Stretching My Wings

     As usual, for a Saturday afternoon, I sat and watched the


rain dribble from the tree branches to the wooden swing on


my front porch.  I was looking down from the upstairs reading room


window. My book lay on the table next to me, unopened.  The sky


was grey, but hopeful ivory streaks scattered the sky. The day


was sullen, very drab for early afternoon.  I finally decided to


get up and walk downstairs to the kitchen and put some tea on.


I had a slight cough, due to an unanticipated cold front,


over the last few days.  I sat at the kitchen table looking


through yesterdays mail. Mostly coupons, a catalog from Radio


Shack, and the electric bill.  Just before opening the bill I


decided to stop and wait until next weeks paycheck.


     The kettle whistled, and I retrieved my mug from the dish rack.


Looking through the cabinet, I had rosehip, chamomile, and lemon tea.


I grabbed the box of rosehip and made my cup.  I was sure to add


plenty of honey.  I took my tea into the living room and watched


the street outside.  The view was quite boring.  A squirrel running


damply up a tree, some stray cats in the neighbors garbage can,


and the mail man on his afternoon delivery. Lonely for company


I decided to meet him at the box, hoping he wasn't rushed to get


out of the unfortunate weather.


     "Hi Bob, anything good today?" I asked.


     "Well Sara," he replied, "looks like bills.  Oh and here a


letter, Maybe from the folks?"


     "Um yeah, ah maybe.  That all?"


     "Yeah, um well then, I guess I'll see you tomorrow," he said


as he got back into his jeep.


     "Sure, okay, bye Bob," I waved as he began to drive away.


     I walked back inside rather distracted looking at the


envelope Bob just handed me.  It was definitely not a letter


from my mother.  Her envelopes were always addressed by her


office computer: crisp, black ink.  This was rather faded, and


the return address was a hotel in France.  I put the letter down


on the kitchen table and went to get my teacup.  The room was


filled with mixed scents of jasmine and patchouli.  I had taken


my sandals off near the foyer, and I felt the varying chills from


the cold hard wood floor and the soft woven throw rugs.  I


grabbed the tea and brought it into the kitchen, where I sat


cross-legged in my favorite chair.


     It was my favorite because it was the only one of four I


had gotten around to painting.  It was dark stained wood, like the


floors, with painted green vines twisting up the legs, and flowering


on the seat, and back board. I didn't know anyone in Paris, I


thought.  I checked the mailing address to be sure It was really


to me.  Sarah Lancaster.  I hadn't spelt my name with an 'H' for a


years and found it peculiar to read.


     I liked the stamps, they were decorated with a generic, but


admirable cafe setting. One with patron's sipping wine and


coffee, the other with a woman painting flowers on an easel set


up on the street in front of the coffee shop.  I had never been


to France, but imagined they would be just like these tiny


drawings.  With enthusiasm I opened the letter.





     Sarah,





     Bon Jour.  I'm leaving Paris in a few days.  Heading


     for LA.  The Plane reservations have a two day stop


     over at O'Hara in Chicago.  I called your mother and


     she said you were in Oakgrove, a town not far from


     there.  Maybe an hours drive.  I thought I'd drop in.


     Don't worry about the airport, I'll call for a car.  If


     you don't mind I'd like to stay the night.  Better than


     a hotel, don't you think.  See you Saturday the 17th,


     around 4:00 pm, I'd say.





                                             Ta Ta,





                                             Denise





     Denise Whittiker -- I hadn't seen her since prep school.  As a


matter of fact, I had only kept in touch for the first year or


two of college.  That was over four years ago.  I wonder what


she was doing in Paris -- how exciting.  Then I realized, today was


the 17th!  I looked at my watch, and it glared back 3:45 pm.


What was I going to do I thought!  The house was a mess, dishes


in the sink, paints and brushes all over the table, boxes of


magazines in the hall.  My hair was a mess, and my clothes, I


don't remember Denise ever owning a pair of jeans, much less a


pair splattered with paint and full of holes.  As I started to


run upstairs in hopes to at least change my clothes, the doorbell


rang. "Oh Shit," I muttered, as I simultaneously stubbed my toe,


and begun to hop back down.  I opened the door with agony.





     "Hello, is Sarah in please?  Tell her it is Denise Whittiker


calling." she replied.


     "Come on in Denise." I answered.


     "Excuse me! Is something wrong with you?  Why are you


hopping?"  she asked.


     "I stubbed my toe, answering the door.  How have you been?"


     "Oh my!  Is that you Sarah?"


     "It's been a long time."


     "Well I'd say!  How about a hug hello for an old friend?"


I reached over to hug her.  I could tell she was afraid my


stained sweatshirt would tarnish her new dress suit.  Her hug was


light so I decided to make mine much stronger and put some back


into it.  So what if she smudged her clothes.


     "I just received your letter today.  So your headed to LA?"


     "Why yes, it is for an interview.  I am hoping to get a


staff position with this fashion magazine.  I am very excited.


I'm sorry to come by at such short notice.  I hope it is not any


inconvenience?"


     "Why Denise, of course not.  I would love to have you.


Come, make yourself comfortable.  Have a seat in the living room.


Would you like some tea?"


     "Actually I've come bearing gifts.  Would you like some of


the Parisian's finest?"


     "Uh sure sounds good.  Um Denise."


     "Yes Sarah."


     "I don't have any wine glasses, will these due?"  I held up


two table mugs.


     "Actually, Ceramic I think would not be rather amiable--do


you have any glasses?"


     "Let me look."  I came back into the room, holding two


dinner glasses.  I had found them in the very back of my shelves


and was thankful.


     "Yes, that is better.  An interesting room.  Subleasing the


place?"


     "Well actually, I decorated it myself.  I bought it from a


friend's grandmother.  It was empty when I moved in.  I've fixed


it up quite a bit over the last two or three years." I answered


proudly.


     "How quaint.  I like it, yes, I really do." Denise replied.


     "So, What were you doing in France?" I asked.


      Denise began an elegant soliloquy.  Paris this and Paris


that.  All of the famous designers she had meet.  Her schooling,


and the rich men who often took her to important parties.  I


nodded politely and acted very interested.  She never mentioned


any of the art galleries, or museums I might of been interested


in.  Often she made shrewd comments about the house, or my


clothes.  All in all it went rather well until she mentioned


dinner.


     "Well, actually, Denise, I had planned on eating leftovers


tonight.  Let me see if I have anything in the freezer."  I got


up and went into the kitchen.  I was feeling a slight tipsy from


the wine.  I knew I had nothing that may suffice her appetite,


but I opened the fridge nonetheless.  It was empty as I knew it


would be.  I began to search the cabinets.  I hoped I might find


some spaghetti I could make.  Their were no real restaurants up


to Denise's standard around here.  Mainly pizza places, and


Chinese takeout.  I stood up and saw that she had walked in from


the living room.


     "Sarah, Darling, don't worry yourself with cooking.  We


could just go out for a bite.  Any place you'd recommend in the


neighborhood?"


     "Take out Chinese?"


     "Well, I know of a place called the Melting Pot in the city.


Recommended from the gentlemen sitting next to me on the plane.


Fondue I hear.  We could try that."


     "Well, Denise, Since the campus is only a ten minute walk


from here I don't have a car."


     "Campus, oh, are you still taking classes?"


     "Well I have a few graduate classes left before I get my


masters in Visual Arts.  I'm also teaching a few classes, and


working on a second degree in English."


     "Ahh isn't that wonderful.  Listen, I rented a car to drive


out here, so we can take mine.  You can tell me all about school


on the way.  Why don't you run and get changed.  I'm famished."


     I smiled and walked upstairs.  I had left her in the kitchen.


I knew she must have been eying my chair.  She didn't bring it up.


Not a comment positive or negative.  I had no idea what to wear.


I didn't have to dress nice for class, and what I did have for


dressing up was formal wear.  I decided on a blue print wrap skirt,


and a dark sweater.  I brushed my hair out.  It went nearly to my


waist.  I hadn't washed it today so It did nothing but lie flatly


against my head.  I put on some sandals, the only shoes I had and


went down.  I could tell Denise was not pleased with my attire,


but she didn't complain.


    Denise had brought in only her purse, and after retrieving


it from the living room we were on our way. Instead of talking


about what I was doing these days, Denise reminisced on the old


days at prep school.  These were the times I would just as well


forget. I listened to her stories about all the things we did,


and what crazy kids we were to miss curfew by 30 minutes, and


about the dance when Bobby Hampton spiked the punch, and we all


went home drunk. I didn't like to remember how stuck up we all


were in those days, and I was glad to get to the restaurant.  We


were quickly seated.


     "Can I get you anything to drink Ma'am?" the waitress asked.


     "I'd like some apple juice please," was my reply.


     "I want bottled water with lemon," said Denise.


     "So, If you get this job do you plan on staying in LA?" I


asked.


     "Well, it is optional.  The company has a few European


branches I can choose between.  I do hope I get it as you said.


It's the break I've been looking for."


     "I hope you do also.  It would be a very significant


position for you."


     "I suppose.  It must be nice to do some teaching.  When you


finish your Masters, do you plan on moving to a more prestigious


school, perhaps a nice apartment, or a flat near a city?  You know


I bet It must be a complete bore for you so far from civilization.


I bet it would be a relief to get out of that old house and into


something more modern.  You could have colleagues over for dinner


and such.  Oh how delicious, a simple, yet divine life."


     "Well actually, I though of staying on in Oakgrove.  I love


the school, the campus, and my students." I took a sip of my


drink and waited for her to speak again.  After a few moments,


Denise impatiently began to tap her fingers.


     "I wonder where that waitress is with our salad."  I


shrugged my shoulders, "Have you been here before?" Denise asked.


     "No, One of my student's came for her prom, and recommended


it to me, but I haven't had an occasion to come here, until


now.  I think it will be quite good,"  Denise nodded in


agreement.  The waitress brought our salads, and asked us a few


basic menu questions to better prepare the main course.  We ate


our salad in silence.  I looked around.  It was a really nice


restaurant.  The colors were all earth tones -- very calming I


thought.  When the fondue came, I munched on most of the


vegetables, Denise liked the chicken and fish.


     "So, how's your mother doing?" Denise asked.


     "Pretty good, I guess.  I don't talk to her much.  Did you


talk to her for long?"


     "No not really, she insisted on giving me the directions to


your place though.  You know how she is."


     "Yeah, believe me, I know." I responded, and finished my


food.  The waitress came by to refill your drinks.


     "Will you ladies be having desert tonight." the waitress asked,


     "Yes," Denise answered, then looked my way, "So I guess this is


the rainy season.  Does it make it hard to walk to school?" she asked.


     "Yeah, sometimes.  I don't mind the rain so much, but when


It gets really cold or when we have heavy winds and snow I


carpool," I answered.


     "Do you know a lot of people in your neighborhood?" Denise


asked.


     "Well most of the students live on the other side of campus,


but a few of the other local professors live near me."  I smiled.


"Look I think that's our dessert now."  and it was.


      Our dessert was very delicious.  We had a fruit plate that


was supposed to be dipped in hot melted chocolate.  I liked


strawberry's in dark chocolate, Denise's favorite was the grapes


in white chocolate.  During dessert Denise mentioned that she was


considering staying in town.


     "I was thinking, my plane leaves at 8:00 am tomorrow.  It


might be more convenient if I got a room tonight at the airport


Hilton," she said, and waited for me to respond.  I nodded my


head.


     "At least that way you wouldn't have to make the drive into


Chicago at such a busy hour." I finally answered.


     "My thoughts exactly." Denise added.  "I could call you a


taxi, so you wouldn't have to worry about getting home.  I'm a


little weary from the long trip over."


     "I can imagine." I said.  "The plane ride must have been


rather long?"


     "Yes, seven hours, I believe.  I got some reading in, and we


watched a movie." she answered.


     "Was it good?"


     "What?"


     "The movie?"


     "Oh, I fell asleep," she said and smiled.  The waitress came


to fill our drinks again, and left the check.  Denise paid with


her Visa.


     "Excuse me miss can you please suggest a reliable taxi service


in town, and leave us the number?" She then looked over at me, "I'll


call and have them come and get you.  But I hate for you to have to


ride all that way alone."


     "Don't worry, if I didn't you'd have to ride back to Chicago


alone.  Besides, I won't be driving.  You seem very tired."


     "Yes, well I will put it on my Visa, so you don't have to


worry about having enough cash," she said.  I didn't reply.  The


cab came about fifteen minutes later.  We said our goodbyes in


the lobby.  Denise's hug was firm, mine was more nonchalant.


     "Keep in touch, let me know if you get the job,"  I told her


on the way to the parking lot.


     "Oh, of course, and you let me know when you graduate.  Good


luck."


     "Good luck to you too."


     The cab ride home was very lonely.  I missed Denise's


gabbing about the French.  I didn't know I could be made to feel


so insecure about myself.  I watched the other cars go by.  It


was still raining outside.  I had made some important discoveries


that evening, I thought to myself.  In the distance I saw some


trees swaying in the wind.  The traffic lights looked foggy in


the evening mist.  Soon we were off the highway, much closer to


my house.  I looked down the side streets, daydreaming.  I


remembered the early morning rain of that day, and looking out


side.  I had seen a bird's nest in one of my trees.  I hadn't


noticed it before today.  Their were two chicks, I remembered,


both seemed scared to face the world but the mother bird pushed


them from her brow anyway, and in different directions they fell.


At the last moment they began to sour into the morning air.