Short Story, Little Things
This post includes a short story I wrote during the first part of quarantine. At the beginning of March we were all ordered to stay at home for a period of weeks to delay the spread of Covid-19. I was becoming fearful of the mundane and felt a nagging distain for the circumstances we were in. I didn’t want to homeschool my children and I was saddened our lack of interaction with others in the world. This story came as an attempt to convince myself that what I was doing mattered. The mundane of my life mattered. The minutia mattered. It all mattered to God.
The characters in this story are flawed. One is at the end of her life, looking back on all the choices she made while the other feels trapped in a life she feels she did not choose. My prayer is you will read this and feel relieved that God takes pleasure in the ways we serve Him, no matter how small they may feel in the moment. I hope you enjoy it and find hope in it.
Little Things Meghan Newkirk
Her name was Chanel, but the odor of White Diamonds perfume and essential oils lingered around her instead of the high dollar fragrance she was named after. At ninety years old, her hair was smooth and white while her skin was soft like a peach. Legally blind since seventy-two years old Chanel greeted and socialized with anyone she came in contact with at Two Acres retirement home where she lived.
“Mornin’ Monte! How’d you sleep last night? I said, MORNIN’ MONTE!” she yelled at a shriveled old man dressed in aged overalls as she scooted her way to breakfast by herself. She was forced to wear her bubblegum colored polka dot pajamas instead of a tailored pair of slacks and silk blouse because her nursing aid was late, per the usual.
Chanel’s tiny apartment smelled like an antique dresser mixed with a smidge of mothballs. She never wanted for much in life because she came from old money and the patriarch ensured her trust fund was full so she never went without. The money her father saved for his only child was enough to keep her well taken care of, far into old age.
Her one bedroom apartment down the hall had white drab walls, but the flashy colors from her collected tchotchkes transformed the room from bland to designer. Full length gold chiffon curtains hung from the standard sized windows revealing views of a parking lot overflowing with outdated and undriven Buicks.
Back in the hallway, fuzz from her faux fur rug fell off the wheels of her well-traveled walker as she rolled along to the cafeteria. Patricia, one of the nurses, followed behind her picking up the fibers it left in an almost patterned trail. People who worked at Two Acres would frequently call her, ‘The Happy Old Lady,’ which was a title she gloated about and proudly tried to emulate.
“Who’s following behind me? Is that you Patricia? Am I leaving my usual trail again?” Chanel turned her head slightly in an attempt to look behind her.
“I do miss the days of being able to bend and turn easily. I also miss being able to pick up after myself,” she grumbled. The cafeteria reeked everyday of coffee and fish sticks, no matter what was on the menu. Carnations of red, white, and blue nestled together in Mason jars on every table, fashionably welcoming the elderly to what may or may not be the last meal of their lives.
Chanel was born with a joyful spirit and it gracefully carried her into old age. She didn’t resent fate or God for her lack of sight nor did she relish too much in her challenges. She woke each morning and deliberately chose to accept her life.
“Mary? Is that you? I’m glad you could be with me again today. Happy Friday.” Chanel spoke the words in front of her as Mary settled in beside her at the dining table. Mary hadn’t even said anything, but Chanel felt her creep in without a sound.
Mary Taylor worked for Chanel as an aid every day of the week but Saturday. Unlike Chanel, choosing to be joyful was an imposition for Mary. She often came to work exhausted and unrecovered from a tiresome day and from too much wine the night before. Mary thought old people smelled like bad breath and stinky soap all rolled into one. She hated her job and sometimes she thought it might be possible she also hated Miss Chanel.
Mary was plain and unremarkable looking with dusty brown, pin straight hair and muted, almost grey, colored eyes. She walked with slumped shoulders, heavy with burdens and felt nothing made her memorable or important in the world anymore. She worked more than sixty hours a week only to barely put food on the table and keep her electricity running.
“Yes, I’m here. Sorry I’m late,” Mary said flatly. Mary wasn’t late for any good reason. She had been sitting alone in her parked car mentally preparing herself for something big.
“I have a busy day. Lots of socializing. I hope my daughter Dianne comes to visit today. I sure could use her company.” Chanel nibbled the bacon Mary put in her hand. Mary often wondered who Chanel was talking to. Surely Chanel must detect by her silence she didn’t care about what she blathered on about. Yet the old lady continued to fill the blissful silence with noise.
“Sounds fun.” Mary rolled her eyes then stopped, feeling exposed when she noticed the mopping custodian in the corner staring at her. She forced half smile at him to convince him she wasn’t nearly as awful a person as her displayed disgust implied.
Mary came to work with a plan to make all things right. She was going to even up the score and make her life matter again. She clenched her teeth together tightly, causing pain to jolt through the upper part of her jaw. The intensity of the pain was a sweet reminder that today was the day she was going to take the power back and own her choices again.
After breakfast Chanel’s apartment felt like a greenhouse to Mary, hot and humid even in the beginning of summer. She fanned herself and turned down the air conditioning quietly while Chanel listened to the radio that blasted like a jet engine. Mary wore jeans with strategically cut holes in the knees paired with a mint green scrubs top. Her shoes were Keds, mostly stark white but stained with clay dirt all around the sole and a few grass marks on the toes. Nothing in her life was squeaky clean so her shoes could be no different. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun while straggly strands hung down past her ears onto her deflated shoulders. Little bits of dandruff sat comfortably on her greasy sideburns; every so often a flake fell onto her shirt. Mary had no events to dress up for, so she opted never to wear any jewelry to work, not even the delicate pearl earrings her ex-boyfriend had given her that she secretly still adored wearing in quiet protest of her pathetic existence. Mary was blind to good things that showed up on her plate.
“Could you turn up that air conditioning, Mary? It feels positively arctic here!” Chanel yelled out from the green leather suede couch where she sat like a matriarch on her throne.
Mary sighed with irritation as she got up to change the temperature back, but then decided to leave it as it was in silent protest of the request.
“What’s the date today, Mary? I only ask because I thought your anniversary of coming to work for me was coming up sometime soon. I remember you started working for me when the flowers were first blooming last spring,” Chanel picked at her nails and rubbed her cuticles as Mary dutifully sorted her mail.
“It’s May thirteenth ma’am and yes, today is the anniversary. I started working for you a year ago today. You are correct.” Her voice stayed steady and unimpressed. Mary felt no flicker of nostalgia regarding her employment, but instead felt a wave of pity for herself.
“Well, what a great day for my daughter to come celebrate with us! She will love being able to eat a slice of cake with us in honor of my best employee,” Chanel said. She squeezed her hands into excited balls and shook them at her chest with glee. Mary cringed in hatred at the mention of her daughter. Mary felt Dianne was constantly trying to rub her good fortune in Mary’s face by talking about all she had, wanted, or was going to get.
“Fantastic.”
Mary closed her eyes tight and mustered the courage to finally dig deep and take what life should’ve given her to start with: the three-carat diamond ring that sat unused, unadmired, and unwanted in the hand carved, wooden jewelry box beside Chanel’s bed. In the 365 days that Mary had worked for Chanel, she had never worn it and only spoke about it being too heavy, too expensive, and “not her style.” Plus, Chanel was blind and couldn’t even see the darn thing anymore, so she wouldn’t miss it if it was gone. How any person could come to resent a magnificent ring like that one seemed impossible to Mary.
The ring was the definition of perfection — a dazzling princess cut three carat diamond sat high on four confident prongs of twenty-four carat gold, surrounded by six smaller round cut diamonds, likely three-quarter carats apiece. The diamonds radiated light in slices and slivers causing rainbow patterns to appear on the walls with shimmering grace. Mary knew this because she tried the ring on once when she felt particularly brave, and initially thought the ring felt heavy and stiff to her chubby unpracticed hands. After a few moments, Mary felt the ring begin to mold to her finger in an intimate way, slowly becoming a glittery addition to her calloused hand. She’d pretended to be at an important debutante party, flinging her hand here and there while greeting her imaginary guests. She would someday become the most generous hostess, only flaunting her ring to those who didn’t appreciate the value of such spectacular creations.
Mary was tired of being preached to that God loved everyone the same and that His love was enough to carry anyone through turmoil. God never helped her, as far as she could tell. Her life was peppered with sour relationships, overwhelming debt, and bitter disappointments that left her empty and raw inside. Mary came to see that Miss Chanel was far from perfect, yet fate insisted on giving her everything she ever wanted, and then some.
Mary planned to steal the coveted ring while Dianne was visiting with her mom at lunchtime in the cafeteria that afternoon. The two would become so focused when discussing who was marrying who amongst Dianne’s friend group and all the different ways Dianne’s husband made millions of dollars this week, that Mary figured she could slip back to the apartment and into the bedroom while they were at the cafeteria choking down fish sticks. She’d sneak the ring into her pocket without anyone ever noticing. It was the perfect plan.
“Hello Mother.” Dianne peeked her head around the Christmas wreath that still hung on the front door. Mary hated how Dianne called her “Mother,” like she was some kind of irreplaceable queen.
“My, it’s hot in here Mother. Why don’t you have Mary turn the air conditioning down?” She took off her light cream boutique sweater as she gracefully sat next to her mom.
“You think it’s hot in here? Mary, why didn’t you tell me it was hot in here? Please, Mary, do turn down the air conditioning. I am not looking to start my own sauna around here, to be sure. Mary? Did you hear me?” Chanel spoke in the direction of the radio with her eyes batting rapidly in rhythm. She paused intentionally, chin angled up, waiting for Mary to answer.
“I heard you ma’am. I will turn the air down for you.” She growled softly for a moment to herself, by how much Dianne had to much say about the way her mother’s home operated. Mary felt like a volcano on the inside, hot with resentful lava about to erupt and spill over onto the barren landscapes of her life.
The two women cackled and chatted together on the couch for what seemed like hours as Mary dutifully spruced up the kitchen. She scrubbed crusted food off of the crystal plates Chanel insisted on using, wiped up tiny crumbs from the counters, and set out a trail of ant bait for the onslaught of ants that were attacking the honey jar. Not once did the women include her, the simple minded and poor Mary. No, these superficial women saw the world through money colored lenses; anyone who was unequal was invisible. It didn’t matter that Chanel was blind. She would never have actually seen Mary anyway.
“Mary? Where are you? Dianne and I would like to get lunch and would love for you to join us. Would you be able to come grab a bite with us?” Chanel jabbered into the air as she tilted her head in the direction she thought Mary was.
“I will be happy to assist my mother as she eats today so you can get a little break.” Dianne said as she shuffled around in her purse and then pulled out her lipstick. Mary debated and contemplated the honesty of their motives. If she went with them, she’d have to delay her evil scheme, but she also didn’t want to raise suspicions.
“I would enjoy that. Thank you for including me.” Mary bowed slightly as she twisted the kitchen towel in her hand. She worked hard to keep her personality concealed while at work so no one would see her rough edges and scars. Mary muddled her way to the hallway with the kitchen trash when she noticed the same custodian from the dining room now standing awkwardly by the door with his cart.
“Good noontime, ma’am,” he spoke slowly with a distinct southern drawl. The stranger, in his late fifties, wore white coveralls dotted with paint splotches, dirt, and grime. His jet black hair was parted neatly to the left and slicked back in two greasy rows. Mary mentally noted that he was handsome or had been at one time in his life. His smile made Mary uncomfortable because it looked positively genuine.
“Uh, good, uh, noontime to you too, I think.” Mary looked down the hall to check to see if anyone else was around.
“Time creeps by slow as molasses in this place sometimes, so I like to keep track of the time as specifically as I can. When the day is halfway done I like to make note of it, otherwise it just feels like it’ll stay mornin’ forever. This place is a time warp.” He laughed to himself as he finally took the heavy trash bag from Mary.
“Thank you. Yes, it certainly is.” Mary nodded her head in agreement.
“Nice to meet you. The name is Truman. I noticed you this morning during breakfast for the first time. How long have you been working here?” He gazed at Mary with crooked eyebrows.
“I’ve worked here for a year to the day actually. I’m surprised you’ve never seen me because I feel like I’m here all the gosh darn time.” She felt a twinge of sadness at the reality that she’d gone unnoticed.
“Well congrats. That’s quite an accomplishment. Remember, even the little things in life matter.” His words rolled off his shoulder as he and his cart mysteriously disappeared around the corner. The lights in the hallway flickered when she realized she was still standing in the same spot long after he was gone.
“Are you ready for lunch now, Mary? I’ve taken Mother to the bathroom so you don’t have to. Let me know when you’re ready to get going to the cafeteria.” Dianne touched Mary on the shoulder lightly as not to startle her. She sensed Mary was in a momentary trance for whatever reason and didn’t want to surprise her.
“Um, yes, I’m ready whenever y’all are.” Mary shook her head to snap herself back to reality. She didn’t know why the comment Truman chose to exit with had sent her into such a contemplative head space.
The two able bodied young women escorted the feeble and delicate debutant down the aging hallways to the cafeteria.
“Good afternoon Monte. MONTE!” Chanel shouted again towards the dazed farmer who sat in the same spot he had that morning. She knew her routine and counted her steps to Monte so she could greet him on demand each day, no matter the hour.
“Mother, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t think he’s all there. He looks like he’s a little unaware of his surroundings,” Dianne whispered into her mother’s ear.
“Oh I know, but I figure I can’t see, but I sure would love it if people tried to wave at me anyways. No human being wants to go forgotten or unloved. So I’ll keep shouting my hellos at Monte so he can hear me wherever he may be right now.”
Mary stared at the elderly gentleman, studying the way his hat sat far too high up on his forehead. His chin rested gently on his collarbone, causing his skin to roll on itself in distinct ripples. His arms were crossed over his body in the same way they would if he was in a deep discussion with someone. She wondered why Chanel insisted on speaking to him each day without any return response. She also wondered how she’d never thought about him before Dianne brought it up.
The entourage slowly rounded the corner into the cafeteria when Chanel spun her walker around with force toward Mary and shouted, “Surprise!”
“What? What’s going on?” Mary said, stunned. She was so focused on the farmer from the bench she failed to see the large display of balloons and cake that sat at Chanel’s usual table.
“I wanted to say Happy Anniversary, Mary! You’ve officially tolerated me for a whole year now and I want to say thank you with more than just the words. So, here’s my sad attempt to do just that! This is my way of saying thank you!” Chanel held her thin arms open wide.
“Is she excited? Does she look excited Dianne?” Chanel whispered out of the side of her mouth to her daughter.
“I think she’s surprised, Mother. We may want to give her a minute to let it sink in.”
Mary snapped out of her initial shock to notice all the accolade. There were a dozen pink roses on the table, a double chocolate cupcake (Mary’s favorite), and a gaudy bunch of balloons flying high above one of the chairs at the table.
“I’m, um, well, I’m speechless. Thank you for all this, really.” Mary wiped some fresh sweat from her forehead.
“Come and sit. Let’s have some lunch. I’ve ordered salads for the three of us.” Chanel felt the top of the chair and sat.
Mary was full to the brim with mixed emotions. This woman whom she thought she hated had chosen to celebrate her, albeit in a flashy and public way, which would not have her first choice, but a celebration nonetheless. The image of the coveted diamond flashed in her mind as the salads came to the table, causing her to swallow hard.
“How’s your family, Mary?” Dianne asked as she crunched on her salad.
“My family is good. You know, the usual ups and downs.” Mary rubbed the back of her neck. She couldn’t remember when Dianne talked to her about anything other than what she needed from her. The jealousy started to burn again as justified fury while Mary nibbled her salad. Suddenly Mary noticed Truman in the corner of the cafeteria sweeping under one of the nearby tables. He gestured with his head for her to come over to him in the same way a spy might signal his partner in a movie. She pointed to herself to be sure he was looking at her and he nodded with his eyes raised in affirmation. She rose slowly with her tray in hand and made her way over to the trash can close to him.
“Quite a nice shindig Miss Chanel got going for you today, don’t you think?” His voice was soft and breathy.
“I guess. I mean, yeah, it’s nice of her to do this for me I think.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes.
“I remember when I was a young boy, I had the habit of fixing my granddaddy’s coffee for him every morning. I grew up in the country here in North Carolina and tobacco my family grew tobacco, so the hours were early and long for all of us. I was the youngest, always following in line behind my two older brothers, Earl and Dave.” Truman leaned on his broom casually.
“I may have to” Mary began.
“I was a good little boy, fixing my granddaddy his coffee in a chipped red NC State mug. I would pour the coffee in the mug right when I heard him coming down the stairs, about ten minutes or so after the infamous rooster crowed. He never said thank you, not once. He’d take the mug, give me a pat on the head and be on his way. I used to feel frustrated with my big brothers at times because they got so much more praise than I ever did. They were tending to the farm with him and showing their muscles, while all I could do as a five year old boy was pour his coffee. My granddaddy died in a tractor accident when I was seven, so I never did get to help him on the farm and show him what I was made of like I’d hoped. And I didn’t get to hear him tell me thank you, either, like I’d wished.” He shook his head resting his head on the broom. Mary found herself stepping closer to him as he spoke.
“My Mama was goin’ through his things one day when I was a teenager and handed me that mug. She told me that my granddaddy would want me to have it. I asked her why, and she said it could serve to remind me that even little things, like hot cups of coffee, mattered. So you see, ma’am, our actions are so much more important than we could begin to realize. I get the feeling you need to hear that e’ry so often, which I could be wrong but seeing those tears in your eyes make me think I’m right.” He ended his story with a sigh. Mary nodded, then wiped the tears with the end of her sleeve.
“Now go on and enjoy your party. Miss Chanel is trying to say something to you, so try to listen and hear what that is.” He patted her back before walking away.
Mary took a moment to compose herself before returning to the table. Her mind was suspended in midair, floating as it grasped to make sense of how this man knew so intimately what she was feeling about her life. She felt ripped off in life, cheated of the normal blessings other so frequently received. Mary felt herself losing the nerve to steal the diamond as newfound guilt set in.
Dianne waved her back over to the table, signaling that it was time to head back because Chanel was tired. She sucked in air through her teeth to calm herself as she meandered her way to them.
“I think Mother is tired, Mary. Would you mind cleaning up the dishes and taking her back to her room? I’ve got to get back to work and don’t really have time to help. Thanks so much. I really can’t miss more work today. You understand, I’m sure.” Dianne had already begun handing Mary dirty plates.
“Sure, absolutely. Have a great rest of the day.” She and Chanel made their way back to the room as Mary carried all her spoils from the party haphazardly in her arms. As she juggled the balloons, flowers, cake plate, and the leftovers, Mary felt angry the lava in her core return. Party or not, nothing had changed. She was stuck back where she had always been, dutifully serving someone who had everything she never would.
“Would you like to take a rest on the couch, Miss Chanel?” Mary asked as she helped her get settled on the couch.
“I think that would be lovely. I forget sometimes that I am an old lady who needs to remember her limits.” She suddenly grabbed Mary by the hand as she covered her with a blanket. Mary startled and stared at her blankly.
“Do you have anything you like to do for yourself Mary? You spend so much time here with me, working away. What do you like to do that’s fun for you?” Mary stood hunched over, speechless at the question.
“Oh, you know, I do a little of this and that. I don’t have any real hobbies, I guess.” Her voice cracked through her whisper.
“Don’t ever forget who you are Mary.” Her eyes drooped into sleep as her words floated out.
“What do you mean Miss Chanel?” Mary asked.
“Don’t forget you’re a…a daughter of the king.” As she heard the last word Chanel was already asleep. Mary felt like she’d been slapped in the face and kissed at the very same time. She knelt down next to Chanel and wept secretly. She sniffed in her mucus with one purposeful breath and stood up slowly. She knew she had to get moving if she was going to finish what she’d started that day and finally take the diamond. Mary tiptoed her way into the bedroom, made her way to the jewelry box, and opened it in slow motion. The diamond glistened for only a moment until the shadow from Mary’s fingers moved closer to it as she attempted to pick it up. She hesitated and hovered her hand over the ring for what felt like an eternity. Something inside kept her from taking ownership. She was stalled in the potential infraction, uncertain of how to move forward. The words she’d heard swirled violently in her mind and raged a new war in her heart. Could God really see her?
Her hand moved up and down like a yo-yo as the debate roared inside her conscience. What usually felt dead was suddenly awakened and tender. A shiver ran down her spine as screams echoed through the apartment. Mary thought they were her own until she realized they were coming from the living room. She slammed the jewelry box lid closed in a panic and bolted to the room.
“What’s going on?” Mary yelled.
“Help, Mary! It’s Mother! Push the 911 button!” Dianne screamed as she knelt down next to Chanel.
“What’s the matter?” Mary ran to the kitchen to push the emergency button by the front door.
“She’s dead,” Dianne said with a sob.
Mary stood, frozen in time, tears vibrating in her lower eye lids until the ambulance arrived.
***
The sun set gently beneath the clouds the night Chanel died as though it had given up on that side of the world.
“I came back because I realized I had forgotten to give her some important papers. I’m so glad I did. Mary, thank you for staying through all this. I know this must be difficult for you, being that you were here with her when it happened. I hope you don’t blame yourself.” Dianne’s voice trembled.
“No, I don’t think I feel guilty. I mean, I feel bad I wasn’t in here with her, ya know, when she went into the light. But I was busy, um, cleaning up her bathroom, so yeah, I didn’t hear any sounds of distress or anything,” Mary rubbed her lips and nose to cover her face.
“Well, I know my mother appreciated you very much. She felt you were an asset to her, especially when you did things she knew were not pleasant for you.” She reached for Mary’s hand as she spoke, causing her to flinch.
“I returned here after lunch today to give a very important document to my mother. It was her will.” Mary bristled.
“My mother told me a story once about you. She said the first week you worked here she noticed you would often go into her room and open her wooden jewelry box.” Dianne let go of Marys’ hand to cross her arms.
“She heard you quietly opening and closing the lid of her box throughout the day. She figured you were looking at the diamond ring my father gave to her. She also told me she was certain you were sad about your life. I argued with her at the time since she had only just met you, but she insisted she knew it was true because of how you worked in solitude, as though you were alone, even though she was with you every day.” Tears began to form as Dianne spoke of her dead mother’s former words.
“I don’t know if what she said is true or not, Mary, if you are or aren’t actually content with your life. But I do know that Mother heard you open that box multiple times a day. She heard you.” Mary could no longer feel her feet. Her knees locked in place and she began to sway in fear and tingling with adrenaline.
“She saw you Mary. My mother was blind but she saw you.” Dianne pulled a piece of paper out from the file she held in her hands. Mary flinched as she handed it to her.
“In her will my mother left you that diamond ring. She wanted you to have it. She asked me if I wanted it; I refused. I’m sad to see it go, but I know you will cherish it. I don’t understand why she felt such a strong desire to give it to you, but I do know that when my mother saw someone, she saw them deeply and truly. She also insisted you take the jewelry box with it. Whenever you feel at peace leaving here tonight, please take it home with you. It was what she wanted. Goodbye, Mary. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
