Fiction Unforgettable December 2006

by Andrea P. Stuart
Image by Jennifer Trenchard

Alone and with heavy eyes, she looked at the world through a clouded memory. Little did she know, she would soon find her way back to her familiar life.

She gazed at the world with groggy uncomprehending eyes. Apparently it was nobody’s business but her own that she lay on a bus bench, right arm folded over her forehead in teepee fashion, head turned to the side, focusing her gaze on a movie poster plastered to the wall of the shelter reading the words Donald Camp Stars in Vegas Nights. Her only other company was a seemingly catatonic elderly lady and a yellow Lab.

Her eyes closed and her nostrils flared as she inhaled deeply of the carbon monoxide fumes wafting through the station. She exhaled, opened her eyes, and looked down at her right hand. For a moment she thought she was completely out of her mind for not putting money back in her purse until she realized she did not have her purse and that which was in her hand was not money.

Upon closer inspection she discovered the paper’s edge was serrated on one side, indicating some type of detachable form or ticket. She turned over the paper and noticed the heading, Hillsville Municipal Transportation. She rubbed the ticket between her fingers and furrowed her brows as her stupefied mind thwarted her efforts to recall where the ticket came from.

As the bus approached she rose to a standing position, wobbling on her feet like a toddler, and then proceeded to climb the three stairs to the driver. She handed over the ticket with quivering hands and staggered to a seat in the unoccupied back section of the bus. An elderly lady hobbled behind her, and the yellow Labrador retriever scurried past them after having evaded the sight of the driver.

As she sat in the bus gazing out the window in frustration she forcefully unwrapped the beige scarf that was wound twice around her neck and threw it to the floor. Thinking better of her action, she reached down to retrieve it from its position beneath the seat in front of her, and as she grabbed it she heard a most peculiar sound. As she looked at the scarf in her palm, she saw several golden hairs between her fingers.

She tilted her head to one side, bent slightly, and saw the dog that cowered in the space beneath the seat in front of her. She straightened and looked over the seats in the bus. The nearest person to her was a dapper gentleman dressed in a suit violating the keys of his laptop computer that rested on his black leather briefcase. The man was obviously making a frantic effort to meet some important deadline. He certainly wasn’t harboring any fugitive yellow Labs on this trip.

The person in front of him was the elderly lady whose Intuition Eau de Parfum was drifting to the back of the bus with the force of a malodorous stampede. That only left candidate number three, a homely looking gentleman in the seat behind the driver, whose lack of carry-on luggage and whose hygienically-challenged appearance eliminated him as the owner of the dog.

She glanced down again at the stow-away, whispering in her highest pitched voice, “Hey...poochy, pooch….” A globe shaped head with golden whiskers and fur peered furtively from the hiding place beneath the seat. The dog’s fur reminded her of the models on shampoo commercials. No. This pooch most certainly didn’t belong to candidate number three.

She stretched her arm out to the dog and grabbed hold of his blue collar and spun it around so she could read it. There were two links on the collar, one of which had a tag on it that read Percy.

“Percy, eh?” She mumbled to herself. It was not exactly the most forgiving name for a person but perhaps it was fine for a canine.

Suddenly, the dog emitted a high pitched whimper followed by a bellowing woof. She could see the driver eyeing her in the oversized review mirror as she tried to calm the pooch, stroking the top of his head and speaking in a calming voice. But it was too late. The bus driver stopped the bus and announced that she and the dog had to get off.

“Way  to go, boy,” Sherry scolded. The bus driver would never have believed that she wasn’t the owner of the dog and anyhow it was starting not to be true. She was beginning to feel drawn to and protective of the animal.

As she and Percy stood behind the bus she noticed the advertisement on the back of the vehicle as it pulled away from her. She had a flash of recognition. The woman with chestnut colored hair and a fashionable suit on the “Have you seen me” poster was her. She trotted alongside Percy and tried to read the writing beneath the lady’s portrait.

She halted in shock and confusion, took hold of Percy’s collar and sat down on the curb.

“I’m Sherry Lawson!” she exclaimed to Percy. “That’s my scarf, the one I’m wearing right now…. But what’s going on?”

Suddenly Sherry began picturing random images in her mind. She could see smoldering black clouds billowing up behind her and a sense of urgency flooding her body. A menacing shadow dogged at her footsteps as she ran through shrubbery and leaped over the small boulders that lay in a creek bed.

Then, as if skipping pages in a book, Sherry saw flames bursting from the seams of a house; taunting the sky with the dance of power. The house in her mind had a familiar energy…there was a person she did not recognize as well. He wore a heavy jacket and gloves. Could this be her father or husband? Why was she having these images? Her head began to ache.

She snapped to with a sudden jerk and brought her vision back from its distant gaze. With trepidation she asked Percy a question, “Was our meeting by no accident, boy?”

Percy’s tail wagged with delight. He slopped his tongue over her cheek and eyes before letting out a dainty whimper.

Sherry sat with her head in her palms, elbows on knees, trying desperately to summon some tangible memories in order to make sense of the terrible images that were infiltrating her head. As she narrowed her eyes on the gutter storm drain beneath her heels, Sherry attempted to think over the day before, or any previous day for that matter.

Before long her mind started to clear and she recalled making breakfast in her kitchen, frying bacon and eggs. She remembered having to be somewhere…perhaps work? Yes, it was work. She was about to head out, already dressed in a work suit. As she flipped the last piece of bacon over she heard the back door slide open.

A man with dark clothing and gloves leaped over the table in the recessed breakfast nook and lunged for her. Sherry, turned to flee, caught the end of her sweater on the handle of the frying pan, sending grease onto the gas burners, over the counters, and onto the floor. As she fled out the front door flames had already engulfed the kitchen area and smoke billowed out the windows.

Sherry remembered running as fast as her legs could carry her with the ominous figure of her attacker in pursuit, stumbling through a creek in her heels with the shrubbery catching at her legs. Her memory seemed to skip ahead and she remembered waking on a musty mattress on the floor of a small shadowy room. Two voices could be heard through the walls speaking with angry inflections in their tones. She crawled to the wall on her hands and knees, head swirling, and listened to tidbits of their conversation.

“He didn’t send the money. Says that losing the house cost him everything. There’s no way we’re going to get a penny out of him.”

The second voice responded, “You were supposed to be in and out of there…. End of story. And now look at this mess!”

The mumbling voices became inaudible for a moment and then she heard the first voice clearly say, “We have to get rid of her…. This is not how it was planned! Three months, man! We’ve had her too long. Give her a shot just in case and we’ll stick her on a bus for home.”

And that was all she could remember hearing.

Like a person awakening from a dream, Sherry suddenly regained her memory about who she was.

“Percy!” she shouted. “Percy, you know me! You know me don’t you boy? I have a husband! I remember!”

Percy perked up with anticipation and jumped up on her as she stood. Sherry looked him in the eye and said, “Percy, can you take me home, boy? Can you take me to someone who knows me?”

She tucked her hand beneath the dog’s collar and the two scurried down the boulevard.

Nearly an hour passed when Percy began to wriggle and then escaped from Sherry’s grip. He took off like a rocket, speeding toward a mint green house. The house was unfamiliar to Sherry, but Percy felt compelled to approach. He began digging and scratching fiercely at the door until it finally opened. A tall gentleman wearing painting overalls emerged.

“Percy! Oh boy, where have you been?” the man called out as he knelt down to smother the dog with kisses and hugs.

Sherry stood one house down observing this familiar display of affection.

 “Victor,” she whispered. Then, as if her voice had a mind of its own, she repeated louder, “Victor!”

The man lifted his head and penetrated her eyes with a woeful gaze which melted into a look of relief. He walked to her hurriedly and embraced her.

 “Sweetie, I have missed you so much. Where were you? Did they harm you?” His eyes produced salty reservoirs that ran down his cheeks and into the crevice of Sherry’s lips as she rested her head against his cheek.

Percy looked up at them both, as if to say, “See, I told you I would find her.” Then Victor whispered, “Those were the longest three months of my life.” °