Editor...
After Ever
I was finishing up a day's work. The last room, I thought was empty.
Its occupant, a woman named Mrs. Mosley
had died. Yet there was another woman
`Miss Beecham'
she declared.
A lovely woman, black strands still visible through snowy hair.
Miss Beecham inquired my name.
`Ella' I replied.
`You're sumthin' special, Ella.' Like we had always been friends.
`We're all special, I s'pose.'
Though I didn't really know. Could've been the medicine talking.
`Naw,' insisting, `You're one of the good ones.'
`That's not the medicine talking.'
I never asked how she knew, we only laughed.
---
Because it began like
The ending of a fairy tale
Happily ever after
Wasn't so happily after all
No horse-drawn carriage
We had to find a way to work
Bus and walk
To pay rent. Gas and electric
Then put food on the table
The castle was a one-room flat and tenant-shared bathroom.
When I got home, he was waiting, reading the newspaper.
Dinner was potatoes and a bit of meat. I listened to how his day
went, hoping he'll make manager one day. But said nothing about the
woman in the last room. M I S S B E E C H A M. Thinking about her
name. Respectable.
That was a shame.
Such a nice woman.
---
On my day off I went by Macy's. I bought perfume and silk knickers,
and had the girl behind the counter put some makeup on me. `Not too
heavy.' I told her, `I want to look like a lady…'
I cleaned the beds in an old-folks home.
That smelled like bleach & glycerin soap. A commune
of eroding memories and prayers left unanswered.
Pulling stained sheets to wash from mattresses with indentations and
mopping gray black speckled floors.
There's a tile next to the nurse's station that has a pretty gold
speck.
The only of its mint.
Special—like my grandmother's slippers.
Satin green & dark fur lining.
She left them to me in her will
---
I finished work a few minutes early. Me and Miss Beecham spoke. `My
prince died in the war' she sighed. `Didn't have time enough to get
married' her dark eyes shining. She asked about the man I had
`Do you love him'
`Sure' I sighed. `He's a salesman.'
He'll make manager one day.
At home
`How was your day?'
Putting away my coat
`Swell,' through the daily news,
`Not far from a promotion.'
I peeled the chronicle away from his face and kissed his cheek
Remembering another conversation with my old friend…
`You're a lady,' she stated.
`A cleaning lady,' I corrected.
`No… A lady.' Always insistent.
`Let no one convince you otherwise.' Pretending to frown.
Pointing with her finger, to make sure I knew she was serious.
---
Wrapping my arms around his neck and kissed his lips,
I was wearing my grandmother's slippers.
I kept my grandmother's fur slippers tissue-wrapped
In a box, tucked in the closet
Behind my prince's work shoes
Didn't think I would ever need them
They were too pretty to throw away…
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