Homeless, part two

Leta had no plan. She had no focus. She only knew that she did what she had to do. After they arrived home from school, she took her beloved children Vivian and Dale to live with their father. She could see no alternative. Their living situation had become unbearable—for all of them. Her marriage to Leech Hoose was a disaster, and she wanted nothing more than to be rid of him. Unfortunately, leaving him meant that she could no longer provide for her children. She had tried before, when she left the man to whom she was married before she married Leech. When she left that man, she and the children moved into a garret, where they lived on toast, oatmeal and eggs, and she wondered from day-to-day if she would be able to remain in the place. Leech was supposed to be their rescuer. He had a good job. He had a home for them. He seemed to care for her.

But he didn’t, at least not in the ways that she needed him to, so she left him. In doing so, she had to transfer the upbringing and care of her children to their father, a man for whom she had little respect. After leaving them, her heart broke, causing her entire body to ache. In a near delirium from the hurt, she wandered for a short time before ending up in this drinking establishment. It was dark and dingy. She was not in the most reputable of places, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She simply wanted all this debilitating grief to go away.

By her third drink, Leta was starting to forget, not forget exactly, but feel the vexation of her situation and her decisions seem less overpowering. The conflict and confusion was still there, but as more of a memory than a current state of being.

Gradually more patrons had arrived, and the drinking establishment was becoming more lively. Being one of few women, Leta began drawing attention, and after her second whiskey, which she had nursed slowly as the server encouraged, she no longer was responsible for paying for her own drinks.

Her first drink was paid for by a rather unpleasant individual, who presumed she was a prostitute. He was obviously married; he kept looking at his watch. He was also impatient, fidgeting as she slowly sipped her drink. She asked him first about his frequency at the saloon. He responded shortly. Then she asked him about his employment, and he recoiled.

“Look, Miss,” he sputtered, “I just want a quick roll in the hay. Are you game or not?”

Leta was still sober enough to understand what he meant and glared at him.

“I got a little money, but I ain’t got much time,” he continued.

“I beg your pardon?” she snapped. “I am not that kind of woman!”

The man was obviously surprised, and then angry.

“Then what the hell are you doing here? Alone?” he snarled. “A decent woman would never spend her time in this kind of place.”

Leta calmly turned away. She was in no mood to be talked to in such a way. If she wanted to be disrespected and degraded, she would be at home with her husband.

Exasperated, the man paid for the drinks and left. A moment later, realizing she was alone before she knew she was alone, her grief gripped her once again. Instead of nursing what remained of her whiskey, she gulped it down in one swallow.

“Hey, now, little lady, that was one powerful sip.”

To be continued.