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    Not a Doormat
    Not a Doormat
    Not a Doormat
    Ebook107 pages1 hour

    Not a Doormat

    By Barbara Bodnar

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    About this ebook

    Stories about women and girls who faced odds and rose above them.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBarbara Bodnar
    Release dateJun 15, 2020
    ISBN9781393338956
    Not a Doormat
    Author

    Barbara Bodnar

    Barbara Bodnar lives in Northwest Ohio with her husband and three dogs. Writing has always been in her blood, but started writing seriously after retirement.

    Read more from Barbara Bodnar

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      Book preview

      Not a Doormat - Barbara Bodnar

      By

      Barbara Bodnar

      THE WOMAN IN THE WINDOW

      AMBER

      She has sat there as long as I can remember. Always at the same window, at the same time of day. She sits there every afternoon for hours. Sometimes when we walk home from school, she waves at us, but we never see her outside.

      My parents have lived across the street from her house their whole married life and they have never seen her outside–never have seen her leave in a car. The local grocery store delivers food to her front door, and we sometimes wait to see her get it off the porch. They deliver right before they close at nine 0’clock and the owner leaves the bags on his way home. He told my Dad the order comes in by phone every Tuesday morning. He’s never seen her except through the window. She takes the food in after dark.

      I am a senior in high school and have lived across the street from her my whole life. When my siblings and I were young, we made up stories about her. Weird ones: she roamed around at night, snatching kids, and keeping them in her basement. We knew it wasn’t true; no kids ever went missing in the neighborhood. Another one: she was under house arrest; she killed her husband. The list was long.

      Since I’ve gotten older, it bothers me she stays inside all the time. I’ve thought about knocking on her door, hoping she’ll let me in. My Mom discourages this, but I am determined, and Mom didn’t say I couldn’t. I’ve decided I will do it next Saturday. If she doesn’t answer the door, I will leave a note Tuesday so she will get it when she gets her groceries.

      I make my plans to knock on her door. I wonder what makes her stay inside all the time? There must be a fascinating story about her life. My Mom told me she tried to visit her twice, but the woman didn’t answer either time. I guess people quit trying.

      I don’t think there is anything sinister about her. She almost seems friendly when she waves at us. Yep, it’s time to find out.

      Saturday comes, and I will go over when she is sitting in the window.  At least she will know I’m there. If she doesn’t answer the door, I plan to go up to the window and try to talk to her. I am determined. I feel bad for her. She needs friends.

      I see her in the window and take my time crossing the street, and hope she won’t think I’m intruding. I nod and wave to her as I climb the steps to her porch. A person is working in the yard and does repairs. He does his job and leaves.

      I knock on the door and wait... and wait. Then she raps on the window and motions me to her. I walk over and she raises the window about half way. I stand in front of her. In the few seconds before she talks, I notice she is not as old as I thought, and she sits in a wheelchair.

      I did not know what to say, so I talked. I’m Amber and I wanted to meet you. I’ve watched you all my life and have wondered about you, and I think you need a friend.

      You may be right. Aren’t you curious about me?

      Sure, but not in a bad way. It seems I’ve known you all my life. And yes, I have questions.

      If you want to be friends, I have a few things you must do. You must tell no one who I am, other than your parents. And they must agree to not tell anyone until I say they can. You cannot bring anyone over. Can you do that?

      My parents will want to make sure you are a safe person, and not an ax murderer or something. Can you talk to them and tell them? Maybe you can call them on the phone?

      I will. Give me your phone number and I will call tonight. Then, if it’s okay with them, you can come over tomorrow afternoon about three o’clock. We’ll have tea and you can ask your questions. I have a few to ask you, because I’ve watched you grow up and I want to learn more about you.

      I left happy and ran across the street to tell my Mom. She agreed to talk with the woman, so after supper we waited for her call.

      At seven o’clock the phone rang, This is Star from across the street.

      They talked for a long while and after Mom hung up the phone she was smiling. I think you will enjoy getting to know her and you will become friends. She would not elaborate; she told me she would make a cake for me to take with me the next day.

      I hurried to my room to write in my journal. I’ve written a journal entry every day since I was ten. It’s taken on a life of its own and is more of a story. I plan on writing the great American novel someday- as soon as I decided what to write about. I was excited to meet Star and hear her story. Maybe it would become the start of my novel. I had a hard time sleeping.

      Mom asked me not to tell my brothers because it needed to stay a secret. I asked why and Mom said, ‘ Star will tell you. We’ll keep it to ourselves for now."

      I was nervous when I knocked on the door. Star opened the door in her wheelchair and I saw why she was in the chair. She had no legs to her knees and only one arm. Otherwise she was pretty and about my Mom’s age. Around forty years, I thought. She smiled and motioned me to follow her.

      We went into the large kitchen. It was all white and yellow. And clean. The counters were lower than usual to adapt to her chair. There were sunflowers in various places–on the curtains, and real ones on the table. I handed her the pound cake my Mom made. The one with lemon glaze was my favorite cake.

      I love anything lemon and so will Summer, she said.

      Who is Summer? I asked.

      My daughter. You will meet her soon. She works nights and isn’t up yet. We will tell you our story when she comes downstairs. We’ve agreed it’s time.  Now, tell me about you while we wait. I’ve watched your family for years. It touches me how close you all are and how happy you are.

      Well, I’m a senior in high school. My brothers are twins and in junior high. My Dad is a lawyer and my Mom is an ER nurse. We are not too interesting. School, work, church, and sports.

      Are you going to college next year? What will you study?

      Well, I want to be a writer so will major in some form of writing. Don’t know if they have a degree in Creative Writing. Depends on what college I choose, I guess. Writing is all I’ve ever wanted to do.

      Star laughed, You will like my story.  What do you write?

      In my journal. It’s become more of a story in progress than a journal.

      Have you ever let anyone read it? Do you think you have talent?

      No one has ever read it and I think I could write a novel. Haven’t tried though,

      After you hear my story you might... I hear Summer. Do you want tea or lemonade?

      I don’t much like tea, and I love lemonade. Can I help get plates and stuff for you?

      A tall, slim woman entered the kitchen. She wasn’t much older than me. She introduced herself as Summer and sat at the table. When her long hair moved, the left side of her face was one huge scar. Her left hand was badly scarred

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