Rhonda, some time the previous fall – day two
After spending the night sipping coffee in a booth in the rear of a twenty-four hour diner in downtown Binghamton, Rhonda has come to a decision. She will leave her mother—along with Howie—and go to live with her grandparents. The dilemma facing her is how she will get there. She empties her purse on the booth table and begins to count. She has a grand total of thirty-three dollars and sixty-two cents, not nearly enough to purchase a ticket to North Carolina. She starts to cry. She can’t stay in Binghamton; it would only be a matter of a day or two before she’d be picked up by the local police and returned to her mother—and Howie. No, she reasons, she can’t let that happen. But, how will she get away?
“Is there something wrong, honey?” It’s the waitress. Rhonda takes a deep breath, scoops up the money from the table, and looks up into the soft brown eyes of the matronly-looking woman standing over her.
“No, I’m okay,” she lies. “I was just thinking about my boyfriend. He shipped out to Afghanistan yesterday.”
“Say no more, honey,” says the waitress, who sits down next to the girl and places a flabby arm around her shoulder. “I’ve got a son in Iraq. Don’t know when I’ll see him again.”
Instantly guilt-ridden, Rhonda begins to cry again, and starts blurting out the truth, rambling on and on for nearly ten minutes—until she runs out of words.
“Look, sweetie,” says the waitress. “What if I could get you a job here…say…like washing dishes or something? You know, keep you in the back where nobody would see you? You could stay at my place. Then, when you’ve got enough saved up, you could get yourself into the city and catch a bus to South Carolina or wherever it is that you say your grandparents are.”
“It’s North Carolina,” giggles Rhonda. “And you would really do that?”
“Sure, honey. Hell, I’ll tell old Nicos that you’re my niece. He’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but he’s got a really good heart.”
“Well, I don’t know. What if—”
“What if nothing,” says the waitress, “I’ll go ask him right now. You just wait here; I’ll be right back.”
“But, I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Glenda. You know, like the good witch in the Wizard of Oz.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, never mind. You just wait right here. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay, it’s all set,” says Glenda. “I talked to Nicos, and he says you can wash dishes. You start tomorrow. It’s minimum wage, but it’s better than nothin’. And it won’t cost you anything to stay at my place. Hell, it’s just as cheap to cook for two as it is for one. ‘Sides, I could use the company.”
Rhonda is elated. “What do I do now?” she asks.
“Well, why don’t you come on in the back there; we got a TV you can watch. Nicos won’t mind—long’s you stay out of the way. Besides, I get off at noon. Then, I’ll take you back to my place. It’ll be fun. You’ll see.”
Rhonda smiles. She can’t help but like the woman. Heck, she thinks, it’d be an adventure. Then, she pictures her mother, and a frown crosses her face.
“What’s wrong, honey?” asks Glenda.
“Oh…I was just thinkin’ of my mom. “She’ll be worried to death. And, that Howie. He’ll probably―”
“Honey, you can’t do nothin’ about that. It’s not your fault. Some people just make bad decisions, that’s all. I have a feelin’ about you. You’ll figure somethin’ out. Don’t worry. What’s most important now is that you get with folks that care about you. We’ve got to see to it that you get to South—I mean North—Carolina, to your grandparents. They’ll know what to do.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Five minutes later, Rhonda is watching an Oprah re-run; thoughts of her mother and Howie are fading memories.
Just after noon, Glenda Watson drives Rhonda to her little place on the outskirts of Binghamton. It’s a rundown, two-bedroom house, which dates back to the early ‘50s. The exterior is a mess, with peeling paint, broken shutters, and overgrown shrubbery that threatens to obscure the windows. The driveway resembles a concrete garden, with individual plants sprouting through cracks too numerous to count. But, Glenda has done a remarkable job of sprucing up the interior, and has actually made the place “homey.” That was how her mother had described each of the countless hovels they had lived in during her childhood in rural Mississippi. To Rhonda, it’s a palace.
“Oh, Glenda, this place is awesome!”
“Well, I don’t know about awesome,” says Glenda, “but it’ll do. And, it’s a ‘rent to buy,’ so one of these days I might actually own the place.”
“Well, I think it’s awesome.”
“Yeah, well, let’s get you situated.” She takes Rhonda by the hand, and leads her to a small bedroom in the back of the house. The walls are papered with a cheerful floral print, and against the far wall is a single bed with a pink ruffled bedspread. Matching curtains adorn the two windows that frame the bed, and a half dozen frilly pillows are piled up against the headboard. It’s like something out of a movie—or a dream. It’s exactly the kind of room that Rhonda has always wanted.
“This’ll be your room,” says Glenda. Rhonda looks at her with a puzzled expression on her face. “And, you can stay as long as you want to,” adds Glenda, as if reading the girl’s mind. Rhonda walks over to the bed, places her hands on its surface, and presses down like she’s seen people do in the movies. “I’ll take it,” she says with a giggle. She turns and plops her fanny down on the mattress, and then just as quickly, jumps back up again.
“Look, honey,” says Glenda. “I may as well tell you right now. I had a daughter of my own. Her name was Daphne, but we just never got along.”
“What happened to her?”
Glenda stares off into space, not saying a word. A tear falls first from one eye, then from the other.
“What’s the matter,” asks Rhonda, “did I say something wrong?”
“No, no, honey,” sniffs Glenda. “It has nothing to do with you. Daphne ran away from home when she was sixteen—just like you—and I never saw her again.”
“Do you have any idea where she is?”
Glenda shakes her head. “I’m hoping that someday she’ll—”
“Come back?”
“I know it’s silly, but―”
“She might,” says Rhonda, her voice full of optimism.
“It’s okay,” says Glenda. “I thought the same thing for a while. But, then eventually I realized that even if she did, it could never be the same.”
“I guess.”
“Hey,” says Glenda, quickly changing the subject, “you must be exhausted. Why don’t you take a nap?”
Rhonda feels as if all the air has come out of her. Not only is she totally spent, but after Glenda’s revelation about her own daughter, she is suddenly acutely aware of the enormity of her situation. “I don’t know what to say, Glenda, I—”
“You don’t have to say a word, honey.”
“I mean, last night, it was like it was the end of the world. And, now…I’m here…and, well…I…” She begins to cry.
Glenda rushes to the sobbing girl, and takes her into her arms. “It’s okay, honey, I know just how you feel. Now you just get yourself some rest, and when you get up, we’ll have ourselves a good talk. Figure out a plan. It’ll be okay. I promise.”
“Yeah,” sighs Rhonda, “I just need some sleep.” She lies down on the bed and in a matter of minutes is sleeping peacefully.
Glenda pulls down the shades, tiptoes out of the room, and closes the door behind her. As she moves off down the hallway, she is filled with a sense of purpose, and is smiling for the first time in many a year.