An American Salad

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Houston, Texas 1999, 8 p.m.

Warmth filled the room as the pungent aroma of burning wood mixed with Holly’s perfume. She picked up a thick, dog-eared journal, corners worn from years of use. Flipping through the volume, she added some clean sheets, clicked the ring mechanism shut, and neatly printed:

December 31, 1999

For the year 2000, I resolve for myself:

To be the very best ‘me’ I can. To forgive myself my imperfections. To be patient with myself. To choose one thing about myself I am dissatisfied with and change it.

Holly leaned back with a smile. She liked to start her resolutions the same way every year. Doing this felt comfortable, like old, worn bedroom slippers. She glanced at her watch before she began contem-plating her New Year’s resolutions. She had several hours before her friends arrived to celebrate the new millennium as well as the big 5-0. Fifty. Imagine that! She’d be 50 tomorrow!

Sipping a glass of icy cold champagne, she idly flipped through the journal…

September 16, 1986

I’m rushing to write this down; this is the last entry in my house. This house is the only place I’ve lived in since I married Arnold.

I’m stepping out, naked into the world, and I don’t like it one bit.

Ahead of me is a life on my own that I did not expect, or ask for. I have to find a job which terrifies me. I have to move into a dinky one bedroom apartment, because heaven knows I refuse to go back to Mom. I’m scared, I feel like an unwanted, worthless failure. Leslie and the movers are here, and I have to handle this mess.

Mom, are you OK? Leslie put her arm around Holly, who was softly sobbing.

I’ll be fine. Thanks. It’s just… it’s just that I never thought this day would come. Holly paused as she watched the men load the remainder of her furniture into the moving vans. She felt numb. Leslie, I need some time alone before I go, OK? I’ll call you when I get settled. Holly longed for her company but was embarrassed for Leslie to see her crying so much. Grimy and sweaty from packing, Holly wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her oversized T-shirt.

Sure, Mom. Leslie gave her mother a tender look and then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. See you later. You have my number at the dorm now if you need me, right?

Holly nodded.

Sighing, she turned to enter the house for the last time. Her eye caught the Sold sign in the yard and her mood darkened. Damn Arnold, she muttered. For nineteen years she’d put up with that son-of-a-bitch husband of hers. The memory of the day he told her he was moving out to be with the love of his life lingered like a bad case of heartburn. All the while, Arnold acted as if he were being so gallant. Ha! So generous of him to offer her the house that she couldn’t afford. A real gentleman would have continued to pay the mortgage and not force her to sell it. Where was Prince Charming when she needed him? And if Prince Charming wasn’t going to come, then at least she deserved alimony. Damn Texas. Why couldn’t she have lived in New York City where wives just weren’t dumped unceremoniously to fend for themselves?

Fighting back her anger, Holly began one last tour of the Jackson Castle. She wished she could dig a moat around it and hide from the world. Instead, she was alone and exposed. Arnold had never wanted her to work and that had been OK with Holly. But now, she had no choice. The thought of a paying job scared her. Would she be able to support herself? She wasn’t sure she could do it alone.

Holly looked up and found she was standing at the door of Leslie’s room. Fond memories quickly calmed her. Holly could still picture Leslie at five-years-old wearing her bright, red-footed pajamas. As she took a breath, her head was again filled with the clean sweetness of baby shampoo and almond-scented lotion. The two of them would lie together in bed and read. Leslie would always beg for one last story and most of the time Holly would oblige, reading until Leslie dozed off. Jumbled images of giggling girl friends playing with My Little Ponies and slumber parties caressed her. She could see Leslie standing before the closet door mirror, turning this way and that, making sure her prom dress fit just so.

Holly smiled and moved down the hall.

Before Holly realized it, she was at the door of the master bedroom. As she stepped across the threshold, the musty air of the room assaulted her nose. Through the dust motes that streamed in by way of the bare window, Holly stared at the faded carpet. Parts of it remained crushed where the hefty, dark pine furniture had stood. Despite her diligence, plaster and paint could not completely hide traces of a fist-sized hole in the wall. Arnold had broken his hand on that one and it served him right, she said to the wall.

The image of that fist set off flashes of altercations fueled by Arnold’s drunkenness and carousing. Holly was unable to shake the images out of her head, especially the ones of their last fight. That was several months ago when Arnold had tried to force himself on her. His rough groping combined with the obnoxious stench of alcohol and tobacco on his breath as he pressed his tongue into her mouth was too much. She had struggled, broke loose and fled the house. Holly relived the desperation she felt, even though she had been trying hard to forget it. She saw herself opening the door of Arnold’s truck to find shelter from the light drizzle. Arnold had left the keys in the ignition. What a jerk! Holly drove aimlessly, trying to think about what was she going to do. Then, she returned defeated – too embarrassed to go to a friend’s house and too broke to go elsewhere. Thank God, Arnold was passed out on the couch when she returned.

Leaning against the wall, Holly closed her eyes. How stupid she’d been, she thought. She should have listened to her aunt’s warning not to marry right out of high school. Give yourself a little time, her aunt had said. She would have if she hadn’t been so scared of not being able to find someone who would love her and want to marry her. Somehow she’d always thought she couldn’t make it without a man. Now she had no choice.

Holly moved on. The only comforting part of this whole mess, she decided, was that she still had Leslie and she wouldn’t have to put up with Arnold any more.

A stop in the kitchen triggered more pictures from the past. Neighbor ladies drinking coffee around the kitchen table on frosty mornings, talking over problems with their kids, sharing the latest gossip of who left whom and planning shopping trips. Bitches, she snarled. Where were these friends now that she needed them?

As she passed through the den and looked out into the back yard, Holly could swear she heard kids laughing and playing, chasing each other and splashing in the wading pool. She could smell hot dogs cooking and hear adults laughing. Some friends they turned out to be, she said wearily as she locked the back door. As soon as the group they had socialized with discovered she and Arnold were splitting up, they all became as elusive as dragonflies. I guess they think divorce is infectious, she concluded.

Finally, Holly locked the front door and headed to her car, refusing to look back. What’s gone is gone, she mused, or was that tomorrow is another day? At least with the house proceeds she had a little money to operate on until she could find a job. Holly climbed in the car, cranked up the engine and bravely forged her way to her new apartment near the center of town.

Holly spotted a couple pushing a baby stroller down the street as she cruised out of her neighborhood. Damn, she said. Everywhere she went all she saw were couples, and more couples. How depressing. She just couldn’t take many more reminders that she was alone. Hopefully, her new neighborhood, near downtown Houston, was a couple-free zone.

About 45 minutes later, Holly pulled up to a once elegant, red brick building that had been divided into four apartments. The movers were waiting for her. She opened the main door to the building and then unlocked her front door that opened into the foyer. At least the fresh white paint made the apartment look bigger, she said to the men in motion. The movers quickly unloaded the small amount of furniture that Holly had refused to sell at the garage sale and waited patiently for a tip. Holly grudgingly produced a few bills. The men disappeared and she was alone.

Holly slumped onto the couch to rest for a few minutes. She still had not met any of her neighbors, although she saw what she assumed to be their cars outside. After a brief respite she went about putting things away in the kitchen. At least it would be in order. When it appeared that she had at least cleared enough room to function she decided to call it a day.

Something to eat might cheer me up, she thought. Food had always comforted her when she was feeling low, which caused her to carry around about twenty extra pounds. Looking in the newly organized pantry, Holly couldn’t find anything that appealed to her. Going out for a bite began to seem more interesting. The modest apartment was already closing in on her and she felt the need for a breath of fresh air. A consultation with her purse, however, told a different story. The movers’ tip had wiped out most of her cash. That meant hamburger and fries. No Coke, only water. Oh well, Holly smiled grimly. At least I do have some money. And, better yet, I don’t have to clean up before going out.

As Holly left the four-plex, she glanced at her watch. Seven o’clock. The September evening was warm, and the sun was not close to setting. She decided to walk. A few minutes later she arrived at the hamburger joint, Tommy’s, and took a seat in an empty booth near the back. From there she could observe people coming and going.

Tommy’s must have been here since the dark ages, she reflected. The rather dim lighting revealed one wall lined with booths covered in worn, red vinyl. A few were cracked and torn, and no effort had been made to repair them. The tables though clean, were a yellow instead of white, reflecting their years of use. Scratches marred the surfaces, with a dark nick here and there. The linoleum on the floor had faded, perhaps at one time having a black speckled pattern running through it. Small areas in front of the booths were weary from decades of hungry people sliding in and out, the linoleum almost gone.

Holly could hear the cooks chatting and laughing in the back and smell food cooking. A few customers sat at the counter on old, round swivel stools, wolfing down burgers and fries served up in red plastic baskets. All in all, the place had a comfortable feel. Holly knew she would come here often.

A girl, who couldn’t be much over sixteen, came to take her order.

What’cha want? she asked casually as she chomped on a big wad of gum. She was dressed in a pair of short shorts and a tight shirt.

Hamburger all the way, with fries. Also a large glass of water.

Got it. The girl scribbled furiously on her pad and then immediately disappeared.

At least she’s got a job, Holly moaned. As she looked around Holly noticed a stack of newspapers. She sauntered over and picked one up. It was a free copy of the local neighborhood gazette. She carried the paper back to the table and idly perused its contents. The main story concerned the lack of a stop sign at one of the neighborhood’s busiest intersections. The story occupied at least half of the front page. Holly shook her head wondrously. I’m worried about my next meal and they’re fighting over the cost of a sign, she thought grimly.

A few minutes later the waitress arrived with the hamburger basket and plopped it on the table.

I’d like some ketchup please, Holly faked a polite voice.

Over there, the girl called back over her shoulder as she walked away, pointing to a shelf full of salt shakers, extra napkins and straws.

Shaking her head, Holly got the ketchup herself. Even I could do a better job than that, she muttered under her breath.

As she picked at her dinner, she began to browse through the rest of the paper. The classified section caught her eye. There, among the notices for garage sales and free puppies, was a small column of help wanted ads. The third ad from the bottom piqued Holly’s interest. It read:

HELP WANTED

    Girl Friday needed for business school.    

Phone, filing, basic administrative skills.

No experience necessary.

Apply in person weekdays 2-4 p.m.

Her spirits lifted, Holly decided that she would apply the next day. After all, she had those qualifications. She had been a Girl Friday to that jerk Arnold, catering to his every need for all those years. Feeling immediately better, Holly swiftly finished her burger and left, leaving no tip for the apathetic waitress.

The possibility of a job and the brisk walk back did her good. As she rounded the corner, she spied a man in a light brown suit, approximately six feet tall, putting his key in the lock of the foyer door to her apartment building. He had black hair peppered with gray at the edges. No fat could be detected on his body. She stood motionless and watched, too embarrassed by the way she looked to meet him just yet.

In an instant, he was gone. Holly waited a few more minutes to be sure he was no longer in the foyer before she headed inside.

After entering her apartment, she dropped down on the couch and studied the ad carefully. The school was on Main Street, just south of downtown. Good, at least it was reachable by bus if she had car trouble. Holly searched some of the boxes that were lying on the floor for her road map but was unable to locate it. She gave a big sigh and, turning on the TV, watched until she fell asleep.

The next morning, Holly woke up, still on the couch. The television was loudly blaring the Today Show. Startled, she didn’t realize where she was. Then she remembered – she was alone in a strange new place. The bright autumn sunlight streaming through the curtains did little to comfort her. The apartment felt cold and uninviting. Holly began to fight back the tears that welled up in her eyes.

Damn, she muttered. She hadn’t cried since she moved her things out of the house. Crying should be over by now, she scolded herself. Holly sat up and stretched, grabbing her back. It ached from the awkward position in which she had slept, not to mention all the packing and lifting she’d done. After nursing the tenderness, she rose and headed into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she emerged feeling better. She bundled herself in her ancient white terrycloth robe and wrapped her hair in a large, blue towel. The robe was her favorite article of clothing because it had the ability to comfort Holly just as her stuffed bear Sparky did when she was a child. ‘Comfy Robe’ quickly began to soothe her aching body.

Holly entered the kitchen and rummaged in some of the boxes. At least she was able to find the coffee and the pot. She fixed a cup, grabbed her journal and climbed back on the couch to begin writing. Writing always quieted her feelings and helped her get a grip on reality.

Spent my first night in my new apartment. It isn’t large but God it’s too quiet. The TV helped drown out the quiet in the apartment and at the same time block out some of the noise buzzing around in my head. In a few hours, I’ll apply for my first job – a new experience I’m not looking forward to.

Right now I ache all over from sleeping crunched on the sofa.

Achy body, achy heart.

I’ve got to pull my act together so I can get this job.

After a few minutes of writing, the sun, which now flickered through her living room window, appeared more inviting. Holly pulled back the curtains and idly gazed out onto the sidewalk and street. As she watched, she heard the front door to the four-plex open and out stepped the mysterious man she’d noticed last evening. Holly hastily stepped away from the window, hoping the man wouldn’t see her. Thankfully, he seemed to be in a hurry and never looked back. Dressed in an immaculate navy suit and carrying an expensive looking briefcase, he rushed up the street towards his car. He climbed into the late model Olds Cutlass parked out front and roared off.

Holly glanced at her watch. 8:30 a.m. Her mind began to fill in missing information about the mystery man. Maybe he’s an attorney, she thought to herself. Or maybe a bank vice-president. He’s working banker’s hours, that’s for sure. After several minutes of speculation, Holly called a halt to her mental guessing game. This is ridiculous, she reflected. She didn’t need to get involved. Besides, he’s probably married. Any man that good looking must be attached. She spent a few more minutes with her journal.

The rules changed on me in the middle of my life’s game plan and I DON’T WANT TO PLAY, WORLD!!!! Not being on my own and alone. And certainly not interviewing. All I feel is empty, numb, and so alone.

Glancing at her watch, Holly realized it was now 9:00 a.m. This left her time to unpack and then spend the duration of the early afternoon, preparing to interview for that administrative assistant position. Holly badly needed work. She’d never had a paying job and didn’t know anything about that darn contraption called a computer. Everyone was talking about them these days. She had borrowed a typewriter and was up to about 45 words per minute but couldn’t do shorthand. What really worried Holly was that the bottom had fallen out of the oil market and jobs were hard to come by. She’d been lucky to sell the house at a decent price. Well, she just better have something soon because her cushion from selling the house wouldn’t last forever.

Holly examined herself carefully in the mirror. She had her hair pulled back in a bun. Her blue suit and silk bow tie made her look like a serious candidate. Carefully, she checked her makeup. Not too much, not too little. Taking a deep breath, she headed into the living room, grabbed her purse and walked outside. She cruised down Main Street, newspaper in hand. The scenery began to change. Buildings sagged, in need of repair. Faded paint made the buildings and houses look tired. Faces of the community began to change from mostly white to a rainbow of brown, tan, black and yellow. Finally, she saw the building ahead – Barrington Business School. Holly kept right on driving, too frightened to stop at the dilapidated building. No way I’m working there, Holly said. This is a bad neighborhood. If it is anything like I’ve seen on Houston Live at Five, I’d probably be robbed and raped the first day on the job.

Disappointed, Holly drove back to the apartment after making a stop at the convenience store to pick up a copy of the morning paper. She changed out of her suit and wrapped herself in Comfy Robe. The rest of the day was spent going through the ads and making calls. By the end of the afternoon, she was in tears. She didn’t have enough experience, the job was already filled, or they’d changed their mind about filling the job. Oh well, she’d keep at it. She had to find something soon.

Several days later, as Holly was poring over the want ads, the telephone rang.

Hello.

Dear, how are you doing? I’m so worried about you.

Fighting to restrain the irritation her mother could arouse, Holly calmly replied, Hi, Mom. I’m fine. Just doing some job hunting.

I am going to have surgery and need you to come help while I’m recuperating.

Oh, no! I hope it’s not serious, Holly said. Guilt bubbled to the surface. It is serious. I’ve developed a severe infection from an ingrown toenail that won’t clear up. The doctor is going to remove the infected area. I won’t be able to walk for some time, Mom said.

Oh, so this is just an in-office procedure? The guilt evaporated rapidly.

Not just. It’s on my right foot and I can’t drive. Besides, I won’t be able to walk for at least two days.

Ok, Mom, Holly said. When do you want me there?

You need to be here tomorrow morning at nine to take me.

Yes, Mom. See you then.

Holly groaned, Great. Just what I need. Things were already bad, but a visit to her mother? Now she was going from the frying