Courtesy DOD
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Categories - Copywriting - Shopping - Free Online Business Help - Telecommunications Services Articles: Self - An Unanswered Note As I was leaving the local Home Depot store, nails in hand, I noticed a woman struggling to load bags of fertilizer into the back of her SUV. She was in her late forties or early fifties, no more than 5’2”, 100 pounds, and attempting to lift the bags, which were over half as large as she was, out of a standard shopping cart, turn and lift them up over her tailgate, and drop them inside. I stopped and asked, “May I help you with those?”
She looked at me and said, “Please. These didn’t look as heavy when the guy loaded them into my cart for me.”
As I loaded the bags into the back of her SUV I said, “Yeah. They really shouldn’t allow customers to handle things like this. If you not used to it, these heavy bags can cause damage to your back that won’t show up for years. Suddenly, you can find yourself dealing with arthritis and the doctors will tell you it’s just an aging process”.
“Oh. Are you a doctor?” she asked.
“No, but I have worked in construction and noticed the large number of men who seem to be stricken in the industry as they get older so, I became curious and looked for possible causes online. Universities and research centers seem to think that the actual damage can occur from handling heavy things or even sports that people participate in years before the problem actually shows up. The awkward twisting involved in loading these things into a car increases the chances of permanent damage.”
She studied me for a short time and said, “You know, when I get these things home, I have to somehow get them up a small hill and into the back yard. I don’t know you, but I live less than two miles from here. I’ll give you a cup of coffee and a sandwich if you’ll come help me.”
I thought, “Aw crap. Small hill. I’ve heard that one before”, but it was only three bags and I said, “No problem if you don’t mind having that parked out in front of your house”, as I pointed to the 30 year old beat up truck that used to be my Dad’s.
“No problem” she said. My name’s Sharon.
As I suspected, Sharon’s house is a split-level home built up the side of a fairly steep hill. There was a for sale sign out front. Sharon started to grab one of the bags, but stopped when I said, “Sharon. We talked about this at the store. Please just let me do it. It’s not that big of a deal.”
She looked at me, smiled and said, “OK. I’ll go make your sandwich. I have roast beef, ham, tuna, or I can make a mean BLT. I also have coffee, tea, coke, diet coke, beer, or a really nice cabernet from Marin. Place your order and just come through the sliding glass door in back when you get done”.
“Thank you, but I’m really not hungry so just a glass of cabernet would be great.” As I walked through the sliding glass door, Sharon handed me a paper towel to wipe away the sweat and told me to have a seat in the family room straight ahead. I noticed that she had taken her hair down from the bun it had been tightly wrapped in and it hung down to her waste. I picked a dark colored chair that turned out to be really comfortable. There was small table next to it with a phone on it and I laid the damp paper towel on it.
In moments, Sharon walked in with a glass of wine, the bottle, which she sat on the table, and a fresh paper towel, which she handed to me. I had stopped sweating, but I still had some moisture on my face so I used it. She sat down on the floor between my legs and suddenly blurted out, “My husband died five years ago and my two sons live on their own. I was married for 28 years”.
“I’m sorry to hear about your loss”, I said.
She took a sip out of the glass of wine that she still held in her hand, looked up at me, paused for some time as I looked back at her, and said, “Unfortunately, you have another choice to make.”
“What’s that?”, I asked.
“A, I can get you drunk, B, I can drug you, or C, you can just cooperate.”
I was growing fairly warm in a good way from the brushing of Sharon’s back and arms against my legs, but I suddenly had visions of a closet junkie with AIDS infected needles projecting from all over her body like a porcupine and the warmth was replaced with a sudden chill. I was tempted to get up and leave, but, instead, I asked, “What kind of drugs are we talking about?”
“Levitra”, she said and then before I could finalize my vision of hundreds of men walking in and out of the sliding glass door on her patio, she added, “I’m a nurse. One of my girlfriends has a little problem at home and the drug salesmen give us stuff for free to try on our patients. I said I would bring a sample for them. I haven’t had sex since my husband died and I am glad to see that you are careful because I have no other protection, but I am no longer able to get pregnant. If there’s a chance that you might be infected at all, please turn me down.”
The warmth suddenly returned and I said, “A little bit of A with a whole lot of C would be my choice. I can do without the A if it bothers you, but you might want to keep B available as an option in case I resist”.
Sharon took another sip of the wine, rose her knees, and then handed it to me saying, “Start on this while I find out how cooperative you’re going to be”.
I jumped as the phone next to me suddenly rang like a fire alarm. “Shit”, Sharon blurted out as she reached across me and angrily grabbed the phone. “Hello”, she almost screamed into it.
The voice on the other end was really loud and I could hear it like I was holding the phone to my ear. “Sharon! It’s Fran! Did you get the stuff for me!?” “For me?”, I thought.
“Yes I did” Sharon replied, “but I’m in the middle of something where I might be needing it. Can I call you later?”
There was a pause and then loud laughter on the other end of the line. It was the kind of cackle that witches make in the movies with no respect what so ever for the human condition or human beings. The chill suddenly returned and it wasn’t the kind of chill that went away easily. I knew why Fran had a little problem at home. Fran did her best to make sure that it became a permanent affliction when she screamed into the phone for the world to hear, “I told you no older than 25!! Call me later and let me know how it worked out!!”
Sharon disconnected the phone and slid across me back onto the floor. After a few moments, she looked up at me and pleaded, “I’m sorry. Her husband and mine used to work together and were good friends. I won’t be discussing what happens between us with anyone”.
I took a big gulp of the fine wine and said, “You might want to make B more readily available”.
“Psycho bitch”, Sharon murmured.
The warmth began to return. I held the glass to Sharon’s lips and she took a sip. Then I leaned over, turned her head up, and gave her a kiss. She rose to her knees, slid across me to the bottle to refill my glass, placed her small hand on my chest, and pushed me back in the chair. “Finish your wine”.
I knew why Sharon had been married for 28 years and she would still be married if her husband had not died.
Early in the morning, the phone rang again and she was up and on her way out the door before I was fully awake. As I was wondering if it was Psycho bitch who just couldn't wait, Sharon yelled, “They had a big accident on the freeway and they need me at work. Stay or lock the door on your way out. I should be home after four. Please come over if you want.” The door slammed.
I went to her house about seven to find Fran screaming, cursing, and bawling on Sharon’s shoulder in the kitchen. Fran had thought that what Sharon had said about the Levitra was so funny that she had told her husband all about it. It was the first he had heard about Fran’s arrangements with Sharon to try to revitalize their sex life and he had quietly packed a bag and left.
I told Sharon that I would stop by another time, but, even though I tried a few times, I never found her at home before her home was sold. I left a note addressed to Sharon in an envelop in her mailbox.
"I am the guy who you got drunk and took advantage of. Because of what you did, I fully intend to ply you with a nice dinner and some fine wine in order to seek restitution. Since you are a lady, I will not make you sweat like you made me sweat, but be prepared to endure the embarrassment of perspiration. Call me in order to suffer the consequences of your actions."
It went unanswered.
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