100 Malicious Little Mysteries

The Big Trip by Elsin Ann Graffam

This was the part of the day that Nancy liked best. Dishes done, place straightened, time to rest in bed, sip a cup of tea, watch TV and have a cigarette.

Being alone wasn’t such a bad thing, she’d come to think. No man to order her around, no children to cause her grief. Just two aloof cats, a small apartment, and her TV. The last of life for which the first was made. She was alone the first part, she’d be alone the last part. And that was fine with her. One thing she had come to treasure was her independence. Other women her age had ties. Not Nancy. Her life was her own, every minute of it, and that was exactly the way she wanted it.

Carefully, frugally, all these years she had saved her money for the Big Trip to Europe. It had become a joke at the office, the extent to which Nancy would go to hang on to her money. Once she had heard June say, “If old Nancy can’t take it with her, then she’s not going!”

Let them laugh, she thought. When they were old, living on a pension, they would remember her — Nancy and her Big Trip Around the World. Yes, let them laugh, they who had no thought for the future, who lived from day to day, spending their money as fast as they got it.

Now she was having the joy of planning the trip, going to travel bureaus on her lunch hour, deciding on the clothes she’d buy. Oh, the countries she’d see! Switzerland, for sure. And Spain, the Netherlands, England, Italy — the world would be hers!

Retirement in two short months — and then the fun would begin! The money was ready, safely tucked away in her mattress, hundreds and hundreds of dollar bills. Just two months to wait!

She shut her eyes, smiling, thinking of the moment she’d get on the airplane, when the Big Trip would finally begin...

“What’s she blabbering about now?”

The other woman shrugged. “Same old thing. How she’s going to go to Europe and see everything. I kinda feel sorry for her, you know?”

“Uh, uh. Don’t go feeling sorry for them, Joan. You gotta harden your heart or you’ll go crazy working here, you should excuse the expression.”

The woman laughed. “Yeah. Anyhow, I guess she’s happy enough. I mean, look at her, off in that dream world of her own.”

“Funny thing about her,” the woman mused. “I was here when they admitted her, ten years ago. Seems she was just as normal as you and me until one night she fell asleep smoking in bed. Neighbors got her and her cats out in time. She wasn’t burned much at all, but by the time the firemen got there, her apartment was ruined, every bit of furniture burned to a cinder. You wouldn’t think that would make someone go insane, would you?”