Tapestry

“And now the final door prize goes to …”, the principal said to the parents assembled in the small auditorium. “Mothers, will you stand please?” I was already standing in the back because I had arrived so late so I shot my hand up just as a lady in a funny hat spring from her chair. “The first mother I saw stand was you in the strange little hat. Come on up and get your prize. And thank you, parents for coming out to support our seniors. Please exit the building swiftly as we have the 11th grade assembly in about 30 minutes.”

My daughter, Tova, her friend Eden and I walked to my car. We passed a lady walking very slowly with an elderly woman singing, “find a nice sedan, to rest a little can…” I smiled and thought, how sweet. I smiled at my daughter and told her, “that’s gonna be us in about 70 years.” We laughed and I unlocked the car, when I noticed a bell pepper bush nearby with lots of ripe fruit on it. The girls and I stopped to pick a few. It’s a new city project. Instead of planting trees and bushes for beauty alone, they began to plant fruit bearing trees and bushes, and the residents are free to harvest what they need. It’s truly a blessing to the poor and the homeless. Of course the program received resistance from some farmers and marketers at its beginning but the people who benefit most from this project are the ones who couldn’t afford to buy fruit and vegetables in the first place. Those who are buying them still are buying because some of them rather the convenience of buying, and others wouldn’t be caught dead living off the county, in any way. So life goes on.

As I was saying, Eden, Tova and I were distracted for a few minutes with the bell pepper bushes and when we turned to enter the car there was the elderly woman sitting very properly in the backseat of my car humming the tune of the little ditty the younger lady was singing. “What the! Ma’am are you lost?“ I asked the lady as I looked around for the woman I thought was her daughter. I noticed her power walking down the street. “Hey!” I yell, “what’s the meaning of this?“

“She’s your problem now!“ She yelled back. “Someone left her in my car last month and I just can’t take care of her any longer. If you don’t want her, find an open car and leave her there. Give her a sedan to rest a little can,“ she yelled as she got into her car and sped off. “Well I’ll be!” I exclaimed.

“That’s awful! What are we gonna do mama?“ Tova asked and I had no idea. Part of me wanted to find another car and leave her, but almost everyone had already left, and that’s just wrong on so many levels. “I guess she’s going home with us, Tova.” I said as I looked into the sad glossy eyes of the little old lady. She is a beautiful, honey brown color with very smooth skin. She had a few wrinkles, just a couple of crows feet at the corner of her eyes and a single laugh line on each side of her mouth. Her straight fully silver hair was pulled back into a thin little bun. She seems to be about 5’2” and maybe 120 pounds. She sat in the backseat of my car with her hands folded neatly on her lap and a tapestry print handbag set between her and her worn suitcase. I looked at her and thought, she looks like she just stepped out of a scene from a black-and-white classic movie.

“Well ma’am would you like to spend the night with us?“ I asked and she smiled and nodded her head. It was such a sweet comforting smile I couldn’t help but smile back at her. “Come on girls get into the car and buckle up. Would you mind if I put your bag in the trunk so Eden can have a place to sit? My car is so small.” She smiled and nodded. “Oh I’ll do it, Ms. Tash,“ Eden said, and quickly put the bag in the trunk and got into the car. The little lady was so quiet I was beginning to wonder, “can you talk ma’am?“ I asked uncomfortably while looking at her through the rearview mirror. She nodded once again. “Oh good. By the way, I’m Tash and this is my daughter Tova and her best friend Eden.“ The lady smiled and nodded at each of them as their names were called. “And you are?“ I asked after a moment, realizing she wasn’t preparing to introduce herself. “I’m Opal.” She said in a small shaky voice.

I opened the door to our apartment, and asked Tova, who was escorting Miss Opal by her elbow, to show her to the extra bedroom. I washed the bell peppers in the sink and turned just in time to see Tova and Eden giving her a tour of our little home. When they made it to the kitchen, I asked, “Miss Opal, do you like chicken?“

She smiled and nodded as she settled down in the kitchen chair. “Would you like me to help you cook?“ Miss Opal asked. “Yes dear, that would be lovely. You can slice the bell peppers and onions while I get the gravy started. Tova and Eden placed the vegetables, a knife and cutting board in front of our guest.

As she began to slice through the vegetables, I asked, “What is going on Miss Opal? Why do you seem to be living from home to home being deposited in open cars?”

“Well,” she began, “it all started when my husband of 52 years died. I was forced to go live with my daughter and her husband. I lived with them for five years until six month after my daughter lost her battle with cancer. That was when my son-in-law told me that I’d have to go stay with a friend until he got himself together and he’d come back for me. He drove me downtown and put me in the backseat of a car and told me his friend was getting off work in about 30 minutes and would take me home with him. Little did I know, my son-in-law didn’t know the owner of the car. She was a large woman who owned many cats. She didn’t want me but saw an opportunity to have someone clean her nasty house. I had no place else to go so I lived with her for two years cleaning up behind her and her cats. I cooked her dinner and did whatever was necessary to keep a roof over my head. Eventually, as I got older I wasn’t able to do everything I had done in the beginning of my stay there. This is when the song you heard began. Over the last three years, since my daughter’s death, I’ve been left in twelve cars and lived in five different homes. I will be 90 years old on February 14 and at the turn of every birthday my only wish is to not see another year.“

“Miss Opal,“ Tova said with tears rolling down her cheeks, “that has to be an awful way to live.”

“Oh dear,“ Miss Opal said, “ I didn’t mean to upset you so. I only told you my story to let you know that it’s OK if you want to leave me in another car.“

“ Well Miss Opal,“ I said, “one thing I know for sure is that you have a place to stay tonight.“