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Authors: Sheri S. Tepper
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garage doors around to the alley side. It’s a three-car garage, so there’s lots of storage room.”
“Where did all this vacant ground come from?” Dora asked, staring out the west window.
“It’s part of the old air base. They closed it back in ninety-five, and it’s been zoned as greenbelt. You could have a dog and take him for walks over there.”
Charlene had three poodles that, according to Phil, ran Charlene’s life for her, but Dora wasn’t thinking about dogs. She moved slowly back to the kitchen. New built-in oven and stove top, compartment sink and dishwasher, decent-sized refrigerator-freezer, pine cabinets under a wide counter where she could put two or three stools. More than adequate. Not huge, but then, she’d only be cooking for one. The bathroom was nice, all newly tiled in white with bright Caribbean stripes of blue and pink and apricot. The place could have been designed with her furniture in mind. Everything she had would fit!
“How much?” she asked.
Charlene mentioned a price and Dora said a silent prayer of thanks. She could handle it. She would even have enough left over to do something with that messy bit of yard down below. When Charlene left to go type up a contract, Dora stayed there, hugging the place to herself, as though it were a child. She could have a little garden, and the garage beneath the living space was perfect for her car, and for storage. And a place to paint! Before she married Jared, she used to get a kick out ofpainting, but he’d said it was too messy to do anywhere at his place. All her painting stuff was…Damn! It was still at Jared’s place. In the garage! She hadn’t remembered to clean out the garage!
Never mind. She’d do it right away. And she’d plant a tree and some evergreen shrubs in the little yard. And the lavender she’d wanted. And the pansies. And this fall she’d put in some bulbs. She was amazed to find herself a little weepy at the idea. A place of her own. It would be the first time she’d had a real, honest-to-God place of her own.
Closing was set for ten days away, but the people told her she could move in before closing if she wanted to. On Tuesday she moved. Her furniture came out of storage: her own bright rugs and comfortable rocker, Grandma’s pine bedstead and dresser. A new sleeper sofa for when one of the younger kids came visiting, Grandma’s honey pine table and chairs, the coffee table she’d had made from a fancy old door she’d found at a flea market, the two leather chairs she’d bought on time payments while she was still at the farm.
She found some ready-made curtains at Sears, ones that would blow in the wind, and at the nursery a big terra cotta pot for planting lavender in. She found pansies at the Wal-Mart to put by the stoop downstairs. The final step was to drive to the post office nearest Jared’s place and turn in a change of address form. Then, on her way home, she went down the alley at Jared’s place and used her spare key to get into the garage. Jared had been out of the hospital for a week now, but Jared’s mother had called Dora at work to say he was staying at the boardinghouse, with her.
“Jared doesn’t want you to leave,” she had said in her firm, unemotional voice, as though her saying so might change Dora’s mind.
“Jared doesn’t need a wife,” Dora had told her. “He needs a cook-housekeeper. And he’s making enough to hire one.” Still, she hadn’t filed for divorce. Not yet. She had a feeling it would be like poking a snake thatwas coiled to strike. She could let the legal part wait while Jared got used to the idea.
All her painting things were in the garage, dusty but undisturbed, not even dried out. She stumbled on her way in, for the floor was as badly cracked as Jared had said, and she stumbled again coming out, but she didn’t forget to relock the door. She drove down the alley and came back to park at the curb. She used the key in the front door so she could
“Where did all this vacant ground come from?” Dora asked, staring out the west window.
“It’s part of the old air base. They closed it back in ninety-five, and it’s been zoned as greenbelt. You could have a dog and take him for walks over there.”
Charlene had three poodles that, according to Phil, ran Charlene’s life for her, but Dora wasn’t thinking about dogs. She moved slowly back to the kitchen. New built-in oven and stove top, compartment sink and dishwasher, decent-sized refrigerator-freezer, pine cabinets under a wide counter where she could put two or three stools. More than adequate. Not huge, but then, she’d only be cooking for one. The bathroom was nice, all newly tiled in white with bright Caribbean stripes of blue and pink and apricot. The place could have been designed with her furniture in mind. Everything she had would fit!
“How much?” she asked.
Charlene mentioned a price and Dora said a silent prayer of thanks. She could handle it. She would even have enough left over to do something with that messy bit of yard down below. When Charlene left to go type up a contract, Dora stayed there, hugging the place to herself, as though it were a child. She could have a little garden, and the garage beneath the living space was perfect for her car, and for storage. And a place to paint! Before she married Jared, she used to get a kick out ofpainting, but he’d said it was too messy to do anywhere at his place. All her painting stuff was…Damn! It was still at Jared’s place. In the garage! She hadn’t remembered to clean out the garage!
Never mind. She’d do it right away. And she’d plant a tree and some evergreen shrubs in the little yard. And the lavender she’d wanted. And the pansies. And this fall she’d put in some bulbs. She was amazed to find herself a little weepy at the idea. A place of her own. It would be the first time she’d had a real, honest-to-God place of her own.
Closing was set for ten days away, but the people told her she could move in before closing if she wanted to. On Tuesday she moved. Her furniture came out of storage: her own bright rugs and comfortable rocker, Grandma’s pine bedstead and dresser. A new sleeper sofa for when one of the younger kids came visiting, Grandma’s honey pine table and chairs, the coffee table she’d had made from a fancy old door she’d found at a flea market, the two leather chairs she’d bought on time payments while she was still at the farm.
She found some ready-made curtains at Sears, ones that would blow in the wind, and at the nursery a big terra cotta pot for planting lavender in. She found pansies at the Wal-Mart to put by the stoop downstairs. The final step was to drive to the post office nearest Jared’s place and turn in a change of address form. Then, on her way home, she went down the alley at Jared’s place and used her spare key to get into the garage. Jared had been out of the hospital for a week now, but Jared’s mother had called Dora at work to say he was staying at the boardinghouse, with her.
“Jared doesn’t want you to leave,” she had said in her firm, unemotional voice, as though her saying so might change Dora’s mind.
“Jared doesn’t need a wife,” Dora had told her. “He needs a cook-housekeeper. And he’s making enough to hire one.” Still, she hadn’t filed for divorce. Not yet. She had a feeling it would be like poking a snake thatwas coiled to strike. She could let the legal part wait while Jared got used to the idea.
All her painting things were in the garage, dusty but undisturbed, not even dried out. She stumbled on her way in, for the floor was as badly cracked as Jared had said, and she stumbled again coming out, but she didn’t forget to relock the door. She drove down the alley and came back to park at the curb. She used the key in the front door so she could
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