Lodging my shoulder underneath, I tried to stand, hoping that might unwedge it. I went out the seldom-used front door and tried pulling from the outside, with little success. But first, the blood-stained sofa had to go.Īfter shoving the kitchen table against the wall, I scooted the sofa to the door and promptly wedged it in the doorway. I hurried home, eager to start my new project. I half expected the girl at the register to give me a look of reproach, but she scanned the curtains and stuffed the nightie in the shopping bag without even flinching, as though she did that sort of thing every day. When I checked out, my nervousness made me jittery. Then I looked around to see if anyone saw me. To shut up my evil thoughts, I pulled the hanger off the rack and stuffed it under the curtain packages. When had I turned so wicked? But the nightie was planted in my mind and sprouting like a fast-growing weed, spreading and choking out every thought until there was nothing left but the want of it. As they slid over the silky cloth, my mind wondered what it would feel like to wear such a thing. Once they touched, there was no dissuading them. My fingers reached out to touch the fabric before my mind could tell them to be reasonable. It looked more like a slip than a nightgown, only it was a soft lavender and covered in tiny deep purple flowers. My gaze had found a nightgown, a kind I had never worn before. I was passing the edge of the lingerie department, if you could really call the underwear/pajama section at Wal-Mart lingerie. On my way to the checkout, something soft and shiny caught my eye. Overwhelmed anew, I finally decided on plain off-white panels that would be soft and breezy with the pale yellow walls. I forgot to measure the windows, but there weren’t many choices in lengths. He even disregarded my vision that his cat had clawed the side of his dining room table. The man in the paint department was helpful since I’d never painted before, assisting me with rollers and tape. I finally settled on a soft, pale yellow. My fingers slid down cards as though they were jewels, just waiting for me to pluck them out. For a woman not used to making decisions, I was forcing myself to face plenty of them recently. I studied the paint colors, overwhelmed again.
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