumpy or jittery at all. She didn't appear to have been drinking, and I had a very good nose and didn't smell any alcohol on her. The only disturbing thing about her was that she couldn't seem to look me in the eyes.

After the waitress brought us our drinks, still with a condescending attitude, I broke the silence with the raggedy woman.

"What's your name?"

"You can call me Connie," she said in an offhand way that suggested it wasn't her name at all.

So, then I asked, "Ok, Connie, where are you staying?"

"Here and there."

"Anywhere special?"

"No," she answered.

I was getting the impression that she really didn't want to answer any more questions, so I backed off and waited in silence for our order.

We ate a nice breakfast which, thankfully, was a vast improvement on the customer service.

After paying, making it a point to DEFINITELY short the waitress on her tip, we walked out to the car.

"Thanks for breakfast," Connie said as she started walking off.

"Connie!" I called to her.

She stopped and turned around.

"I can put you up for a time, No strings. Just a place to hang and sleep. It is warm and there is food."

I watched her as she looked at me, trying to figure my motivation.

"Really, no strings, and you'll have your own room."

"What would your wife say?"

I dropped my gaze and had to take a deep breath as my chest tightened and my throat started to close. "I no longer have one of those."

She stood staring for a while, and I was about to withdraw my invitation, when she simply said, "Ok."

I nodded, then we climbed, into the now warm car, and headed to my lonely home.

~~~

We arrived, and I pulled up to my garage door as it began to open.

"Nice place," she complimented as I stopped the car.

We got out and walked through the garage then through the connecting door into the house.

I took Connie on a quick tour, pointing out the spare room, the kitchen, the bathroom, the location of the towels, soap, washcloths and so on.

I asked if she wanted a change of clothes, as hers were rags.

"You have women's clothing laying around?" she asked incredulously.

I nodded without saying anything and walked to the master bedroom.

She started to follow me, but I stopped her from entering.

I pulled some of my wife's clothing off the hangers, selecting a combination of dresses, skirts, blouses, and even some of her jeans. Then I went to her dresser drawers and pulled out some underwear. I carried the armload of garments out of the room as Connie watched from the doorway.

Her eyes were questioning as she accepted some of the clothing but like her, I wasn't ready to talk about my life to a stranger right then, and maybe never would be.

I sat the rest of the items on the end of the guest bed and told her I was exhausted and needed some sleep. Then I told her I would get up around two in the afternoon.

From there I went to my bed. I got in and, immediately, thoughts of Connie were replaced with memories of my beautiful wife and happy life that I had lost. I wept, as I did most days before falling asleep.

~~~

I don't know what I expected to find when I awoke. I'd been sleeping soundly and almost anything could have happened. I could have woken to a house that had been ransacked, with furniture stolen or damaged, pots and pans strewn about, and everything of value gone. It didn't really matter to me, because the most valuable part of my life was already gone, and she wasn't coming back.

Instead, as I woke and as I was becoming aware of my surroundings, I heard the soft sounds of music from somewhere nearby.

After getting dressed, I made my way to the front room. Connie was sitting on the sofa smiling to herself while listening to my stereo. That astounded me because I had bought it from Best Buy and hooked it up, but I was never able to get it to work. I was at my wits end and had even thought about throwing it away, although it cost me a small fortune.

Now Connie had it working and was happily listening to it, like it was no trouble at all.

When she noticed me come into the room, her smile faded, and she seemed to shrink back into the sofa.

"Good ... well, I guess ... afternoon?" I greeted her.

She didn't reply, just nodded.

Connie looked as if she had showered and was now wearing one of my wife's shirts, and a pair of shorts, in place of her raggedy clothing. She looked much fresher, and younger too. The expression on her face suggested that she was thinking about running.

As I took in her appearance, I could tell that she didn't belong on the streets and, dressed as she was in my wife's clothes, my mind saw my wife Breana smiling back at me.

The vision disturbed me, and I shook my head a little then closed my eyes and reopened them. Breana's image had faded, and Connie sat there, unaware. Relieved that what I thought was a hallucination had gone, I smiled and asked, "How was your day?"

"Uh, well. It was ok. I cleaned your kitchen for you," she replied.

I smiled appreciatively. "You did much more than that. I have never been able to get that stereo to work. What did you do?"

"Nothing, just set it to play," she answered.

I looked down and chuckled, shaking my head at the same time. I had never really had the energy to learn the system enough to get it to work.

"Thank you, Connie. Well, it's Friday and I need to work on the yard."

"I could fix you something to eat?" she said, more a question than a statement.

"Sure," I said, not really understanding why I was placing my trust in this homeless woman.

Connie jumped up and went to the kitchen. My gaze followed her, and I saw the kitchen for the first time that morning. I simply stared in amazement. My kitchen was clean. It had never been cleaner.

"Do you want breakfast, or would you rather have lunch?" she asked.

"Lunch please - just a sandwich would be fine."

"No problem," she said and turned around to fix my meal.

As I wandered off to my home office, I heard pots and pans clanging around and wondered what sort of sandwich she was making me!

I picked up my notebook computer and checked my email account. Spam, a lot of spam, as usual. Thank goodness my account had a spam button, although it couldn't stop everything. There were a few legitimate emails which I would answer that afternoon after completing the weekend chores. Then it occurred to me that if I got them done today, I could have all of Saturday off. What a treat!

As I reveled in my joy of having a whole day off, with NO expectations, I continued to hear noises from the kitchen. There was the sound of food frying and more clanging and banging. It reminded me of happier times when Breana would be busy in the kitchen.

My chest began to feel tight, my throat felt constricted, and my tears started again. I cussed myself for being so damned emotional. I reached for a paper towel, blew my nose, dried my eyes and tried not to scream out the anguish I felt at losing my mate.

I knew my neighbors would have heard my howls of sorrow over the past months. Some would be wondering what my problem was, but those who knew me best would understand.

Connie brought me a cup of coffee and a plate with a grilled ham and cheese sandwich on it. I stared at the plate, trying to control my emotions, and tried to smile.

I really appreciated the meal as it would provide some warmth, and fuel to burn, while I cleaned up the yard in the cold conditions. I kept smiling as I raised my head, noticing that she was looking at me apprehensively, wondering if I approved.

"This is really nice, thank you," I said, trying to convey my appreciation.

She smiled a little then and left to clean up the kitchen.

The sandwich was great although, as I ate, I kept thinking about my wife. I willed myself to push aside the painful memories that kept trying to surface. I wasn't successful.

I kept my head lowered so Connie wouldn't notice my pain if she looked in from the kitchen. It also worked in reverse because I couldn't see her.

After finishing my meal, I composed myself.

"Connie?" I called out.

She entered my office carrying a cup of coffee for herself. I pointed to a chair, and she sat.

"Is there somewhere you need to be? Or something you need to do?" I asked.

She shook her head.

I nodded. "Do you work? Do you have a job?"

"What are you getting at?" she wanted to know.

I was surprised. "Well ... what was your last job?"

"You know the man who owns the Denali you found me by? He paid me to fuck him. That was my last job!"

That was much more information than I wanted, but I wasn't surprised that my boss was fucking around on his wife.

"I didn't mean that type of work."

"That's all I'm good for now," she replied angrily.

"I know better than that," I insisted.

"You've already demonstrated that you are hard-working and capable. You won't have to do that anymore - unless you really want to," I finished firmly.

It was then I realized that I had just implicitly offered room and board to a homeless woman in exchange for her housekeeping services. I noticed that Connie was still dressed in my wife's very pretty top and shorts. Breana always looked beautiful in that top and, as I stared at the woman sitting across from me, I could see my wife looking back at me with pride in her eyes.

Breana had always been proud of me for some reason that I didn't understand. She loved to tell me how lucky she was to have found me, but I knew that I was the lucky one.

With my reminiscing, I realized too late that my tears had come again. I looked away and reached for another paper towel. I dried my tears and blew my nose again. After I composed myself, I realized that the Breana's image was now smiling at me. Smiling with pride. Previously I had envisioned her looking worried, almost paralyzed with fear, but this time was different. I wondered what had happened.

CHAPTER TWO:

My chores in the yard involved clearing broken tree limbs and re-cultivating dried out flower beds. It was much harder to deal with the flower beds than I thought, as I had planted them for Breana the first of spring. Of course, that was before the disaster that turned my dream life into a nightmare.

I had to concede that the yard looked a lot better, but it was sad without the flowers. The housing authority that had snuck into my neighborhood, behind my back, better not say a fucking word now.

After the gardening, I went into the garage and pulled out a ladder and my caulk gun. Then I caulked around each of the house windows, using latex caulk as advised by the home store salesman.

After that task, I fetched my long ladder and started cleaning the gutters. A while later I regretted starting the chore because it was slow methodical work. However, keeping busy also kept me from thinking about losing my lovely wife Breana. But not for long.

It seemed that I just couldn't stop the pain from tormenting my soul.

I was very tired when I finally finished for the day, but I realized that it wasn't a physical tiredness. After all, I had slept until after noon, so I didn't feel physically drained and exhausted. Most of my fatigue was due to battling the demons of my painful memories.

I wasn't thinking about Connie when I went back inside the house and walked into the kitchen looking for something to drink. Connie startled me by leaping up from the sofa.

In my mind, I could plainly see Breana jumping up off the sofa, not Connie.

I began to regret bringing Connie home but what stopped me from asking her to leave was the look I saw on Breana's face. Yes, I saw Breana not Connie. And her expression was stern. After ten years I could read her like a book and knew what she was thinking with just a glance. I knew that Breana didn't want me to throw Connie out.

I caught my breath and tried to smile at Connie. Not very convincingly.

"I think I need to take a shower. While I'm doing that, why don't you put on something nice, and I will take you to supper."

I could see Connie thinking, but then she just nodded and went to her room to change. The top and shorts Connie was wearing was nice, but Breana had far better clothes to wear outside the home.

~~~

I took her to Frenier's Landing because I felt like oysters and they had just come into season, even though the water temperature was still a little high. It had been a long four months without oysters and I wasn't going to wait any longer.

Connie dressed in a stylish, yet conservative, evening dress. It looked good on her, and for some reason, I didn't get a mental image of Breana when Connie modeled the choice of clothing.

I hurried to the master bedroom closet, retrieved the handbag, shoes and jewelry that I'd purchased to accent that specific dress, then took them to Connie.

"You want me to get all made up like your wife or something?!" she accused.

That verbal slap in the face made me realize what my actions must look like to Connie.

"Oh god no. I am so sorry," I said and hurriedly took the things back to my room. I made a mental note to throw them in the garbage later, as I came back out.

"I am sorry for insinuating such a thing, really I am," I said, pleading forgiveness.

After my faux pas I didn't quite know what to say, so I simply walked out through the garage to the car and, thankfully, Connie followed and climbed into the passenger seat. Somewhat relieved, I used the remote to close the garage door while reversing down the driveway, then headed for the restaurant.

Once there, we were shown to a well-situated table by a very friendly hostess. Then a personable waitress appeared to take our orders. I couldn't help mentally comparing this experience with the Friday morning breakfast debacle.

Connie ordered a stuffed flounder, while I ordered three dozen oysters; two dozen on the half shell and a dozen charbroiled.

When the waitress brought the half shell oysters, she put a dozen in front of me and the remainder in front of Connie.

I chortled and smiled; Connie looked flustered and apparently didn't know what to do with them.

"If you want to try some, go ahead," I offered.

"Ah ... ok," she replied hesitantly.

Noting her embarrassment, I quickly grabbed my oyster fork, speared an oyster, dipped it in cocktail sauce, then put it in my mouth.

Connie watched me eat that oyster, quickly followed by two more, before she took her fork and tried for herself. She imitated my actions, popped the oyster in her mouth and chewed.

Green would be a fair description of her ensuing complexion, as she chewed and tried to swallow her oyster. Then she put a napkin to her mouth and surreptitiously removed the offending mollusk.

I couldn't help chuckling a little, while trying not to be rude.

"It's ok. It took a while for me to get used to them. Now I can't get enough," I reassured her.

"You mentioned that you've been waiting for four months to eat them?"

"Yea ... a very long four months."

"If you ask me, I could wait another fourteen years."

This time we both laughed. Then guilt overwhelmed me as I recalled that the last occasion, I had laughed that way was with Breana, but that was before ....

I didn't want to think about it, so I sucked down the pain followed by the rest of my oysters.

When Connie's meal arrived, she nearly had a stroke when she saw the size of the flounder.

"Yea, they really do it right here," I explained.

After our meal, I drove back to the house, walked in and grabbed a beer. I was still feeling guilty and hoped that an alcohol hit would dull the pain.

We went into the living quarters, and I asked Connie how to turn on the stereo. She pressed a button and turned a knob and ... voila! ... like magic, the stereo started pumping out music. We started by listening to some soft country-and-western music. I was safe from memories of the past since Breana and I would always dance to older classic rock.

We had the volume low with the intention of talking to each other, but neither of us knew what to say.

As I watched, Connie started to flag, I suggested she should turn in, and escorted her to the guestroom. Then I went to my room and hit the hay myself.

For the second day in a row, I had a homeless woman, someone I barely knew, sleeping under my roof. Looking back, perhaps I was hoping she would steal everything and, in doing so, remove all physical reminders of Breana -- something that I had been unable to do myself.