Page 7 of Refuge for Flora

“Looks like the house could use a coat of paint too,” Flora offered.

“You know how to paint?”

“No, but I’m sure I can learn.”

Mrs.Murphy squinted at her. “Where you from, girl? You ain’t from ‘round here.”

“No, ma’am. I’m from eastern Kentucky. Pikeville.”

“Whatter ya doin’ here?”

“Looking for a change of scenery.” That sounded pretty good.

“Running from the law?”

“No, ma’am. Just time to move on.”

“Well, you wanna look at the room I got for ya? It ain’t much, but it’s a roof, a bed, and a bathroom. Oh, and food and such. So, you still interested?”

“Let me go back here and take a peek at the room.”

Mrs.Murphy motioned toward the hallway. “Help yourself.”

Flora watched dust swirl around her ankles as she stepped into the hallway. On the left was a bathroom, and it needed a thorough cleaning. There was a door on the right, and she opened it and peered inside.

It looked like a teenage girl had just left it?in the seventies. The bedding and curtains were girly-colored stripes and several animal-shaped pillows lay on the bed. There were pictures of a girl in a prom dress on the dresser, and another of the same girl holding a trophy as she stood on a stage. A jewelry box lay in the middle of the dresser, its lid open, and some cheap, junky jewelry rested inside it. A bottle of perfume, its contents long since evaporated, sat beside a hairbrush on the small vanity across the room, and there was a bookcase full of all kinds of books right beside it. The biggest shock was the dust. It was everywhere, on every surface, and it looked as though the place hadn’t been cleaned in twenty years.

She checked out the end of the hallway and found the other bedroom. It appeared to have a small bathroom adjacent to it. The décor in that bedroom wasn’t much better. It was apparent that when it came to niceties, Mrs.Murphy just wasn’t interested.

There wasn’t a chance to sit down again before the old woman asked, “Well? You wanna work here?”

Flora nodded and sat back down. “I think so.”

“When can you start?”

“Rick will be back in just a few minutes and he’ll take me to get my things.”

“Rick? That your boyfriend?”

Flora shook her head. “No. Guy who helps out at the… church.”

“Oh! You mean RickyMabry. He helps out at that women’s shelter. He’s one-a them queers.” Mrs.Murphy looked quite proud of herself for recognizing Rick’s sexual preference.

“I dunno. I didn’t know what his last name was.”

“Yeah. I knew his mother.” Mrs.Murphy stared at her again. “You runnin’ from somebody, ain’t ya, girl?”

Fear sliced into Flora’s chest. “What would you know about that?”

“I know I had a husband. And he beat the shit outta me.”

She hung her head and sighed. “Did you run?”

“Girl,” Mrs.Murphy barked, “I ain’t never run from nothin’ in my life.”

“So what happened to him?”

A knowing grin spread across the old woman’s countenance. “He went to Tennessee.”

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