Passing the Time

Leta never counted them--the number of beers that she drank in an evening or afternoon. She would buy a case of 12 bottles, store them in her refrigerator, and then enjoy them, one at a time, until she no longer was thirsty, or she felt comfortable. She would sit on the corner of her sofa, enjoy the beer and smoke her Pall Malls.

Somehow the time flew by. She liked that. If it was still early enough, if she started her repast in the afternoon and she was hungry, she would prepare dinner for herself.  Usually this was something simple. Unless she had a craving for a roast or steak, she would eat some soup and crackers or even eggs. When she was younger, if anyone had told her that she would one day eat eggs for supper, she would have scoffed. After all, eggs were a breakfast food. Here she was now, however, a widow living alone who wanted something quick and easy for supper, dining on eggs and toast at six in the evening, or sometimes later, depending on when she became hungry—or if she became hungry. Many times she simply went to bed. Some nights she would simply pull the afghan over her and sleep on the sofa.

At least once a month, she made meatloaf. It was a recipe that she had for a long time. She didn’t remember where she acquired it, but she thought it was a delicious. The recipe called for a combination of ground beef and pork. Her daughter Vivian made the recipe frequently, because her husband liked it very much. She would make a full loaf, enough for a family, and then have meatloaf sandwiches or reheat a piece with gravy for a few days afterward. Some nights she would just have two pieces of toast and jam. She liked toast. She could eat toast at any time of day. She still made her own jam—raspberry or peach.

This was how she spent her days as an older widow with time on her hands. But she wasn’t a widow exactly. While she was the widow of two men—Robert Fields and her beloved Albert Mohr—she had actually divorced her most recent husband. His name was Claud Bassett, and she could hardly bring herself to say it. He was a devilish human being, who lied to her over and over again, stole money from her and brought her to this. She was living in a small apartment, because that was all she could afford. When they married, she was the widow of Bob Fields, who had a decent savings, but that was all gone now. The villain she could not name drank and gambled it all away. Eventually, she would need to acquire some form of employment, simply to support herself.

She also wasn’t old exactly, although she thought of herself as old—nearly 60 years, but she was still the youngest of six children, all but one of whom were still alive. Her oldest brother Aaron had died of cancer only a few years earlier, and his wife Florence, her best friend, had remarried. This situation gradually reduced their previously almost daily communications.

In the meantime, this was how she was biding her time. This was an uneasy way of living for her.

Still, at this state in life, Leta was not sure where she was headed next.  She wasn’t entirely alone. She spent time with her daughter and son, both married with families. She spent time with her sisters Nellie and Louise who lived nearby. She went to church on Sundays and helped with funerals or other occasions. However, she spent many days drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and passing the time.