$17.50
By Mary Purdy
We are standing side by side at the counter when I hear her
say, “It’s my birthday today.”
I turn to her and squeal, “It’s my birthday today too! Happy birthday!”
There isn’t much of a
response. I think I hear a quick intake
of breath, but she doesn’t look at me. I
hand over my driver’s license to the woman behind the counter.
“You get half off
your entry to the spa today,” she says and I grin in anticipation of this
yearly treat I give myself. I can hear
my fellow Aquarian having the same conversation with another woman behind the
counter.
“I thought it was free on your birthday,” she says.
“Oh, no, we changed
that policy last year,” the woman behind
the counter responds. As I start to sign
the credit card bill for $17.50 I can see the woman next to me exiting the
building. I turn to the women behind the
counter.
“Is she leaving because she can’t pay?”
“She said she had no money”, one replies.
“Hold on”, I say and hurry out the door to follow her
into the parking lot, scarf and gloves left behind, confronting the January winds.
“Miss,” I say.
“Miss!”
She turns, eyes
swollen, red with liquid.
“Please, let me pay
your entrance fee.”
“No” she spouts,
“You’re not going to do that. ”
“Please” I continue.
“It would make me so happy to do this for you. Really, it’s nothing.”
“No,” she
insists. “I can’t. I’m not going to let you do that.” Tears keep coming as she shuffles over to her
car, leaving me sandwiched between a truck and an SUV parked just outside of
their designated lines.
“Then I’ll be
thinking of you today,” I say, my breath
forming mist in the air.
“Good. Think of me,”
she says frostily, “because I’m dying”.
Her dusty brown hair quivers around her face as we stare at one another.
My attempted smile turns into a squint. My good intention punches me in the stomach.
I swallow her words and hesitate before saying. “Then all
the more reason to join me today in this beautiful place and let me pay for
you.”
She shakes her head, already seated in her car, engine
started, exhaust swirling around the vehicle.
Her broken voice mutters “No, I’m leaving.”
“Well, then,” I
say. “I’m sending you warm wishes.”
“Thank you,” she
says. “I appreciate it.” The car door
closes and moments later, her parking spot is empty.
I stand there useless, as her words etch themselves into my
mind. I turn and walk back into the
building to make the most of my $17.50.
Her sorrow hangs in the heat of the sauna. Her pain drips onto the ledges of the steam
room. Her voice echoes in the bubbles of
the whirl pool. I drink gobs of water to fill the hollow and wrap the
towel tight around me, a flimsy shield against the inevitable.
A little sad but still I loved this story. I would have taken you up on the 17.50 massage!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Barb, so much for reading this piece! Sorry to just be getting back to you now. So appreciated your support :) - Mary
DeleteI also think it's sad but mostly because the woman is dying and still can't accept a gift that would have made her life a little nicer, even if only for a few hours. Harriet
ReplyDeleteAw thanks, Harriet! So appreciate your support :) - Mary
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