There was a man sitting on her bench.
And that irritated Molly. She liked her solitude, and he was intruding on it. There would be precious little of it when her daughter flew in from Bakersfield next week and put her in the retirement home like she’d been trying to do ever since Dan had died three years ago.
“Mama, it’s not safe for you to be rattling around in that big old house by yourself,” Leanne had said. “I didn’t worry when Daddy was alive to watch out for you, but now…”
Molly had wanted to laugh. Dan watch out for her? It’d been the other way around. She had taken care of him, waiting on the hateful jerk hand and foot while he cussed and bitched and moaned. But she hadn’t told their daughter that, not wanting to speak ill of her daddy. Why, the shit she could tell Leanne about Dan would curl the girl’s flat-ironed hair!
For two years following Dan’s death Molly had basked in solitude, going about her business with no one to answer to other than herself. Then she’d slipped on a patch of ice on the front porch, tumbled down the steps, and broke her hip. Continue reading “Time After Time”