Pink Flamingoed (10 page)

“You mean people still take black-and-white
photographs?”

“Some of my clients don’t want anything except
black-and-white.”

“So, do you do your own printing?”

“I do.”

As Brad and Amy walked home, he thought back to a few
weeks before, when Amy gave him a guided tour of the street.

“I know most people on the street are retired, but
what did they do when they worked?”

“Well, Barney owned a jewelry store. He just sold it
and retired a couple of years ago. Oh, guess what kind of work Harry did.”

“I have no idea.”

“What kind of Sherlock Holmes are you anyway? As tight
as Harry is with his money, you should’ve guessed that he’s retired from the IRS.”

“Is he really?”

“Scouts honor,” Amy replied, as Brad began to chuckle.

“So that’s the reason Harry always gets excited every
time someone wins big on one of the game shows. Harry wants to see them pay
lots of taxes. So, what about Wicked Witch Peabody? What did she do before she
started killing people?”

“Actually, she never did work. At one time her family
owned all this land, and when they sold it, none of them had to work again.”

“Boy, that beats writing for a living.”

“You don’t really think that, do you?”

“Only on bad days. Most of the time I love what I do.”

“And I love what you do, too.”

Brad and Amy continued to talk until they got back to
Amy’s house. “Hey, would you like to come in for lunch? I’ve got some homemade
soup and it will only take me a few minutes to heat it.”

“It doesn’t look like I’m going to get any writing
done before noon. But that’s okay, I’m having fun. Soup sounds great,” Brad
answered, “but I can’t stay long. I really do want to get some writing done
today.”

“Got to satisfy those fans. Right?”

“Yeah, I’m not as fortunate as those photographer
types. It takes me more than one click to make money.”

+++

Pastor Scott made phone calls to make sure each of his
parishioners had power and had plenty to eat. He smiled each time he found out
that he was not the first to call. He thanked God each time he discovered that
other people in the church had acted like Christ.

It had been a major ice storm. Although ice storms
were rare in   Hopemont,   Scott   knew   enough   about   them  to know that
with the  beauty of an ice storm came damage and catastrophes. As far as he
knew, Hopemont had been spared. No homes were damaged. No trees were lost. No
one had lost power. Scott knelt and thanked God for His protection from the
storm.

+++

“Hello.”

“Frank.”

“Yes, Scott. How are you today?”

“Well, a wee bit better than Fred Kendall.”

“What happened to him?”

“He tried to go outside during the ice storm and fell
and broke his hip. He waited until he thought it was safe to go outside. He
didn’t wait long enough. Doc just called me and told me about it. I just hung
up from talking to Elsie.”

“How’s Elsie taking it?”

“Well, she seems to be doing okay for a woman of
eighty-two whose husband has just broken his hip. The reason I called you was
to see if you’re busy. If you’re not, I thought maybe you might want to ride to
the hospital with me to see how Fred’s doing.”

“Sounds fine. When are you going?”

“Are you busy now?”

“I can be ready in five minutes.”

“I’ll pick you up.”

There is something about a cold, gray, wintry day that
can permeate the mind and change optimism to gloom. No longer is the mind
filled with joy, but a person’s thoughts change from being thankful and looking
forward to the future to a wasted life or an uncertain future. Sometimes, if
the sky is cloudy enough and the wind is gusting in a particular direction, the
gloom and doom of a midwinter’s day can engulf an entire neighborhood, even if
that neighborhood is Aylesford Place.

+++

Cora stood in front of the stove fixing a breakfast of
bacon, eggs, and homemade biscuits when gray thoughts seeped into her consciousness.
She forgot the wonderful husband God had given her, but remembered the children
she had never borne.

Before, I was a young woman with no children. Now, I
am an middle-aged woman with no grandchildren. Is Aylesford Place cursed? Scott
and Nancy are the only ones on the street who have children, and they had their
children before they moved here. Is there something in the water? Oh, why did I
drink the water all these years. Or is Frank the one who drank the water?

I have no grandchildren to use to get even with their
parents. I have no one to bring me cute little gifts that no one other than a
Grandmother  would want. I don’t even have any drawings on my refrigerator that
no one knows what they are except the artist. I can’t ask Frank to draw something
for me. He would have me committed. I can’t even ask him to sell the
refrigerator because I have no drawings to put on it.

And what if something happens to Frank? I don’t have
any children to support me in my old age. What if Ethel dies, too? I might end
up having to choose between marrying Harry and  being homeless. I’m not sure I
can handle being homeless.

+++

The mail had already come. Amy received no orders in
the mail. She checked her website. No orders there, either. Besides that, Brad
had promised to call. He had not called yet. The midwinter blahs were
contagious. They had entered Amy’s world.

Something must be wrong. I haven’t gotten any orders
since yesterday. Are photographs a phase that has come and gone? What can I do?
I don’t know how to do anything except take pictures. I can’t see myself
following movie stars around, or worse yet being hired by a woman to spy on her
husband. Someone might shoot me.

What can I do? Should I buy one of those mall photo
booths before it’s too late? I can see it now. Aging spinster spends her days
sitting on a mall bench watching guys take their new girlfriends to the mall
photo booth each week. And what happens if they just pull the curtain and sit
there? I won’t be making any money. And what about those young teens who try to
see how many of their friends they can squeeze into my booth? What if they
break my booth? I’ll lose all my meager income. Should I see if I can still
afford a photo booth in two malls?

+++

Brad sat in front of his computer, the screen blank.
Five minutes, and still no words came.

Do I have writer’s block? If so, is it permanent? If I
can’t write any more, I’d have to go out and get a real job. I’m not sure I
could handle a real job. If I sold this house, could I live off my royalties,
or would there be any royalties? Would anybody buy books written by a has-been
author? Would I get arrested if I hung out near a book store and tried to steer
people inside?

And what about Amy? She wouldn’t want to date a
has-been. Would she end up marrying an accountant or an engineer? Could Amy
handle being married to a man who never speaks?

+++

Harry got up from his chair and shuffled to the
kitchen. Not only did it take Harry three tries to get out of his chair, but he
forgot why he went to the kitchen.

Oh, no. Am I getting that dreaded disease? What if I
forget everything? I won’t even be able to tell that stupid contestant that he
should’ve bought a vowel. I must be losing it. I’ve noticed that I haven’t been
able to guess as many puzzles lately.

What if I cannot remember any new places to Google? Or
what if Google suddenly goes belly up? What will I do with my time? Or what if
the people who are e-mailing me find out about Google and decide Google is
better than Harry? Or what if this computer Rachel bought us is a lemon and it
quits working? What if Rachel won’t buy me another computer? Somebody told me
the library has computers. Will they let me check out one of theirs?

Oh, I must be losing it. What if Ethel can’t take care
of me anymore? Will she put me in one of those nursing homes? Those things are
expensive. They’ll suck up all my money. Would it be just as bad if I didn’t
realize they were taking all of my money?

And what about Ethel? What would she do? If I don’t
die quickly,  she  might  lose all of our money? What if the IRS audits her and I’m not around to protect her? I know how those guys work. I used to be one of
them. They might even come before she puts me in one of those nursing homes. I
can see it now. They’ll show up just as soon as I can no longer remember where
I keep my receipts. They’ll take us for everything we have and smile as they
sit us out on the street.

+++

Ethel sat in her living room chair. She watched as
Harry came back from the kitchen empty-handed. She worried about Harry.

Harry doesn’t seem as happy since he retired. Doesn’t
he like spending time with me? They say unhappy people die sooner. What if
Harry dies? I’m not sure I can be a tightwad, and Harry says we have to really
watch our money in order to get by.

How will I get around if Harry dies? Harry never
wanted me to drive. He always said it was a waste of money. He said gas was too
expensive. I’m not sure if he was right then, but he sure is now. It’s a good
thing that Harry seldom goes anywhere. That way he only has to buy a tank of
gas every couple of months. I don’t want anything to happen to my Harry. I
wouldn’t be able to stand it if he wasn’t around to complain.

+++

Ray and Doris Orthmyer were out for their morning on
the beach. However, just because they were in Florida was not enough to protect
them from the epidemic that had invaded their old neighborhood. After all, they
still owned a home in the Snow Belt, and that was enough to inflict them with
the winter curse.

What will happen if we can no longer afford to come to
Florida each winter? What will we do? We’ll start to argue over whose  turn 
it  is  to  fight the arctic blast and open the door long enough  to  get the
mail. And what about when it snows? Could we wait until the spring thaw melted
it? Would our neighbors complain? Would Harry come over and fall on purpose
just so he could sue us? Why should we have to shovel the snow or pay someone
else to do it? Couldn’t we just wait for the tide to come in and wash it away?
Maybe if we have to go back we can find an enormous snow blower with a remote
control. Then, we can stand in front of  the window, push a button, and blow
all that snow over in Harry’s yard. Or would it be better to blow it in the
direction of the parsonage. After all, that would give Kenny more snowballs to
throw at his sisters. Or if they had enough snow to build an igloo, Nancy could let the kids camp out. She might enjoy the peace and quiet.

But I don’t want to go back. I’m used to walking
barefoot. We could do that at home, but the frostbite might be too much for us.
Oh, God, if we have to lose our money some day, let us lose it while we’re in Florida. We might be homeless, but we could walk from beach to beach.

+++

Pastor Scott sat in his study trying to come up with a
sermon for Sunday. Every few minutes he would type a few words, and a few
minutes later he would hit the delete key.

I knew it would happen. How can we pastors come up
with so many sermons each year? Does this mean that God wants us to take more
Sundays off or retire sooner? I’m tempted to repeat a sermon. The congregation
probably wouldn’t notice. Most of them never understand it the first time. But
I can’t repeat a sermon. My kids would notice, and boy would I get it at the
dinner table Sunday after church.

How about a service of nothing but singing? No, the
congregation might decide they like it better, and then I’d be out of a job.

Then  what?  What  if  I  couldn’t get another church?
Who would hire me? Everyone would be afraid I was looking over their shoulder
judging their every move.

+++

Nancy
sat in her
recliner reading a novel. She had promised herself months ago that she would
read it, but she was just getting around to it. She heard voices coming from
the other room. Kenny had gotten on his sisters’ nerves again. There was
nothing like siblings fighting to bring on the winter curse. Nancy sat
wondering what might happen to her children.

What happens if Jill never finds the right man?
Everyone knows she thinks he should have proposed already. Will my bookworm
daughter grow up to be a librarian who never leaves home? No way that will
happen to Mallory. She will have tamed the wilds of Africa before she is
eighteen. What happens if the lions are not afraid of her?

And then there’s Kenny. He already torments his
sisters. Jill and Mallory think it won’t be much longer until he steps up to
committing major crimes. What if the police come looking for him some night?
What if he is arrested for cutting the heads off parking meters? Will Kenny’s
crimes cause Scott to lose his job? And if it does, what will we do? Will Scott
be able to get a job as the chaplain at Kenny’s prison?

Will I lose all my children? And if I do, will I lose
them early enough that Scott and I can have some more? What am I saying? Why
would I want to bring more trouble into the world?

+++

Jill lay on her bed reading one of Brad’s novels for
the third time.

I’ve almost memorized this book. What if Brad decides
to quit writing?  What  will I do? What if he marries Amy? Brad isn’t like most
men. Most men get married and then think about murder. What if Brad marries Amy
and forgets about murder? What am I to do? Could I ever consider leaving Brad
for another writer of murder mysteries?

+++

Kenny sat in his room deep in thought.

Two sisters. Two sisters. What could be worse? Three
sisters? Four sisters? I must keep dad away from mom. But what could be worse?
Would dad ever consider becoming a den mother for a Brownie troop? Would he
suddenly get an idea to change the world one troop at a time? And what if mom
had to get a job? Would she turn our house into a sorority? Was that what
caused Huckleberry Finn’s dad to start drinking? Could I run away from home? I
can’t even skip school. I’m home-schooled.

+++

Mallory ran around the house, opening doors, looking
at her family.

It’s happened. It’s happened. Everyone else found out
the rapture has happened, and we got left behind. Of course, I know that they
got left behind and God left me to take care  of them. Or could it be the body
snatchers have come and taken away all my family. Could it be that the new
brother’s better? But what if he’s not? Do nursing homes have an age limit?
After all, I expect to run the world by the time I’m thirteen.

+++

Melanie woke up from a terrible nightmare.

Was I dreaming, or did someone really come and take
away all  the  men in the world? I must have been dreaming. Surely, no one
would come and take Harry. Why doesn’t anyone want me? I know I’m beautiful,
but then they say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So, behold me,
somebody. Oh, what’s that by my eye? It wasn’t there yesterday. Could I be
getting wrinkles, or cataracts, maybe?

+++

As usual, Scott arrived at the church on Sunday
morning before any of the congregation. He was not as eager as usual, and the
dark sky and the pouring rain did nothing to improve his attitude. Scott opened
the church door, stepped inside, and shook the water off his umbrella onto the
concrete just outside the door. He turned on the lights and turned up the
thermostat, neither of which seemed to brighten his day. Then, he wandered
around, waiting for the first of his congregation to arrive.

Scott noticed his motley church members stumble into
church. If he had not known better, he would have guessed that each one was a
member of a “helpful” congregation wanting to tell him how he could improve. He
had never seen this group like this. Before he preached, he prayed.