Hitched

40

When Joyce started to regain consciousness, it didn’t take long for her to realize she was not at home sweet home. It wasn’t a bad dream-she was in the same dingy, creepy room she’d found herself in the night before. And she felt as if she’d been asleep for a very long time.

The old lady was sitting in a chair, her head nodding, her hands folded. She was wearing a pair of old black pants covered with animal hair, sneakers, and a brown ratty cardigan. Dogs were stretched out everywhere.

Joyce had a tremendous headache and she was thirsty. She tried to sit up, but the pain across her forehead got worse. I feel so weak, she thought, as she lay back down. One of the dogs lying at her feet woofed halfheartedly then put his head back down.

The old lady’s eyes flew open. She hoisted herself out of the chair and moved toward Joyce.

Joyce felt herself shrink back.

“Good morning,” the woman rasped. “I’m so glad you’re awake! But you had a good night’s rest. That’s so important. Now we can talk. My name is Hattie.”

“I’m Joyce.”

“I’m going to take good care of you. You got some lump there on your forehead. It’s what they call an egg!” Hattie started to cackle, waving her hands with glee. “My dogs, Porgy, Ginger, Pang, and Thor, have been worried about you. You were out cold last night. They all wanted to lick your face when you fell down the steps. Now how about breakfast?”

“My head hurts. I’d better get home.”

Hattie’s face turned dark. “Absolutely not! You have to let me nurse you back to health! My best friend just died. I should have helped her get better. I should have! Now I have to help you.”

“But I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not!” Hattie insisted. “You just said your head hurt.”

Joyce decided to try and placate her. “I’m kind of thirsty,” she said. “Could I please have a glass of water?”

“The water’s kind of rusty. It needs to be boiled. Problem with these old pipes. Why don’t I make you a nice cup of tea?”

“Okay.”

Joyce tried to sit up again, but the effort was too much. “Is my purse around here?”

“Huh?”

“My purse.”

“I didn’t see no purse.”

“It has my cell phone in it.”

“I haven’t heard anything ringing.”

“Could I use your phone?”

“I don’t have a phone. When you got nobody to call, you don’t need a phone.”

“You say that I fell right outside. Would you mind looking to see if my purse is on the ground? It’s black and has a shoulder strap.”

Hattie shrugged. She went over to the front door, which faced the steps that ran up the side of the building to street level, and opened it. A couple of leaves had blown down and landed outside the door, but that was it. Hattie quickly ascended a couple of the steps, turned her head, and peered out. Everything was calm and quiet. Just as quickly she went back inside. She shut the door and locked it. “Nope. No purse. Somebody probably stole it.”

This is crazy, Joyce thought. I’ve got to get out of here. I believe her story. She didn’t kidnap me. I drank too much and got myself into this mess. She’s nothing but a good Samaritan who’s a little nuts. At least I hope that’s all she is. But I’ve got to go home.

Hattie turned on the kettle. A few minutes later she brought Joyce a steaming cup of hot herbal tea. “This will make you feel better,” she said. Her weathered face wore an intense expression. She grabbed a pillow and shoved it down behind Joyce’s head.

Joyce sat up and slowly took a sip of the hot brew. If I weren’t so thirsty, she thought, I’d never drink this. Some of these herbal teas taste awful. As she sipped, she wondered if anyone was looking for her. Francis was who knows where, her mother was on a cruise, but at least Cindy must be worried. I’ve got to let her know I’m okay. All of a sudden a dog started barking ferociously. But it wasn’t one of the four dogs in the room.

“Shut up!” Hattie yelled. “My friend’s dog is in the bedroom. I don’t know what to do with him. He’s big and a little mean. He doesn’t get along with the other dogs.”

“Is he throwing himself against the door?” Joyce asked as a loud thumping noise shook the apartment.

“Yup,” Hattie said. “He hasn’t been feeling good. I think he’s sad that his master died. I’m sad, too. But I don’t know what to do! And he won’t eat his food.”

When Joyce’s eyes started to droop again, she realized she’d made a mistake. I shouldn’t be so tired, she thought. This nutcase must have laced the tea with drugs. Luckily, I didn’t drink too much of it. She put the cup down and fell back asleep.