by Matthew Spataro
Mary Hart walks past the prostitute with a hard look in her eye, sizing her up. Her hand traces the ridged edges of her keys. The other woman returns her glare, but does nothing more. She rounds a corner, and leaves the prostitute to her duty.
It’s been a slow night for Dottie Minerva, clients preferring the warm bottle to the comfort her legs could offer. She shivers, pulling her arms tight around her. Her mind races to her kids and their home, all in danger if she doesn’t make enough money tonight. A heavy-set man comes upon her. He has a wad of bills in his fist and a glint in his eyes. He jerks towards the nearby alley. She nods. They enter together. He exits alone, waddling towards his car.
Dustin dusts off his trousers before getting back into his Rolls Royce. He adjusts himself inside the safety and warmth of his car. Everything in and on the car remains right where he left it, surprisingly. Dustin’s smarmy face unfurls into a self-righteous grin. With business taken care of, he starts the engine, and heads on down, into the night. The light changes just as he arrives. He guns it.
Hernando jumps back, almost hit by the expensive car. The young man looks up at the light, then down the street at the car as it fades from view. He screams and curses to no one. The grocery bag he dropped in his terror spills onto the street. He bends down to pick it all up: the eggs, cracked, the milk, spilt, and the tampons, completely fine. He looks both ways before crossing, and thankfully doesn’t repeat what happened before. Hernando barely has time to acknowledge the elderly woman greeting him as he passes. He stalls, but not for long. Shaking his head, he continues towards his parked cab.
Miss Beal nods to the distressed man as he passes her stoop. Her cat purrs in her arms, snuggling into her jacket. She smiles down at the little kitten, stroking its somewhat matted fur. She pulls a little bowl out of her shopping cart. Beal takes what’s left of her water and pours it in there, allowing the cat to lap it up. She doesn’t stop stroking it. Once done, the cat looks up at its master with its one good eye and meows once more. The lady bends, slowly, to pick it up. When the kitten is back in her hands, she notices the small amount of change in the bowl, and the sound of sharp heels making their way down her street.
Mary doesn’t spare a second glance at Miss Beal as she strides away. Feeling satisfied that her good deed of the day was accomplished, Mary decides to take her leave. She re-wraps her scarf around her neck and hails the nearest taxi, fingers still around her keys. She gets in, the young man at the wheel exasperated. In the passenger side seat is a dented grocery bag. She jumps in, telling him her address and nothing more. It’s silent, the entire ride home.
Far away, in a dark home, a small girl waits on the couch. Julia’s eyes start to drift, and the small teddy bear in her grip is slipping. She is weary and tired. Yet all that is forgotten as the doorknob turns. She perks up, and rushes to the entrance. Julia greets her father, first to return. He made it back before mommy, like he promised he would. Like before, he kisses the daughter’s cheek and ruffles her hair. Dustin picks her up and takes her to bed. She rests herself on his paunch. She laughs, telling him he smells weird. She asks about the strange bruises around his neck and where he would go at this time of night. He laughs with her, and tells her to think nothing of it, makes her promise she won’t ask again, especially in front of mommy. He drops her off in her bed. The daughter pauses, but does not sleep. She looks outside where a yellow taxicab brings her mother home. It stops perpendicular to the Rolls Royce. Mary Hart, in all her grace and beauty, exits and stalks into the house. Julie, pleased with herself, sleeps.
Knowing that her family is safe and together is all she needs.
