She cupped her hand around her face to look in the back window, not ready to open a door and claim what had happened as her own. A glimpse of her yellowing, pale loose skin caught her eye as she raised her arm, making her feel a little more worn out.
I can leave, she thought, and start over one more time.
She saw a rusted crow bar on the back seat resting on top of square, blue bits of tinted glass. They weren’t even worried enough to hide what they’d done. That was the real message.
Alice needed her cell phone. She fumbled with her oversized faded brown leather purse, and for a moment she felt the excitement she had when she first bought the purse at Macy’s department store. She had just arrived in Richmond, Virginia and was looking forward to her new job as supervisor of the finance division in the city’s utility department. The purse was to mark the start of a new phase in her life.
This time she was going to build something permanent that was only hers, something no one could touch. No ex-husband to steal away half, which was really everything. Nobody can afford to buy back half of everything they have just to keep it, she thought.
The thought always made her screw up her face a little. She hated that part, that someone she hadn’t even laid eyes on in, what, ten years could still make her feel anything.
“This was supposed to be my new life,” she hissed, pushing on the tight clasp. It had become more stubborn over time, just like Alice, and made her thumb ache for a moment before it would relent and open wide, revealing all the contents at once.
She took out her dollar store reading glasses and put them on before finding her cell phone.
“Hello? Is Marty there? Marty? This is Alice Watkins, I own the green Chevy? Someone’s broken my windshield and I need a new one. Yes, vandalized. No, I’m not going to bother. They’ll only tell me they don’t usually figure these things out. Could you come and replace it? No, I’m paying cash. Do I get a discount for that?”
Someone would be there soon. No need for Alice to wait by the car. Everyone at the station knew her. She could drop a check off in the morning. Marty gave her the usual senior discount of 10 percent off. Alice hated turning 55 last year and discovering she was sometimes stuck in the senior category.
She picked up her white cotton tote bag with the green handles and a large green tree on each side under the Ukrop’s Grocery store logo. They were an institution, founded in 1936 and well-loved by everyone in town even though they’d sold out to Martin’s and were even open on Sunday’s now. That’s why Alice had bought the sturdy sack. It was to let everyone know she was part of the old crowd, putting down roots. Packed inside was a pair of blue Keds with an empty water bottle, a worn paperback mystery someone had lent her, and some files from work she needed to get to tonight. She slid the straps over her left shoulder, balancing the weight with the purse in the other hand, and headed back toward the building and her cubicle.
Maybe everyone has left by now and no one will see me come back inside. Maybe I’ll never have to explain.
Alice took small, mincing steps despite being almost six feet tall with extra wide feet. Her feet were crammed into brown leather Clarke’s that matched her purse. The only brand she’d ever found that fit.
She got to the back door and punched in her security code slowly. Swollen fingers made it easy to punch two numbers at once.
“Damn,” she muttered, as she felt her finger mash down the six and the nine. Everything had become harder to do lately. Alice was permanently on edge. She jiggled the handle hard till it clicked, letting her start over. This time she tried using another finger and pushing with just the tip of her fingernail.
The handle started to turn as she pushed the last number and Alice backed up, waiting for whoever was trying to leave to emerge through the door. She took in small sips of air to steady herself and decided to say she had forgotten something. Keep it simple.
“Alice!” It was Lynn Hedgepeth. She sat in one of the smaller cubicles downstairs from Alice listening to customer complaints all day. She always looked distant and not quite all there. Alice figured that was how Lynn made it through a day.
“Hey, Lynn,” said Alice, trying to sound cordial as she pulled the door open a little wider to start to squeeze past Lynn, “forgot something.”
“Did you hear?” asked Lynn. Alice thought about acting like she didn’t hear her but she wasn’t in the door far enough to pull it off.
“Hear what?”
“Ray Billings, he’s dead. I heard it was an apparent suicide, whatever that means. Shot to the head just a little while ago. Hasn’t even been reported in the news yet. He seemed happy enough to me. Just goes to show. Didn’t he work under you? Weren’t you two working on some project together?”
Alice let her purse and Ukrop’s bag drop to the ground. The bag fell over and a shoe slid out, pulling a file with it. She let herself fall backward and sat down hard, her teeth clicking together. The crying started, grieving really, for what she could see was already gone. Maybe for what she might never have again. Some kind of simple life.
“I quit,” she mumbled.
Chapter Four