Page 14 of Stone Blind

It was the seat the guys had saved for her. She clapped her hands together. “I have some dishes, Stephen, but I need Mr. Ricky and Mr. Milton to go pick up the dining room table so we can use it to eat supper. We’re having shrimp and rice with chicken, broccoli and a side salad.”

She tossed a banana to Oscar. “Let’s get it moving, guys.” Helen provided the receipts for the consignment shops and the address to Bad Apple and Ricky, who went into town to collect the items. Per Helen’s instruction, they needed both trucks.

“Shit, we need a moving van,” Ricky said. “How much did you give her to spend?”

A woman in the store grinned at them both. “Hey, you must be the husband. Your wife came through here like the Tasmanian Devil and dropped eight hundred like it was nothing. She made some quality choices, too.”

“Yes, my Helen is something,” Apple said, looking at all the furniture she’d picked out for only eight hundred dollars. The haul filled the bed of each truck after both stops to get it all loaded and back to the house. He arrived at the sad little grey house to happy faces waiting for him on the porch that leaned to one side. Eager, they rushed out to carry in the items, listening carefully to where everything would be placed.

The boys fussed and fawned over everything, almost sensing which items she’d picked for each of them, and even Apple himself became impressed at what she’d gotten for him. When he reached his bedroom, fresh blue sheets were on his bed, with a color coordinated comforter set, with a bar of soap in a container and towels at the foot. The curtains she’d chosen for the room rested under the window for hanging. He also had a rug on the floor by his bed. More importantly, he had pillows. It would make for a more restful night.

When he looked in the boy’s rooms, he saw the same. The kids were optimistic, and Stephen, happier than he needed to be, prepared dinner in matching cookware. He and Helen set the table with real dishes on coordinating placemats and cloth napkins. In the consignment's corner shop, Helen located a tablecloth which she draped over the dining room table, giving it an air of holiday vibes. She had even picked up a set of napkin rings, which made the young man cry as he set the table for supper.

Helen looked at Bad Apple. He scowled at her. Hesitantly, he asked, “did you go over, and how much?”

She scowled back at him, “I came in under. There is a balance of about a thousand on the card, minus the $300 cash you owe me for the headboard, dresser and chest of drawers for your bedroom. I only spent roughly around four hundred to stock the pantry and freezer. So that leaves about seven.”

Helen walked off to grab a few melted down candles she’d purchased from a bin at the second-hand store, lighting them to set the ambiance for dinner. She instructed the boys to wash up for supper and come to the table. To drive home her ability as a thrifty woman, she handed him the list along with her final receipts for the day.

Ricky, standing behind Apple and looking at the table, whispered, “I think I might love her. Whoever he is, I may throw my hat in the ring for that lady.”

Chapter 4 - Pursue

The week ended on a note of tiredness Helen had never known in her life. Every muscle in her body ached, her joints throbbed, and even her thumbs felt as if they pulled a twelve-hour shift sending out text messages. In her spirit, she was happy to know she’d passed the first test of mental fitness to begin her training as a Technician. Based on the reaction of everyone in the house after the initial purchases, especially the individual chairs, she was doing pretty good. How any of that would help her be an assassin was beyond the scope of her limited reasoning, but as she’d been taught, every action elicits a reaction. Thus far, the reactions were right on point.

Wednesday morning brought a one-on-one day with Jeffrey, a 17 year old, with hair that stood on end like Don King the boxing promoter. It wasn’t her place to suggest a haircut, but if she could discern what type of clothing he liked to wear, maybe...perhaps, there would be a middle ground, versus having the young man look like he worked in a lab making terrible drugs that made people see dancing monkeys. The idea of being alone with him made her nervous, and then she looked into his eyes at breakfast. He was enthusiastic about getting out of the house for whatever they were going to do.

“We should be back after lunch,” she said aloud, but her eyes were on Oscar. He was the youngest.

Helen’s logic, whether accurate or sideways, was to get Jeffrey set up first, then he could aid Oscar with situating his room. So far, she had seen no real connection between the boys. If, and it was a big if, she could have Jeffrey step up asa protector for the two others, then, in this life, or when they moved forward to whatever came next, a sort of family could be formed.

“Let’s roll, Jeffrey,” she told him.

The first stop was to the super-center in Janesville, where she could score a quart of paint, chinos, and jeans. The super center store was also a great place to purchase a fresh pack of undies, pjs, and some form of house slipper. Jeffrey’s head was down when they walked, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The tattered clothing he wore, broken down from wear and tear, looked no different than what the other teens in the store were worn by choice.

“Let’s get you a pair of jeans, a button down, a matching tee, and pair of chinos,” she told him. “We can look elsewhere for a pair of kicks, but a white nondescript pair from here can work to rock your gear.”

Jeffrey almost, nearly gave her a smile. “I want a pair of Nikes if you have any of the money left.”

“Sweetheart, if you want Nikes, we will figure out how to make it happen,” she told him, offering a faint smile.

The plan, she decided, was to only purchase one pack each of underwear, tees and socks. Jeffrey mentioned the second-hand store. Then she had an idea.

“I have $40 bucks cash here,” she said, passing it to him. “I’m going to let you decide what you want in the store and what you feel is most important to you.”

Jeffrey, shocked at her approach and giving him money, decided foremost, he needed a wallet to put it in. Luckily, it was red tag week in the thrift store, which offered even deeper discounts. She watched him handpick clothing, only spending twenty of the dollars.

“I want a haircut,” he said. “Been a long time since I had one.”

“Haircut is next,” she told him, searching her phone for a hip and cool barbershop. Locating a men’s grooming station close by, she secured the items in the vehicle's rear, careful to cover the bags with a blanket she kept for just in case, before they walked in the barbers. She clutched her purse tightly, appearing afraid of everything and everyone in the shop. A man who she assumed was the owner stepped forward.

A hearty, boisterous voice greeted them, “Whassup, can I help you?”

“Yes, my son needs a cut, maybe a shave,” she said, lowering her eyes to not make too much eye contact. “All he has is a $20; can he get it done here?”

The way she said it made all the men in the shop react. She was told to take a seat while Jeffrey sat in the chair. Helen couldn’t hear the shop owner or what Jeffrey was saying to him, but the boy looked up and made eye contact with her. He did it in a way that asked her to back up the story he’d given to the barber. She nodded her head, praying she hadn’t agreed to a lie that couldn’t be substantiated.

Twenty minutes later, Jeffrey looked like a new person. He walked with his head held high and confidence in his posture. His shoulders were back as he went into the wallet to pull out the twenty. The barber only took ten.

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