Chapter 5: Spaces

...the new friends consider what's missing...


Lola didn’t think it’d be a problem. But when quitting time came Thursday, she felt the empty space where Sherry had been. She was the only one she told about not drinking and so served as constant reminder and excuse. When friends said to meet at Stephen’s Place, she’d say she was going to dinner or a movie with Sherry. They wouldn’t question when you had something else. Neither would she.

But Sherry flew out Wednesday and was to return late Sunday and she didn’t have any place she needed to be. Her mouth felt dry as her mind raced. This was, she realized, her first true test alone.

Once, twice and three times she considered dropping by Stephen’s, because having one wouldn’t be the same as being drunk. But it wasn’t not drinking, either. She picked up her pace, walking quickly, hoping to tire herself. The March weather helped. Gray clouds and gusty winds chilled her and she wanted to be warm. She could turn on the heater as soon as she got home, she thought as incentive. But she couldn’t help thinking, while crossing Taylor, where she’d end up if she went right and who’d be there. She kept walking straight to her apartment.

A small studio on Polk, it overlooked the busy street of shops, restaurants and bars. None of her friends drank there, but the loud boisterous two a.m. talk outside sounded familiar. She shut the blinds and turned on the TV and tried not to think, because when she did anxiety for the next few days competed with thoughts of the summer ahead.

Since she stopped drinking there’d been more money and more time. The money was like a miracle. She could afford to eat out, make a dent in her credit card bill and still have something left. The extra time was more a burden, because it proved she hadn’t been doing much besides working, going out and sleeping. Was that a life?

Friday, she woke early and felt rested. Sherry sent a text message to boost her spirits. “Be Strong,” it read. She repeated the words throughout the day. It wasn’t hard to be strong on payday when she was happy. She joined a group for sandwiches at lunch. Everyone had plans for the weekend. Hers was to “Be Strong”.

Early that evening, Sherry called and suggested a movie. Maybe tomorrow, she told her, not wanting to go out alone at night when she might be in a dangerous mood. She tried reading a book but the antics in a Friends rerun captured her attention before drifting off to sleep.

She woke early the next day and, anxious to do something, quickly dressed to go for coffee and a walk. Sherry’s text that day read “Stay Strong!” She asked about the movie and mentioned her birthday party was that day. Lola wished her the best.

Not finding a movie she liked, she spent the day walking and testing the adage that San Francisco had more bars than laundromats. (It was true). Saturday night was like the night before and she was growing restless.

The next day Sherry’s message read “Forever Strong”. If forever were as long as the last few days, she was in trouble because Sunday was a repeat of Saturday. Monday found her glad to go to work, a very strange sensation indeed.

*

Soon after returning from Riverside, Sherry witnessed a fire not far from Lola’s apartment. Orange and yellow flames engulfed the building and lit the dark night, searing her mind and leaving an impression days afterward. Thick python-like hoses extended from fire hydrants and trucks and streets were wet with water. As firefighters sought to contain the blaze a crowd of onlookers gawked, like people watching the sun set on the ocean horizon. Some, though, reveled as at a bonfire.

She recalled there’d been a mom-and-pop grocery, dry cleaners and other shops on the street level and apartments on the upper ones. A group of people, faces filled with terror, clustered nearby. Some were barefoot and wore jeans, shorts or whatever else they had on before escaping. One trembling woman clutched a calico cat as though it were the only thing she had in the world.

Those people lost their home, Sherry thought, through no choice of their own. She felt blessed for never having been put in such need.

She went out of her way to go by the fallen structure, which smoldered for days. Contractors erected a chain link fence and where strollers once glanced through doors and windows there was nothing but debris. What had been home and business to so many was now an empty space. The contrast fascinated her and she felt guilty. Was she like those revelers, thrilled despite the pain to others?

One day when passing she studied the bare foundation whose concrete insets and buttresses were like the contours of a giant cookie cutter. When she raised her gaze to the building behind, with walls like skin newly exposed to the sun and windows climbing one over the other to the top, a movement caught her eye.

A white cloth fluttered right to left across a pane, starting at the top and progressing to the bottom, removing film and restoring clarity. A woman’s face popped into the frame and looked in all directions before disappearing.

There was a spring in her step when Sherry walked home.


The persons and events in this story are fictitious and do not represent any living person or real event.

The next chapter will be posted September 5.