Lucid Waking

Archive for December 10th, 2006

The Caretakers

Originally published April 01, 2006

                “Oh, no!” she gasped. She stared at the bare floor where her seventy-five thousand dollar rug was lying before she went to sleep that night. Now at nine o’clock in the morning, there was nothing there but wood floor and a note conspicuously placed on the spot that it had been. She ran down the stairs and picked up the note before running into the study, hoping no one in the house woke up. She closed the door quickly, locked it and turned on the light that sat dimly in the middle of the worktable. She cautiously opened the piece of paper, breaking the purple, wax seal pressed with a picture of a house in flames. Her hands started to shake and she became pale as she read through the letter: You’re payments are way past due, Celia, and we have given you a final warning. Fortunately, we have discovered the exact amount we needed in your home last night and we will receive this in exchange for the alternative. I hope you don’t cross us again and continue to send the proper amount to The Sender at the bank.  Should you mention this event or letter to anyone, remember what happened to Rachael and don’t underestimate our network. Thank you for your payment, and make sure your payments are not late, again. No substitution will work next time. Sincerely, The Caretakers. Ps. I’m sure your husband would love to hear about that affair you’ve been having for some time, especially since you have the baby coming. But don’t worry; we won’t harm the child.
                A rapid knocking on the door made Celia jump as she hid the letter in her slipper and ran to open the thick polyester curtains. Sunlight burst into the space as she ran across to the other side of the room, switching the light off as she went.
                “Celia, what’s wrong? And what happened to the rug I bought you in China?” her husband asked her through the still closed door. His voice was slightly muffled, but it was still apparent that he was worried about her. Her heart sank as she thought of the future child that most likely wasn’t his, but he would see as his own, anyway.
                She frantically ran to the door, trying to make as little noise as possible and unlocked it. “I’m sorry, love. The rug is getting cleaned right now. I didn’t tell you. It’ll be back next week.” At least, she thought, it will give me a week to find it and replace it with cash.
                “As long as you know where it is,” her husband led her into the room and sat her down, taking the chair across from her. “But, what was all that yelling about?”
                “Oh, just pains. I’m sure this baby will be a soccer player with they way he or she kicks,” she smiled slightly and took her husband’s hand.
                “And why were you locked up in the study?”
                “Oh, you know how vocal I am. I didn’t want to wake you.”
                Her husband smiled at her and stood up. “You should have thought of that before you screamed the first time. But I’m glad everything is all right.”
                She smiled until he left the room when she collapsed and put her head in her hands. She listened for the click of the door upstairs when her husband closed the door of the library to start work. She slowly got up and tiptoed up the stairs to her bedroom and sat down at the vanity. She pulled out pearl necklaces and diamond bracelets frantically and placed them in a cardboard box before getting dressed and going down to the bank. She waited until the desk in the farthest corner was open and stepped up.
                “Yes, may I help you?” An ageless woman sat at the desk with golden brown hair and hazel eyes behind glasses. She smiled a usual plastic smile of a corporate worker having a long day, but there was fire behind her eyes that seemed out of place.
                “I’d like to send this to my caretakers,” she said giving the woman the box. “Next day delivery, if possible.”
                The woman frowned slightly, and placed the box in her desk. Her eyes still seemed to have a mischievous look, but she said in an absolutely serious tone: “That’s going to cost a little extra.”
                “How much?” Celia asked hurriedly pulling her wallet out of her purse.
                “Twenty dollars,” the woman said as she pulled out a blue form from a filing cabinet and started filling out information.
                Celia pulled out a fresh twenty from her pocket and placed it on the desk, quickly leaving the bank. When she got home, she found a note on her pillow.
                Thank you for your next payment. We appreciate the promptness of this installment. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you. Sincerely, The Caretakers.

The Only Voting Obligation for December

Remember to vote! Best of the Blog due date is quickly approaching. Soon it’ll be the last week and you’ll have so much to read. I apologize for the amount of reading to do, but it can’t be helped. Personally, I don’t care how you decide, but I would really like your vote. To review: the last votes will be taken December 31, 2006 at 11:59 PM. On January 1, 2007, I’ll post the winners and put them on the Best of the Blog page. Then, I’ll get rid of all the links for this years posts, and we’ll start over with the post written for the first of the year. If there are any questions, leave a comment and I will answer it.

Every Morning…

Originally published on March 31, 2006

            “Have you ever known the peace that you have just before waking? That split second before your brain acknowledges the sensory world around you and your dreaming world drifts away, that feeling of absolute serenity before it shatters like a soap bubble.” Grandmother Meredith looked out the window of the hospital at the azure sky. Tami grabbed her grandmother’s hand and gave it a little squeeze.
            “We’ll get through this, Grandma. Don’t worry.”
            “Every morning, I used to get up and make orange juice. Then Tom would join me downstairs and we used to sit on the porch and drink the juice. At eight, he would go to work and I would take care of the kids. We lived a long life like that. I don’t know what he’s going to do without me. I don’t think he knows how to work the stove let alone the washing machine…” her grandmother’s voice trailed off as she choked back tears. Tami sat on the edge of the bed and held her frail grandmother close.
            “Grandpa said to hold on. Besides,” she sat her grandmother up on the bed and looked her in the eyes, “Sam will be more than willing to teach him how to use the washing machine.”
            Meredith smiled and for a moment Tami saw the young thirty-year-old woman who would get up at six in the morning to make orange juice for her husband. The same woman who stood proud when her daughter got married and took care of baby Tami while her parents were away. Then the smile left and she closed her eyes and turned her head.
            Tami choked back tears and held her grandmother’s hand to her heart. “Please pull through, Grandma! I love you!”
 
            Several weeks later, Sam and Tami were sitting outside on their balcony when the phone rang. Tami went in and answered it. She stood for a couple minutes inside before hanging up and joining Sam on the balcony again.
            “Well? How’s Meredith?” Sam asked her holding her hand in his.
            Tami looked across the driveway and watched the kids playing baseball in the park a block away. She smiled and glanced down at their hands.
            “She’s fine. She’s coming home on Wednesday.”