Marfa, Texas
Something had always pulled her to the land out here. The days always seemed to stretch out a bit longer, and the nights were a bit brighter. To the unknowing eye, it would seem like any other desert west Texas town. But there was magic here.
Maybe it was the tiny, century old buildings seemed to blend into the ever-spreading desert landscape, or the young brightly dressed scholars and artist who would lounge at coffee and tea houses to discuss politics, music and philosophy, or perhaps it was the mixture of mystics and scientist who would come to watch the strange lights that floated into the midnight Texas sky. Ever since her father brought her there when she was a child, for a brief summer here in Marfa, the place had put a hold on her; a hold so strong it could only be explained as magic. And she brought her three year old daughter, Liliana and herself to claim that magic called her so long ago.
"Right, here we are!" Claimed the Uber driver, pulling her from her thoughts. Annabelle gently caressed the ample cheek of her daughter.
"Wake up Liliana, we're here."
The sleeping child furrowed her brow, and wiggled in her car seat, her rounded hands reaching up blindly. Annabelle chuckled, and reached over to undo the contraption , letting Lili wrap her arms around her neck. Gathering the soft, supple weight into her chest, she skillfully pulled the door handle behind her and backed out of the car. The Uber driver, a tall elderly man with a thick grey mustache and the most peculiar shade of green hat, was already unloading the trunk of the car by the time she managed to get out. "Would you like like me to help you with your luggage ma'am?"
"Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you so much." She smiled brightly.
The old man's mouth twisted. "Is this were you are staying?"
"Yes, there are living quarters, or better put an apartment behind the ——"
She stopped in mid sentence as she turned to finally get a good look at the shop she been saving up ten years for. In the many pictures that she perused through, the shop was small but quaint. A 1920's bungalow that had been renovated by the previous owners into a shop. It had a bright white painted wood exterior and black trim around the oversized wrap-around porch. The inside was clean, with eggshell colored walls accompanied with rich, dark wood paneling. Now looking at the structure there was only one conclusion she could logically reach; she had been had.
The place was a pile of matchsticks, a good gust of dry Marfa wind could set the place ablaze by the mere looks of it. Her stomach turned sour; she clutched the weight of the sleeping child protectively. Without a moment more of hesitation she marched towards the deteriorating shop.
"Wait miss—"
Mindful of lose floorboards of the porch, she carefully tip toed around them to reach the padlocked door. Fishing the keys out of her denim pocket with her free hand, she quickly opened up the door. The interior was no better then the exterior, maybe even worse. Many of the walls were torn down to offer an open space for the shop, and the only light offered was filtered through hazy glued shut windows. With no A/C, the air was thick and pungent with smell of decaying wood and forgotten mothballs, mix match pieces of furniture, trinkets and knickknacks where littered across the shop. The place seemed to have been an antique shop before the owners suddenly went off and left without half their merchandise. Seeing a seemingly recent painted door towards the back, she traversed through the maze of dust covered antiques.
She almost sighed in relief as the artificially cooled air hit her face. With an open hand she hit a row of light switches on the wall; lights flickered on in the kitchen and the living area along with a ceiling fan.
Thank God, the area looked livable. It was a small, sparse space but it was cool and it was clean. It seemed to be the only area of the bungalow that was kept up with. When renovations where first done, the kitchen was downsized and pushed towards the back of the shop along with a small living area, and master room and bath which was separated by another recently painted door.
'One, two.... and three,' doors. One to the shop, a door to the right for the bedroom and bath, and a backdoor that was transformed as the entrance to the living space.
The kitchen was microscopic, but had a sink, oven, minimal counter space and a.... , she pulled on the hard plastic of the refrigerator door, a working fridge. Lili started to become listless in her arms, Annabelle jostled her gently back to sleep, her own arms beginning to ache from the weight of the toddler. There was no where she could put the sleeping child, there was no furniture or bed, not that she would trust anything in this shack.
As if sensing her frustration the Uber driver, Marshall she believed his name was, knocked on the entrance door to the apartment. She unlocked the door.
"I thought you might be needing this." He lifted up an hot red expandable plastic bed frame. "Oh, thank you." He motioned her to stay put as he expertly arranged the bed frame in the center of the living area.
"Wait here one moment." He came back in a flash with the toddler sized mattress covered in sunny yellow sheets, he quickly placed it in the frame, allowing Annabelle to transfer the sleeping child onto the bed.
"You know your way around a Hot Wheels bed frame."
He smiled. "Got two grandsons."
"Well, thank you so much for all your help..."
"Where are you going to sleep?" He interrupted, looking around the small area. She waved her hands dismissively.
"Oh, I got an air mattress in my suitcase."
"I brought everything to the door..."
"Thank you again..." she began.
"Let me go get it real quick."
"Oh you don't have to...." he was already out the door.
She was tired of saying thank you and smiling, she was barely holding on as it was. This place was supposed to be her respite, her second chance she earned from the ten years of school and work. And now it seemed that she dug herself out of one hole only to land herself in another. She wanted the very kind man to leave so could have her nervous breakdown before Lili woke up from her nap, in peace and quiet.
But the man insisted on carrying her life, that she manage to fit into the the back of his SUV, and delivering it into this matchbox. Seeing the beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead she reached for large box labeled 'KITCHEN,' and pulled out her Brita and a cup. Going for the farmer's sink she rotated the silver handles: nothing. Again she tried, still nothing.
"No, no, no, no." She marched towards the bathroom. It was a quite charming bathroom, with a large clawed tub with a regular faucet along with a handheld faucet attached to it. She twisted the cross shaped handles: nothing. A charming bathroom with no running water! Her eyes began to sting.
"Miss, are you alright?"
No, she wasn't alright. "Yes, I'm fine." she walked back to the living area, plastering a smile onto her face. Marshall didn't look like he bought it.
"It just seems that I have no water. I saved up for emergencies like this though. Well, not this," she motioned towards the front of the store. "But I think I can afford replacing, fixing, or am I buying a new water system, tank thing?" She was way over her head. To her surprise the man took her small hand into his massive sun-weathered brown one and gave her hand a fatherly pat.
"No worries Ms. Basil, I think I might know a guy who could help."
She shook her head fervently. "I don't know if I can afford him." She needed to do research on what needed to be done, or fixed, or replaced so at the very least she wouldn't be taken advantage of by an over zealous salesman again.
He gave her a sly wink and released her hand. "Oh I don't think he would mind helping out a pretty young lady like yourself."
"Why, Mr.....," she didn't know is last name, "....Marshall you can't .... I can't just expect a complete stranger to...."
He was already tipping his hat and walking out the door. What an impossibly infuriating, kind man!Letting out a breath of exasperation, she immediately took out her phone and rated him five stars and left him a generous tip.
🌸🌵🌸🌵🌸🌵🌸🌵🌸🌵🌸🌵🌸🌵🌸🌵
"Hey boss, your uncle is here!" Leroy, a boy of sixteen came bursting through Ms. Julie Mayfield's screen door, letting the door slam with a loud 'THWACK' against the metal frame. The elderly Ms. Mayfield clutched at her pearls, while Jack let out a string of curses as he banged his head against the main pipe under her sink.
He emerged from underneath the sink sporting a tender bruise on the side of his head.
"Dammit Leroy, what did I say about bursting through doors like that? If there is one screw lose on that door it is coming out of your paycheck."
"Mr. Weston please refrain from such language in my presence. And you," the elder woman gave a pointed glare at the gangly teen. The boy stood at attention as if he were an unruly private facing a dressing down from his Sargent. "Gentlemen do not burst through doors like... like the running of the bulls! You scared the wits out of me!" The boy had the gall to smile sheepishly at the stern Ms. Mayfield while eyeing the fresh batch of cookies she just pulled out of the oven. "I'm sorry Ma'am, won't happen again."
"Make sure it doesn't." After a minute of frosty silence, Mayfield gave in with a reluctant sigh and nudged the plate of cookies towards the boy.
"Thanks Ma'am!" The boy exclaimed, quickly stuffing a cookie into his mouth.
Their was was gentle rapt on the door before Marshall Weston pushed his way through, removing his hat as he entered. "Afternoon." He said pleasantly, his eyes brushing over the the trio, straying a little bit longer on Ms. Julie Mayfield before he turned his full attention to his nephew.
"I got a job for you Jack."
Jack snorted as he slid back under the sink. "A paying one this time, I hope."
Only silence met him.
He pushed his way back out from under the sink and gave his uncle a baleful glare.
"Not again Marshall."
His uncle only shrugged his massive shoulders, as signing his nephew up for free labor couldn't be helped. Ms. Mayfield gently began leading the large man to the kitchen table before Marshall could further elaborate. It did not escape Jack's notice that his uncle, with a similar hulking figure as himself, always seemed try to make himself appear smaller in front of the widow Julie Mayfield. Either he didn't want to scare her off or he enjoyed her administrations.
"Why do you wear this coat when it is 80 degrees outside I'll never know." She began, taking the coat from him simultaneously as she urged him to sit.
"80 degrees is practically a Texas' autumn."
"Tsk. You'll wear yourself out, working all those little odd jobs you like to do, under this sweltering heat." She grabbed a pitcher of sweet ice tea from the fridge and pored his uncle a glass. Leroy, with a mouth full of chocolate chip cookies tried to grab her attention, motioning towards the pitcher as if to ask if he could have some. It went unnoticed.
"I like to stay busy." His uncle gruffly answered. Leroy shrugged his shoulders and went to grab himself a glass.
Jack cleared his throat loudly, gripping the bickering pair's attention.
"Uncle, what you sign me up for this time?"
His uncle smiled mischievously. "Oh, I think you'll like this one"