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smackenzie"Ok, ok, I won't call her yet. You think Grandma had a box to pack stuff in? Maybe there's something in the building I could use."
Marya's grandma had some shoeboxes in her closet - most of them with the shoes inside, because Marya the First thought it was better for the shoes if you stored them in their boxes - so Marya emptied them of shoes and filled the two biggest with picture frames and knicknacks and the few pieces of jewelry her grandma had brought with her. Marya's dad, who was not as trusting as his mother, had strongly suggested that Marya keep her grandma's good jewelry in the house, so as to avoid tempting anyone at the assisted living complex. Marya never wore any of it, and her grandma never asked for it, but there wasn't really a lot of good jewelry to begin with. Marya the First wasn't much of a jewelry wearer - she had a strand of pearls and matching earrings, a pair of diamond studs, a couple of gold bangle bracelets, a really nice gold watch with a delicate band and sapphire chips around the face, and a diamond tennis bracelet that Marya's dad had bought her when she turned seventy.
But all that was at the house. Marya's grandma had a small pile of little-old-lady costume jewelry in her room at the assisted living place, all brooches except for a ring with a huge glass ruby on it. She didn't wear earrings any more and she'd never been particularly fond of necklaces. Marya swept the brooches and ring into a shoebox and added a pair of white handkerchiefs with teeny scallops along the edges and initials embroidered in one corner in red, "MKM" and "SJM," for her grandparents. Her great-grandma had embroidered two sets of hankies when her grandparents had gotten married.
Marya didn't know what to do about the afghan once she'd folded it up. It was big enough for a queen sized bed and was kind of bulky. She could hold it in her arms but she didn't want to drop the shoeboxes, and with her arms full of afghan it was hard to see where she was going. She needed a shopping cart. Or a suitcase.
Well, her grandma had a suitcase, didn't she. It even had wheels.
Marya stuffed the afghan inside, wedged the shoeboxes in with it, and zipped the suitcase closed. At the last minute she took the knitted green hat and matching scarf with five-inch fringe, which her grandma had probably crocheted for herself around the time she'd crocheted Jasmine's purple scarf. Marya pulled the hat over her hair and wrapped the scarf around her neck, pulled up the suitcase's handle, and twisted Oscar's leash around her wrist. She looked around her grandma's room one more time, hoped she'd found all the random important things, and left. She closed the door behind her and heard the lock click.
"Now no one else can take her stuff," she told Oscar. She didn't bother to say out loud that this was probably because there wasn't anyone TO take her grandma's stuff. Jasmine didn't want any of it, and that guy who told her she couldn't bring Oscar inside wouldn't be able to use any of it.
Marya dragged the suitcase back the way she'd come, past empty rooms and closed doors and finally through the lobby and outside. Her van was still there, which surprised her a little, although she wouldn't have been able to articulate why. She loaded her grandma's suitcase and Oscar inside, made sure the side door was locked - she didn't want it flying open while she was driving, because that only had to happen once to make you really pay attention in the future - climbed in, and headed back out.
She wanted to drive around a little before she went home, though. She figured she should get gas, in case the pumps died or there was some kind of gasoline rationing. But she'd drive around first, and her last stop on the way home would be a gas station. She'd passed a few on her way to the assisted living complex, and some of them had had their lights on, even though there were no cars fueling up. They'd looked open, for a given defintion of "open" that did not necessarily include "attendants to take your money". But they'd looked as if Marya could get gas from them.
First she wanted to look around, though. See what the damage was, so to speak. See if she could find more people who maybe knew what was really going on.
words: 750
total words: 6797
Marya's grandma had some shoeboxes in her closet - most of them with the shoes inside, because Marya the First thought it was better for the shoes if you stored them in their boxes - so Marya emptied them of shoes and filled the two biggest with picture frames and knicknacks and the few pieces of jewelry her grandma had brought with her. Marya's dad, who was not as trusting as his mother, had strongly suggested that Marya keep her grandma's good jewelry in the house, so as to avoid tempting anyone at the assisted living complex. Marya never wore any of it, and her grandma never asked for it, but there wasn't really a lot of good jewelry to begin with. Marya the First wasn't much of a jewelry wearer - she had a strand of pearls and matching earrings, a pair of diamond studs, a couple of gold bangle bracelets, a really nice gold watch with a delicate band and sapphire chips around the face, and a diamond tennis bracelet that Marya's dad had bought her when she turned seventy.
But all that was at the house. Marya's grandma had a small pile of little-old-lady costume jewelry in her room at the assisted living place, all brooches except for a ring with a huge glass ruby on it. She didn't wear earrings any more and she'd never been particularly fond of necklaces. Marya swept the brooches and ring into a shoebox and added a pair of white handkerchiefs with teeny scallops along the edges and initials embroidered in one corner in red, "MKM" and "SJM," for her grandparents. Her great-grandma had embroidered two sets of hankies when her grandparents had gotten married.
Marya didn't know what to do about the afghan once she'd folded it up. It was big enough for a queen sized bed and was kind of bulky. She could hold it in her arms but she didn't want to drop the shoeboxes, and with her arms full of afghan it was hard to see where she was going. She needed a shopping cart. Or a suitcase.
Well, her grandma had a suitcase, didn't she. It even had wheels.
Marya stuffed the afghan inside, wedged the shoeboxes in with it, and zipped the suitcase closed. At the last minute she took the knitted green hat and matching scarf with five-inch fringe, which her grandma had probably crocheted for herself around the time she'd crocheted Jasmine's purple scarf. Marya pulled the hat over her hair and wrapped the scarf around her neck, pulled up the suitcase's handle, and twisted Oscar's leash around her wrist. She looked around her grandma's room one more time, hoped she'd found all the random important things, and left. She closed the door behind her and heard the lock click.
"Now no one else can take her stuff," she told Oscar. She didn't bother to say out loud that this was probably because there wasn't anyone TO take her grandma's stuff. Jasmine didn't want any of it, and that guy who told her she couldn't bring Oscar inside wouldn't be able to use any of it.
Marya dragged the suitcase back the way she'd come, past empty rooms and closed doors and finally through the lobby and outside. Her van was still there, which surprised her a little, although she wouldn't have been able to articulate why. She loaded her grandma's suitcase and Oscar inside, made sure the side door was locked - she didn't want it flying open while she was driving, because that only had to happen once to make you really pay attention in the future - climbed in, and headed back out.
She wanted to drive around a little before she went home, though. She figured she should get gas, in case the pumps died or there was some kind of gasoline rationing. But she'd drive around first, and her last stop on the way home would be a gas station. She'd passed a few on her way to the assisted living complex, and some of them had had their lights on, even though there were no cars fueling up. They'd looked open, for a given defintion of "open" that did not necessarily include "attendants to take your money". But they'd looked as if Marya could get gas from them.
First she wanted to look around, though. See what the damage was, so to speak. See if she could find more people who maybe knew what was really going on.
words: 750
total words: 6797
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no subject
Date: 2007-11-15 03:15 pm (UTC)