Hope Sucks

Part 4:

Hope continued on with life. Things were looking up. Her therapy sessions went from twice a week to once a week. She was making progress in getting to the bottom of her sadness. She was still incredibly lonely and sad. Of course Doodie was missed with every breath and beat of her heart. Her journaling was at a new level. Her friend Dorothy stayed on her about sharing them.

It was difficult for Hope to pinpoint her sadness. She was surrounded by people but still felt very alone. It wasn’t the quality or quantity of people she spent time with. She just did not feel her soul dance. The truth is Hope needed to find what she was passionate about. While she was taking time to nurture herself, she was yearning to find what drives her, what makes her insides scream and something she solely ached to do. 

On a sunny afternoon she decided to help Mitch out even though she was kind of wishing she let her ex push him off the boat a few years ago in the middle of Pugent Sound. Hell, she would be out of jail by now for sure.

The vacuum cleaner needed to be picked up and Hope was shocked there was not someone on the Island that could have fixed it. However, the more she thought about it; people were probably still using a stick and some straw to clean their homes around these neck of the woods.

Hope called Mitch to ask him about the claim ticket. He was stressed as usual and acting like the jack ass he is.

“I just don’t have time to bring you the ticket right now. I am going to see Edna about her remote control and” 

Hope interrupted him by blurting out “I am in the car heading towards the senior center, I will pick up the damned ticket.”

“Oh, wait then, I am not there yet.”

“Call me when you do get there.” And she hung up on him.

It wasn’t Hope’s problem he was miserable in his own existence. She only knew Ying wanted the vacuum cleaner and tomorrow was Friday. There were certain people Hope believed you simply do not piss off in life, a bartender, a food server, the housekeeper and Mom’s named Barbie. It wasn’t rocket science, shit.

After two phone calls, meeting fucknut in the middle of town, nearly missing the ferry and having to ask Dorothy for directions on how to get to Renton, Hope was on her way. She was happily listening to one of her favorite tunes ‘A little bit of Chicken Fried’ when she passed the place up. It’s a one way street so she sensibly parks in the next shopping center and strolls back two blocks on foot.

Hope opened the door to the quietest little sewing/vacuum shop ever. She walks to the counter and stands there but sees no one. She looks around, pokes her head in the back, looks at sewing machines, puts some chapstick on, taps her fingers on her chin, and is now contemplating a justified theft of a vacuum cleaner when she hears “Oh hi there, I didn’t hear anyone come in.” Hope was pretty sure she would not have heard a marching band come in at the volume of her voice.

The woman was the cutest, little, petite elderly lady who looked tired.

“Oh no problem” Hope said “I am here about a vacuum.”

“Well you have come to the right place. Which one would you like to test out?” Hope had no choice but to follow her to a patch of carpet labeled ‘test area.’

“Um, uh, no ma’am I am here for a repaired one.”

“Ugh Good Lord, well then, what is your name?” she harshly says while Hope follows her the other way.

It is apparent to Hope she is disappointed over not being able to sell her a new sucker upper.

“It is under Mitch O’Donah” Hope says out of fear.

“O what?”

“O’Don-ah” she politely says.

“You don’t look like no Mitch” she barks.

“I agree, but I do know a girl named…”

The lady rudely interrupts “well you never can tell these days with girls on girls and boys being girls. What color is your vacuum?”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“How do you not know? Well what kind is it?”

“Ah, a Dyson” Hope says with a smile mustered up out of fear.

“Is it yellow?”

“No, I think it is… maybe blue?”

Truth is Hope had not paid much attention to the vacuum cleaners skin color. She believed they were all created equal. The girl on girl and boys being girls comment was still playing in her head and this woman was freaking her the fuck out.

“WELL! You don’t know the color and you don’t look like no Mitch, Hmm, I… I just might need an I.D.”

“Ma’am I have a claim ticket” she says fearing for her life.

“Why didn’t you say so” as she snaps the paper out of her hand and goes into the back room.

Hope is standing there somewhat afraid to move. Hope quietly says to herself “because you didn’t ask me and I am actually afraid of your four foot ass.”

“This was not under warranty you know” she grumbles upon her return.

“Okay, how much?” Hope politely asks as if she was going to argue and lose her life to this angry sawed off woman.  

“One hundred and nine dollars and fifty three cents.”

Hope handed her the debit card as if she were paying for her freedom.

“You need to put your code in that thing, well for heaven’s sake, where is it? Don’t tell me someone walked away with that too.”

Hope stares down at an empty counter. There is a magazine to her right. She picks the magazine up and says “here it is” and quickly pushes those magical four numbers.

“Here are your receipts” the woman says and walks off to the back.

Hope picks up the receipts and thinks, Well shit, I am surprised she didn’t throw the vacuum out on the sidewalk. "Come on little vacuum, you are sprung, let's get the hell out of here." Hope says to the apparatus who she now feels sorry for. It must have been hell to be in this shop for a week. 

 

She quietly walks out of the shop and is sauntering down the street pulling Dyson along when she hears “EEEEERRRP SCREEEETCHH, SQUEAL hooooonk, BANG!”

“Jesus Christ” she stares open mouthed at a car on the sidewalk about 20 feet in front of her. Even though Dyson was obediently following her he was now laying on the sidewalk and Hope was motionless. There is commotion and chaos around her. People are stopping, getting out of their cars and many gasps of “oh no” are all around her.

She hears another uproar, “you Son of a bitch! Stupid dumbass fuck! DAMNIT!!” as the driver emerges from the sidewalk car.

Now both drivers involved are out of their vehicles yelling and carrying on about how ignorant the other is and who is at fault. A crowd has gathered and people are muttering oohs and aahs. 

“Bullshit” is said loudly “ask the lady with the vacuum she was right here, I almost hit her.”

Hope looked around for the lady with the vacuum.

“Holy shit…not me! She stands in awe that she is the lady with the vacuum.

“Oh no, not me, I didn’t see it” she pleads “really I didn’t.”

“Well what is your name?” the less angry of the two says.

“Um, Hope I think But, wait, NO, I didn’t see anything, really I…”

“Her name is Mitch” and Hope turns to see the sewing lady glaring at her.

“No, it is NOT and I didn’t see anything” she mutters and walks towards the driver. “Do you want my phone number?”

“Yes”

Hope writes it down on the paper and pen he provided and walked off towards the car with Dyson in tow. She calmly and gently puts Dyson in the car. For a second she considered putting the seat belt on him. (Yes, he now has earned the right to a gender.) She assumed she looked crazy enough walking down the street with a vacuum so she drove away arm and arm with Dyson.

They have a bond now and Hope knew if he could talk he would say “that sucks.”

Dorothy encouraged Hope to write the story and post it on a social media site they shared. She got many encouraging words and her friend Liz said she was laughing so hard she almost peed. It was obvious Hope may have just found her passion, putting words on paper. 

The only problem is Hope wanted to write correctly and first person, second person, quotations, thoughts, third person drove her crazy. She decided to just write and figure out the proper shit as she went. In the mean time she chose to make fun of herself by using e-cards.

 

To be continued again…