Read Online A Not-So-Simple Life by Melody Carlson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Melody Carlson
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harvested numerous things, including cucumbers, tomatoes, lettuce, basil, and some baby carrots. I spent a couple of pleasant hours just weeding and watering and working on my compost this morning before it got too hot. It’s also wise to water in the morning, because that’s the best way to conserve water (it doesn’t evaporate so quickly), and the plants seem to like it better too. I guess I should make a green tip about that someday.
Anyway, to my complete surprise, Shannon actually made it home last night. Although I’m certain she was totally wasted because I heard her stumbling up the stairs on her way to her room. I considered offering some help but figured it served her right if she fell and broke her leg. Plus that might keep her at home. She eventually made it up, and when her bedroom door slammed, 1 went back to sleep. As usual, she’s sleeping in. And I sort of enjoy having the house to myself in the mornings.
I felt at loose ends. I straightened up the kitchen some and even sat and watched some public television, about the only worthwhile thing we get these days since Shannon hasn’t paid the cable bill in months. Not that I care. But the constant phone calls do bug me. I’m actually surprised that our land-line is still working. I don’t think Shannon has paid that lately either. But most of our calls are from grumpy collections people, and we just let them go straight to the machine. Occasionally someone will come to the door, but Shannon has made it clear that I’m not to answer the door unless we know the person. So mostly I ignore that too.
But this morning when someone knocked, I took a peek at the security monitor—a system my dad had set up for us back when he was worried about stalkers. Anyway, I was only looking out of curiosity…and boredom, I suppose. But the guy standing there was probably from a collection agency, so no way was I opening the door. Yet, as I stood there looking at the camera, I found myself wishing it were one of my old friends just stopping by to say hey. That used to happen. But not anymore. And then I actually considered calling up my old best friend, Ashlee. But I know she’s so moved on by now. She probably wouldn’t even remember who I am. Sometimes I have difficulty remembering myself.
Finally, around noon, Shannon crawled out. I could tell by her puffy face and bloodshot eyes that she’d beendrinking. But she seemed slightly proud of herself for finding her way home. And she was grouchy.
“Where’s the coffee?” she demanded.
“I didn’t make any.” I filled a water bottle, getting ready to make a quick exit.
“Why not?”
“I wanted tea.” I made my way to the door.
“Are you going to work now?” She obviously hadn’t really looked at me since my overalls, T-shirt, and flip-flops should’ve given the answer.
“No.”
“Hey, baby,” she said in her I-need-something voice, “do you have any money?”
“Not really,” I lied.
She scowled. “Nothing?”
“A few bucks.”
“Don’t they pay you at that chichi shop?”
I just shrugged. “I can loan you a few bucks until Dad’s check gets here, Shannon.” Loan, yeah right. Like she’ll ever pay me back.
“Yeah, that’d be good.”
So I went and got into my secret cash stash and pulled out a twenty. A twenty I will never see again. Okay, maybe Shannon is my way of giving to charity. Whatever.
Then I hopped on my bike and rode over to Beverly Gardens Park. It’s not a big park, but I remember Dad bringingme here as a little girl…and for that reason I still like to come here sometimes. Today I’m sitting by the lily pond, doodling and writing in my journal. I know I must look lonely. I stopped by the Hunter and Hounds statue. It’s kind of a memorial to a soldier in World War I. But as I look at the dogs, I think maybe that’s what I need. A dog to keep me company. Oh sure, Shannon would have a fit. Other times when I’ve raised the dog subject, she’s always said that
Anyway, to my complete surprise, Shannon actually made it home last night. Although I’m certain she was totally wasted because I heard her stumbling up the stairs on her way to her room. I considered offering some help but figured it served her right if she fell and broke her leg. Plus that might keep her at home. She eventually made it up, and when her bedroom door slammed, 1 went back to sleep. As usual, she’s sleeping in. And I sort of enjoy having the house to myself in the mornings.
I felt at loose ends. I straightened up the kitchen some and even sat and watched some public television, about the only worthwhile thing we get these days since Shannon hasn’t paid the cable bill in months. Not that I care. But the constant phone calls do bug me. I’m actually surprised that our land-line is still working. I don’t think Shannon has paid that lately either. But most of our calls are from grumpy collections people, and we just let them go straight to the machine. Occasionally someone will come to the door, but Shannon has made it clear that I’m not to answer the door unless we know the person. So mostly I ignore that too.
But this morning when someone knocked, I took a peek at the security monitor—a system my dad had set up for us back when he was worried about stalkers. Anyway, I was only looking out of curiosity…and boredom, I suppose. But the guy standing there was probably from a collection agency, so no way was I opening the door. Yet, as I stood there looking at the camera, I found myself wishing it were one of my old friends just stopping by to say hey. That used to happen. But not anymore. And then I actually considered calling up my old best friend, Ashlee. But I know she’s so moved on by now. She probably wouldn’t even remember who I am. Sometimes I have difficulty remembering myself.
Finally, around noon, Shannon crawled out. I could tell by her puffy face and bloodshot eyes that she’d beendrinking. But she seemed slightly proud of herself for finding her way home. And she was grouchy.
“Where’s the coffee?” she demanded.
“I didn’t make any.” I filled a water bottle, getting ready to make a quick exit.
“Why not?”
“I wanted tea.” I made my way to the door.
“Are you going to work now?” She obviously hadn’t really looked at me since my overalls, T-shirt, and flip-flops should’ve given the answer.
“No.”
“Hey, baby,” she said in her I-need-something voice, “do you have any money?”
“Not really,” I lied.
She scowled. “Nothing?”
“A few bucks.”
“Don’t they pay you at that chichi shop?”
I just shrugged. “I can loan you a few bucks until Dad’s check gets here, Shannon.” Loan, yeah right. Like she’ll ever pay me back.
“Yeah, that’d be good.”
So I went and got into my secret cash stash and pulled out a twenty. A twenty I will never see again. Okay, maybe Shannon is my way of giving to charity. Whatever.
Then I hopped on my bike and rode over to Beverly Gardens Park. It’s not a big park, but I remember Dad bringingme here as a little girl…and for that reason I still like to come here sometimes. Today I’m sitting by the lily pond, doodling and writing in my journal. I know I must look lonely. I stopped by the Hunter and Hounds statue. It’s kind of a memorial to a soldier in World War I. But as I look at the dogs, I think maybe that’s what I need. A dog to keep me company. Oh sure, Shannon would have a fit. Other times when I’ve raised the dog subject, she’s always said that
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