week three of Brigits_flame
Title:Trash Day
Rating: R for some Offensive language
Prompt: Happiness is
Sara looked down at the three trash bags sitting on her front porch. She pushed back her perfectly curled bangs and glared at them, before looking over her shoulder. It was a long way to the brown trash can sitting on the road side. As usual there was no one to help her. Not that it was different than any other time. Bob, her husband never remembered to take the trash out. So they just sat there week in and week out, until finally Sara would drag them down and somehow get them in the trash can herself.
Her mom warned her about marrying a Doctor, but she didn't listen. Didn't listen when her mother told her, Bob would never be home. Would never be around to help with any of the house work. That Sara would be left to fend for herself but, Sara had been young and star struck by the tall distinguished Doctor. The thought of Being Dr. and Mrs. Robert Jones had been too much of a lure.
Sara had wanted the perfect house, which she had gotten. A four bedroom ranch style house in the middle of one of the best neighborhoods in down town Smithville. Every room in the house was decorated to perfection. Sara had hunted through hundreds if not thousands of antique shops to find every treasure that was stashed in her house. She had poured over book after book of wallpaper samples to find just the right pattern for Bob's home office, but did he care? No. Not once did he tell her she did a good job.
That was alright though, she knew she made him happy. She would dress in the latest Donna Karen outfit and go to his charity functions or the Hospital banquet and smile. She would laugh at the other Doctor's jokes and talk to the wives about their kids. She didn't have kids. Sara wasn't able to. It was one of the few failings as a woman she had. Bob always said they could adopt, but why do that? Deal with someone else's problems? What would be the sense in that?
Sara sighed and reached for the first bag. She grabbed it and pulled down the the front steps. She still couldn't belive how heavy it was. Sara looked at the big green truck making it's way down her street. Today would be the day. The day the trash would get out on time, she would make sure of it.
Sara pulled the bag down the sidewalk, over the perfectly manicured lawn. The gardener, that she had hired, came by twice a week and made sure the lawn was never over grown. Sara hoped the bag would hold. She had triple bagged all of them, just make sure they wouldn't break. That would ruin everything if they did.
"Well shoot!" Sara cried out as she bumped into the trash can. She let go of the first bag and looked behind her. There was a small brown stain on her peddle pushers, right on her thigh. She would have to change when she got back inside. She looked back at the bag. She better get all of them down here first before she put them in the trash can. The green truck was just a few houses down now. She was running out of time.
Sara turned and ran back to the porch and grabbed both of the bags still left on the porch. She let out a very un lady like grunt as she pulled and hefted, but they wouldn't move. She could feel tears prick her eyes. She wanted so badly to get them down there before the truck go there. They couldn't sit there for a whole week. She glanced behind her. The truck was at the neighbors now. Sara set her mouth in a firm line and started to pull the bags down the porch in desperation.
"Hey lady!" Sara turned and watched a young African American run at her.
The young man was smiling, his white teeth gleaming in the sunlight, Sara couldn't help but stop to watch. It wasn't like his grey jump suit did anything to hide his well toned body. Sara stood up a little straighter and pushed her blonde hair back into place, she smiled at the young man.
"I'll get those." He stopped a bit away from her, almost like he was afraid to approach her. He had such manners. Sara stepped back from the bags and watched as he reached for them. "Wow. These are heavy. What do you have in there?"
Sara laughed and walked beside him as he lifted the bags up in the air, walking towards the green truck. "Oh just some old memories."
The young man nodded his head. "Must have a lot of memories then." He tossed one of the bags into the back of the green truck and the other followed just as quickly. "Is that all?"
Sara looked into the young man's huge eyes and shook her head. "No. " She pointed at the last bag waiting by the trash can. "One more memory left." She laughed again, feeling almost giddy.
The young man trotted over to the bag and picked it up easily. There really wasn't much in that one. Just what she couldn't fit in the other two. He tossed it in the back and nodded at Sara.
"You have a good day ma'am." He jumped up on the back of the truck and held on to it as it moved slowly down the street. "Don't let any more memories hold you back."
"Oh I won't." Sara called and waved at the young man. "Nothing will keep me back anymore."
Sara turned around and looked at her house, a smile on her face she moved across the lawn and up the steps, across the porch and into her house. Just as she entered the kitchen, the phone rang.
"Jones residence." She sang out into the walk around. "No I am sorry. He isn't here may I take a message?" Sara pretended to listen to what the person on the other end of the phone said as she gathered up the white sheets that had been spread out on the kitchen floor. "Of course! That was four eight six nine, right?"
She rolled up the sheets and stuffed them in the trash can, those could wait a week, maybe the lovely young African American man would come back and help her with the bags then too. Sara nodded as if the person on the other end could see her.
"Yes, the meeting tomorrow will be at eight." She picked up the knife and rinsed it in the sink. She told Bod the electric knife would come in handy, but he didn't belive her. One more thing she was right about. "I'll make sure to tell him. Anything else?"
When the knife was clean she picked up the revolver off of the kitchen counter. "Yes. The Davis file. "
Sara walked through the hallway and into Bob's study. Sara opened the top drawer and returned the gun to it's proper place.
"Alright." Sara shut the drawer and placed the walk around on the desk.
She glanced around the office and narrowed her eyes. She could turn this room into a lovely sitting room. Something in French Country maybe? Bob always hated French Country, but that didn't matter now. She didn't have to worry about that anymore.
"Oh I almost forgot." Sara slapped her forehead and quickly left the office. She still had to change her clothes before she made the ladies luncheon at the club. Sara hurried up the stairs, humming to herself. She might even stop off and get her hair done. That always brightened her day. Nothing made a woman happier than having her hair done.
Rating: R for some Offensive language
Prompt: Happiness is
Sara looked down at the three trash bags sitting on her front porch. She pushed back her perfectly curled bangs and glared at them, before looking over her shoulder. It was a long way to the brown trash can sitting on the road side. As usual there was no one to help her. Not that it was different than any other time. Bob, her husband never remembered to take the trash out. So they just sat there week in and week out, until finally Sara would drag them down and somehow get them in the trash can herself.
Her mom warned her about marrying a Doctor, but she didn't listen. Didn't listen when her mother told her, Bob would never be home. Would never be around to help with any of the house work. That Sara would be left to fend for herself but, Sara had been young and star struck by the tall distinguished Doctor. The thought of Being Dr. and Mrs. Robert Jones had been too much of a lure.
Sara had wanted the perfect house, which she had gotten. A four bedroom ranch style house in the middle of one of the best neighborhoods in down town Smithville. Every room in the house was decorated to perfection. Sara had hunted through hundreds if not thousands of antique shops to find every treasure that was stashed in her house. She had poured over book after book of wallpaper samples to find just the right pattern for Bob's home office, but did he care? No. Not once did he tell her she did a good job.
That was alright though, she knew she made him happy. She would dress in the latest Donna Karen outfit and go to his charity functions or the Hospital banquet and smile. She would laugh at the other Doctor's jokes and talk to the wives about their kids. She didn't have kids. Sara wasn't able to. It was one of the few failings as a woman she had. Bob always said they could adopt, but why do that? Deal with someone else's problems? What would be the sense in that?
Sara sighed and reached for the first bag. She grabbed it and pulled down the the front steps. She still couldn't belive how heavy it was. Sara looked at the big green truck making it's way down her street. Today would be the day. The day the trash would get out on time, she would make sure of it.
Sara pulled the bag down the sidewalk, over the perfectly manicured lawn. The gardener, that she had hired, came by twice a week and made sure the lawn was never over grown. Sara hoped the bag would hold. She had triple bagged all of them, just make sure they wouldn't break. That would ruin everything if they did.
"Well shoot!" Sara cried out as she bumped into the trash can. She let go of the first bag and looked behind her. There was a small brown stain on her peddle pushers, right on her thigh. She would have to change when she got back inside. She looked back at the bag. She better get all of them down here first before she put them in the trash can. The green truck was just a few houses down now. She was running out of time.
Sara turned and ran back to the porch and grabbed both of the bags still left on the porch. She let out a very un lady like grunt as she pulled and hefted, but they wouldn't move. She could feel tears prick her eyes. She wanted so badly to get them down there before the truck go there. They couldn't sit there for a whole week. She glanced behind her. The truck was at the neighbors now. Sara set her mouth in a firm line and started to pull the bags down the porch in desperation.
"Hey lady!" Sara turned and watched a young African American run at her.
The young man was smiling, his white teeth gleaming in the sunlight, Sara couldn't help but stop to watch. It wasn't like his grey jump suit did anything to hide his well toned body. Sara stood up a little straighter and pushed her blonde hair back into place, she smiled at the young man.
"I'll get those." He stopped a bit away from her, almost like he was afraid to approach her. He had such manners. Sara stepped back from the bags and watched as he reached for them. "Wow. These are heavy. What do you have in there?"
Sara laughed and walked beside him as he lifted the bags up in the air, walking towards the green truck. "Oh just some old memories."
The young man nodded his head. "Must have a lot of memories then." He tossed one of the bags into the back of the green truck and the other followed just as quickly. "Is that all?"
Sara looked into the young man's huge eyes and shook her head. "No. " She pointed at the last bag waiting by the trash can. "One more memory left." She laughed again, feeling almost giddy.
The young man trotted over to the bag and picked it up easily. There really wasn't much in that one. Just what she couldn't fit in the other two. He tossed it in the back and nodded at Sara.
"You have a good day ma'am." He jumped up on the back of the truck and held on to it as it moved slowly down the street. "Don't let any more memories hold you back."
"Oh I won't." Sara called and waved at the young man. "Nothing will keep me back anymore."
Sara turned around and looked at her house, a smile on her face she moved across the lawn and up the steps, across the porch and into her house. Just as she entered the kitchen, the phone rang.
"Jones residence." She sang out into the walk around. "No I am sorry. He isn't here may I take a message?" Sara pretended to listen to what the person on the other end of the phone said as she gathered up the white sheets that had been spread out on the kitchen floor. "Of course! That was four eight six nine, right?"
She rolled up the sheets and stuffed them in the trash can, those could wait a week, maybe the lovely young African American man would come back and help her with the bags then too. Sara nodded as if the person on the other end could see her.
"Yes, the meeting tomorrow will be at eight." She picked up the knife and rinsed it in the sink. She told Bod the electric knife would come in handy, but he didn't belive her. One more thing she was right about. "I'll make sure to tell him. Anything else?"
When the knife was clean she picked up the revolver off of the kitchen counter. "Yes. The Davis file. "
Sara walked through the hallway and into Bob's study. Sara opened the top drawer and returned the gun to it's proper place.
"Alright." Sara shut the drawer and placed the walk around on the desk.
She glanced around the office and narrowed her eyes. She could turn this room into a lovely sitting room. Something in French Country maybe? Bob always hated French Country, but that didn't matter now. She didn't have to worry about that anymore.
"Oh I almost forgot." Sara slapped her forehead and quickly left the office. She still had to change her clothes before she made the ladies luncheon at the club. Sara hurried up the stairs, humming to herself. She might even stop off and get her hair done. That always brightened her day. Nothing made a woman happier than having her hair done.