Photo: Rhen’s home
Bedelia shook her head slowly over the written invitation, pursing her lips; Saturdays she watered her houseplants…she could hardly leave them to their own dry devices while she went off to a Catholic ‘social’.
She tossed the note card aside as her paranoia spun out: ‘Meet and Greet’ …probably trendy code for ‘group therapy’!
If indeed crazy, dysfunctional, she was entitled to remain contentedly so; and anyway, she had nothing appropriate to wear, having given up dressing to successfully impress…a good twenty-odd years ago.
Putting dishes in the sink to wash, her eyes meandered to the gray envelope again; surely it was some kind of trick…who was this stranger that the insistent Father James wanted to introduce to her?
It couldn’t possibly be a man; but she had zero interest in meeting a lonely woman, either…held captive and forced to listen to gallbladder complaints, or nagged to join the choir or flower committee…while holding a plastic cup of sickly sweet punch.
Her plants had been recommended as “therapeutic” by the grocery’s floral department manager—she wiped her hands on a blue-striped cloth, and consulted the green friends in their terracotta pots: “perhaps I could water you a day early…and call Father James…maybe”.
©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.