She sat in the darkness waiting for the phone to ring. Images from the television brought the only light to the room. The lone person in the room sat in a chair that she "rescued" from the local Goodwill store. It was not fancy, not especially comfortable, but merely a place to sit. The Wizard of Oz played on the small television via an old VCR attached to it. There was no high definition, no DVD, and no cable stations to watch. The sound was turned down so that if a person listened very carefully, they could hear the scarecrow sing about if they only had a brain. She sat by the phone waiting for the nightly call. The phone was rotary. She often wondered if she had the last one in the whole town, or maybe even the whole world. There was no money for a cell phone contract. She only had one person who ever called her, and she was waiting for that call now.
The young man finished up his shift in the county morgue, and began the trek back to his dorm. Every night he worked from 6 pm to 10 pm. He was now immune to the sights, sounds, and smells of his work area. He now understood that you could not think of the bodies as people, but only as things to tag, bag, and store until the coroner was done with them. He learned a lot about anatomy, and even more about the oh so many ways people could die. It helped him in his anatomy and physiology classes, and most of the time the coroners were more than willing to teach. He had four hours of studying left before he could crawl into bed. Most of the guys on his floor would just be getting in from partying, but he never had the time nor the money to go out and do those things. He was focused on being a doctor. It was the ambition to become one that drove him and sustained him over the last four years. In one week, he would know if he gained acceptance into medical school. Try as he might, it was hard to suppress the nervousness that crept in to his mind at times like this. He just had to get in. For him, and the person who had sacrificed so much to get him to this point. He dug in his pocket for the calling card and began to dial.
She jumped when the phone rang. She thought she must have dozed, as the lion was wanted courage. She let the phone ring again and picked it up. "Hello?" she asked as if it would be anyone else at this hour.
"Hey mom," came the voice of her son on the other end of the line. The sound of her son's voice brought a smile to her face. She never got to hear it enough. She thought that after four years she would have gotten used to him not being around everyday, but that was not the case.
"Hi sweetheart," she said," Tell me about your day."
The young man talked about his classes, his projects, and what he had to eat. He never went into details about work, because he knew his mother would never understand nor care for what went on there. All she knew was that it was a job that helped him get better grades in school. He also had a hard time explaining how it was that he liked working in the morgue far better than he did the nursing home his first two years of school. At least in the morgue, no one threw up on you, crapped on you, or tried to hit you. "How was your day mom?" he asked.
"Oh fine," she answered. It was her usual answer, and one that she vowed would never change. She figured he did not want to hear about the seven days a week she worked or the 16 to 20 hours she put in. He didn't need to know that. He didn't need to hear that her legs hurt, her back hurt, and her heart hurt from the loneliness of having no one to come home to. Not that home was anything special. A one bedroom apartment in a not so nice part of town should never have been her home. Someday, she was going to find something better.
"Well mom our time is up," the young man said. He was careful to only use 15 minute segments of time on his calling card so that his mother would not have to buy so many. "I guess I better hit the books. I love you mom."
"I love you Eli," she replied. She tried to keep the emotion that goodbyes with him caused out of her voice. "Next week at this time you have some big news waiting for you the next day won't you?"
"Mom, I don't want to talk about it," he said tersely. "What happens will happen I guess. I need to go."
"Ok baby. Study really hard ok?" she whispered into the phone. She heard the click and then the dial tone. She sat and listened to it hum in her ear as if she could somehow reconnect to her son. The hum switched to a beep that was annoying, and she gently replaced the handset. Her eyes focused on the television to see Dorothy held prisoner in the wicked witch's castle. "I know how you feel," she said to the young girl trapped with no way out.
She pushed up out of the chair, and made her way to her bathroom. She needed to shower before she went to clean at one of the downtown offices. She didn't mind the work there. No one to bother you or yell at you for not bringing their food or worse yet grabbing your ass because they thought they could. The waitress job was far more distasteful, but the tips were pretty good. She looked over at the tip jar, and saw it was almost full. She needed to hide it, but she had it out and counted it just this evening. At the library she had someone help her look up hotel rooms in her son's town. She planned on being there for him on his big day. Whether he got in or not, she needed to be there for him. All of the long shifts, longer days, and going without things have been leading up to that day, and she was not about to miss it. She had enough for bus fare, the hotel room, and to treat Eli to a really nice meal somewhere after he got the news.
She replaced the jar in its hiding place and stepped into the bathroom. Calling the space small would be kind. A toilet, small stained sink under a cracked mirror, and a shower stall were the entire make up of the bathroom. She pulled off her sweatshirt, jeans, and underclothes and looked in the mirror. At 40 she thought she was too young to be called old, and too old to be young. She just was. As she peered through the stains on the mirror, she saw the lines around her eyes, on her forehead, and around her mouth that weren't there not too long ago. Her hands ran down her breasts, and she noticed that they were no longer the firm large breasts of youth. They didn't exactly sag, but they would not be mistaken for a 20 year old woman's either. She was not heavy. She did not have money for fast food, and all of the hours of working burned off more calories than she usually took in. She would pack a cheese sandwich, and some store brand potato chips when she did her cleaning job. Water from the faucet was good enough to drink. When she did her waitress work, they were given a meal as part of the "benefit package". It dawned on her that she never really had a meal at home. There was no time for that.