RED SOX: You gotta believe, again!
JUST SPANKED
by Phair
Ash was busy waiting tables but she still noticed Mr. Deming’s concerned glances. They didn’t have a chance to talk before the first customer showed for breakfast. Ash was almost late for work because she overslept. The long trip to and from the coast for the Scholarship conference plus the stress of the whole event left her exhausted. Still, she was grinning. Ash found it hard to keep the grin from her face.
Once the last of the customers left, Mr. Deming took Ash by the arm and led her to a clean table, “Sit and start talking!”
Ash started to chuckle as she began the story, “It was so great and scary and the ride took forever. It was further than Boston. I had to change buses three times…”
“You got there in one piece?” Mr. Deming prodded to move the story along.
“Yep. Found the hotel on the second try. Who would think that a town smaller than Blandford would have four hotels?”
“It’s because of the beach, Lindsey. It is a tourist attraction. So, the hotel…,” he started to remember why he stopped talking to his own kids when they were teenagers.
Ash gave a small frown at the memory, “There was a huge hassle at check in. The counter guy started making comments to me like cutie, honey, sweetie pie, you know, dumb stuff. I’m just taking it but I was really steamed but I didn’t want any trouble. Then the guy sees Joe’s name on the reservations and he’s all apologies.”
“Thank God,” Mr. Deming let out a worried breath. “You don’t ever have to put up with people talking to you like, Lindsey. Next time speak up and ask for the manager.”
Ash shrugged, “It worked out okay. The guy was so worried I’d kick up a fuss, he upgraded my room. Ocean front. King size bed. Little sitting room with a fake fireplace. A fridge so I was able to store all the food you made me. Didn’t need to buy anything but water and orange juice.”
“That was all you ate?” Mr. Deming shouted. “Young lady, I told you to have a good breakfast each morning! You are not leaving here today until I make you steak and eggs. Really Lindsey, you know better than to scrimp on food. You’re too skinny as it is.”
“Mr. Deming, I could barely keep anything down,” Ash admitted. “I was so nervous. I’d nibble on the sandwich then puke for an hour.”
“Oh, honey,” Mr. Deming reached over and squeezed her hand. “You’re still going to sit here and eat the steak and eggs.”
Ash nodded. “So, I went to the beach. Wore the bathing suit. I was self conscious at first but Frannie was right; most people at the beach are much bigger freaks than me.”
“He is the town expert on freaks,” Mr. Deming grimaced.
“Be nice. He’s a good friend,” Ash waved a finger at her boss. “The beach was fun. I spent most of my free time there…,”
“The presentation,” Mr. Deming gently reminded her. “How did it go?”
“Right, well they listened to me and clapped at the end.”
“What did you talk about?”
Ash rolled her eyes to the ceiling trying to remember.
“Didn’t you write it down?”
“No, they give you the theme when you step up to the podium. Then you get a minute to think and then you start talking. You have to talk for ten minutes to qualify but if you go over fifteen you are disqualified,” Ash explained the rules. “My theme was something like how can businesses be good neighbors, you know, because of all the corporate scandals and stuff.”
“Ouch,” Mr. Deming flinched. “What a tough question? What did you say?”
Ash’s cheeks blushed furiously, “Well, I talked about the business people who were already being good neighbors to me. Teaching me what I need to know to get started. Teaching me to save money for college. I talked about you and Mrs. Ng and Mrs. Paul and even them, the Town Square’s, giving me a chance to compete for college money. How the encouragement and example and guidance opened up a perfect opportunity for me to become a responsible member of the business community even if I don’t win.” Ash bit her lip, “Or something like that.”
Mr. Deming had to swallow down his emotions before replying, “Lindsey, those are some wonderful thoughts in your head.”
“Thanks. Oh, and then when I was leaving the conference area somebody pulled me into another meeting room where they were having a poetry slam. Some magazine was sponsoring it. You just got up and made up a poem. It was so much fun. I did one and then they asked me to do another. I was gonna leave right after that but one of the organizers said he wanted three of us to close off the night. So, I did a third poem and people clapped and stuff. It was so fun.” Ash paused for a moment, “I hope it was okay that I put here as my mailing address. If Mrs. Ng sees a letter from the Town Squares, she’ll open it before I get home.”
Mr. Deming laughed. “You are very clever. And, of course it’s okay. I’m glad I’m more trustworthy with the U.S. mail than Mrs. Ng. Come on in the kitchen with me. While I make you some breakfast, you can tell me all about the beach.”
Ash bounced from her chair, “The waves were huge. They called them overheaders or something like that. Their accents are kind of hard to understand…,”
Ash finished stacking the last of the clean plates. In the two weeks since the scholarship conference, life had taken on a strange urgency. Business at the Coffee Shop had tripled since the computers were added. Mr. Deming was starting to grumble the place was making too much money. Her odd jobs had leveled off after an initial loss of customers to the minister’s son. However, her steady customers were asking for more work from her than just a mow every other week. There were paint jobs and fence repairs and car washing.
“Life is good,” she hummed to herself as she stepped into the dining area.
Mr. Deming was signing something for the mail carrier. Both looked up as she entered the room. Mr. Deming looked worried but the mail carrier was smiling.
“Thanks, Dem. Good luck, Ash. I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” the mail carrier held up said fingers before exiting the shop.
“Thanks, Eleanor,” Ash didn’t know what she was thanking the woman for but it was only polite to answer.
Mr. Deming held up two pieces of mail, “The results.”
Ash’s knees turned to water. She sat down quickly in a nearby chair. Her breathing was labored.
“Read it, please.” Ash thought to herself, “God, please let this happen for me. One good thing more. Just one more.”
Mr. Deming obediently opened one of the envelope in his hand, “The winner of the $5000 Patricia Scholarship is MaryEllen Stone, the winner of the $2500 Future Town Square is Roger Howe, and the $1000 Honorable Mention goes to Lindsey Lee Ash.”
Mr. Deming shook his head sadly as he stared at his stunned employee. He handed the letter and check to her and watched helplessly as she mutely stared at it. His heart broke for her.
“Like MaryEllen needs money for college,” he growled.
“I won a thousand bucks,” Ash mumbled. “Mr. Deming, I won a thousand bucks! Me? I came in third. Me! I won a thousand bucks!”
“Well, yeah but…”
Ash wasn’t listening to him, “That is a full year of community college or half a year of state college. Mr. Deming, I’m gonna go to college. I won a thousand dollars!”
Mr. Deming didn’t know what to say. His disappointment was meaningless in the shadow of Lindsey’s unbridled joy. He hadn’t realized how little money it would take to make Lindsey’s impossible dream possible. But, Lindsey knew.
“Oh my God! It is unbelievable. I did it. I did it…hey, what’s the other letter,” Ash sobered with worry the first letter was a mistake.
Mr. Deming ripped the envelope open and fumbled with the papers, “It seems you won the Rap Words ‘Zine Poetry Slam 2005! Grand prize, $1500. Congratulations!”
“OH MY GOD!” Ash screamed as she leaped in the air. “WHO’S GOING TO COLLEGE? Who gets to keep saving money and go to college too? Who’s getting out of Blandford?”
“I believe you are, my dear,” Mr. Deming answered with a mixture of pride and loss. “Okay, you need to go to the bank. I’ll give you ride. Don’t want anything to happen to those checks.”
“I haven’t finished with the pots and pans,” Ash remembered her unfinished work.
“We’ll go to the bank and I’ll drop you back here. I can’t stay to help because Mrs. Deming ordered movie tickets on line. I hate it when she plans things in the middle of the day. I’m a busy man.”
Ash couldn’t resist teasing him, “You don’t want to wash pots and pans, is all. It’s okay. I don’t have to be anywhere this afternoon. So, bring me to the bank and then I’ll come back and finish up.”
“Is the alley door open so you can get back in?” Mr. Deming asked as he headed for the front door.
“What? Are you just going to toss me out of a moving car?” Ash asked the man with a wink.
Mr. Deming held the door for her, “Well, we got tickets to that there penguin movie and I don’t want to miss any of it.”
The sweet innocent laughter that followed would be one of Mr. Deming’s fondest memories of that particularly tragic Wednesday.
The ringing phone roused her from a sound sleep. “Hello?”
Lightning flashed.
“Ah, sorry to wake you Mrs. Pretty. Is Officer Pretty there?” The voice at the other sounded like a professional.
“Dylan, phone,” she nudged her sleeping husband with the cordless phone.
His hand made two tries before he actually grasped it without rolling over. “What do you want?”
Beth did not lie back down. She took her glasses from the nightstand. They did little to improve her vision in the darkened room. She stared at her husband’s back waiting for a clue to the purpose of the late night call. Rain pounded against the window.
“Officer Pretty, sorry to wake you but this is West Metro Hospital Dispatch. There’s been a pretty viscous assault in Blandford this evening. The victim was transferred to us. She’s in surgery.”
“Beth,” Dylan covered the receiver, “it’s the blood bank. Go wake up Dad, will you?”
Beth climbed out of bed and grabbed her sweat pants.
The dispatcher continued, “Obviously, she’s a B negative. She’s needing lots and lots of blood and clotting material. She’s sucking us dry to tell the truth. We requested a med flight from Boston for B negative products when we saw the severity of her injuries.”
Thunder rumbled.
“The storm has them grounded at Logan. Officer Pretty is there anyway you could come over…,”
“Sure. I’m getting my Dad. He’s on your list too. We’ll be there in about forty minutes. Hey, my daughter, Nikki, is on the list too but she’s pregnant so don’t call her.”
“Yes, sir. We have a hold by her name. Thank you again, sir.”
“If it were my daughter, I’d want somebody to do the same thing,” Dylan said with a yawn before hanging up. “Why are you dressed?’
Beth had pulled on a sweatshirt. “I’m driving you two. No arguing. You were drinking last night so it’s not worth the risk.”
“A couple of beers…,” he snorted at her.
“Get dressed. I’ll get your father,” she cut him off and went into the darkened hallway.
“Beth, is it the baby? Was that Nikki?”
Beth flipped on the light. Her father in law was halfway down the stairs fully dressed; shirt, tie, suspenders, baggy pants, bright white sneakers. He had his cane in one hand and the other was clutching the railing.
“No Dad, it wasn’t Nikki. Too soon for the baby,” Beth explained as she met him halfway up the stairs. “It was West Metro. They need you and Dylan to go over and give blood.”
“Ah, somebody’s hurt. No good. Might be family? Did anybody call Rodney or Stewie to check they’re okay?” He let go of the railing and grabbed hold of Beth’s arm for support.
Beth kissed his cheek, “Heck of a way to have to wake up, huh Dad?”
He gave her a quick peck on either cheek, “Any morning I wake up in your house, Beth, is a good morning.”
“Thanks Dad. And, I wouldn’t worry about Rodney or Stewie. Their wives would have called before the blood bank, right?” She reassured.
“You got a good head on you shoulders, Beth. Always thinking.” He gave her hand a squeeze.
“Would you two hurry up?” Dylan shouted from in front of his bedroom door.
“Don’t be ugly,” His father scolded as he and Beth reached the landing.
“Look, old man…,”
“Please, everybody calm down. Let’s just go and get in the car. It’s going to difficult enough driving out there in the storm without us all fighting,” Beth advised.
“Hey, you can stay home. Nobody needs you to come along,” Dylan announced before stomping down the stairs.
Beth looked crestfallen to her father in law, “I need you to come along. I hate needles.”
“Thanks Dad,” Beth sighed.
Dylan Pretty strode into the emergency room of West Metro. He left his wife and father to follow on their own a pace or two behind. His head was pounding even though he had slept most of the ride.
“Officer Pretty,” a familiar voice called.
“Dem? What the Hell you doing up this late?” Dylan asked. As he approached, he saw the man’s shirt was covered with blood. “What the Christ happened to you?” He felt his wife step next to him and he hastily made the introductions, “Oh, this is my wife, Beth, and my father, Stu.”
Dem bobbed his head in acknowledgement and pointed to the little round woman seated next to him, their hands entwined, “My wife, Savannah.”
“So what’s going on?” Dylan asked again.
“We went to the movies. I never do that. But, we did. I left her to close up. After the show was over, I remembered I forgot to take steaks out of the freezer and put them in the fridge to defrost…,”
“God, I told him not to go back but he insisted. If we hadn’t,” Savannah broke down in heavy sobs.
“Was there a break in?” Dylan’s pounding head ache was getting worse listening to the weepy pair.
“No, it looks like somebody hit her from behind when she went out with the trash. They beat her senseless. Her white shirt was completely red with blood when I found her.”
“If you had listened to me, she would have died in the alley like a dog,” Savannah cursed herself.
Beth couldn’t stand it. She went and sat next to the grieving woman. “Easy. You couldn’t know somebody was hurt.”
“Who is ‘she’ anyway?” Dylan finally ventured.
“Lindsey.”
“Lindsey Ash?” Dylan asked in shock as he remembered the spunky little blonde he took down a peg or two last month. “What was she doing at your shop?”
“Oh, she works for us. For a couple of years now. Such a sweet girl,” Savannah gushed. “Mrs. Pretty, you made such a huge impression on her at graduation. She has laughed and smiled more this summer than in her whole life, I think. She’s come right out of herself. Been planning to go to college and just got a bunch of scholarships…,”
“And, now she’s in surgery fighting for her life. Her old social worker, she’s Lindsey’s Proxy, well, she came down a little while ago to say it didn’t look too good. They can’t get ahead of the bleeding. They might run out of her kind of platlets and have to use O. I guess, it works better if they can use the real type.”
Beth felt like she had been slapped across the face. Her cheeks reddened. She stood. Her heart was racing. She thought she might get sick. She stepped within an inch of her husband before speaking. Speaking very quietly.
“Lindsey Lee Ash has B negative blood. Just like your Dad. Just like your daughter. Just like you.”
Dylan smirked, “Three percent of the population, babe. Three percent has B negative.”
“Yeah, but in Blandford, most of the folks with B negative are related to you,” Beth hissed.
“If you got something to say then say it,” Dylan challenged her.
“I’ll be waiting in the car,” Beth snarled and stormed away.
