7. 6218 Oak Hill Drive

She didn't need directions, and when she arrived, nothing had changed. She turned left down the drive and mentally ticked past 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 tan garages before the sidewalk branched into the front lawn of 6218 Oak Hill Drive. The familiarity of it sucked the air from her lungs.

Phillip sat waiting on the front step and smiled broadly. She wished she had brought Todd.

The walls were white inside the foyer, and in the living room, too, and beyond, Dolores guessed. Her mother would never have conceded to white. It lacked courage, she said. Her mother was here in spite of it; her mother was everywhere.

Phillip led her through the living room, past the kitchen, and into the guest room. It was an office, and Richard sat at a desk too bare to be useful, Dolores thought.

"You've arrived on time," Richard said.

Dolores noted 6:57 on the digital clock atop the filing cabinet beneath the window.

"Did you have any trouble finding the place?" he asked her.

"No," she said.

They had no idle, scripted chatter before Richard pulled a manila file folder out of the top right drawer and handed it to Dolores. "Some instructions," he said.

A detailed schedule of Phillip's eating, toileting, dressing, reading, and bedtime routines, was typed and bulleted in 12-point font. "This is very thorough," she told him. Jesus.

Dolores followed Richard into the kitchen where he affixed the schedule to the unadorned refrigerator using one familiar, Mount Rushmore magnet. Richard pointed out his cell phone number, starred, italicized, and left-justified at the bottom of the page, pulled his keys from a delicate hook nailed into the wall beside the door to the garage, and left.

Dolores heard the mechanical grind of the garage door opening and the car start and shift into gear. Behind her, Phillip ran a small plastic car across the tiled floor. Dolores pulled the magnet from the refrigerator and turned it over. "D, D, P '92" it said, in black marker. She dropped the magnet into her pocket and left the schedule on the counter.

"Wanna go upstairs?" she asked.

Phillip drove his car straight up the front of the cabinet door under the sink, a perfect 90-degree angle from the floor, then flew it like an airplane to Dolores, where he tucked it into her pocket with the magnet. He took her hand. Together, they climbed the carpeted stairs and then turned into the bedroom just to the right of the landing: Phillip's room.

Dolores took in the narrow, twin-sized bed with the simple navy-blue comforter and plaid pillows, fastidiously made. Phillip ran to the opposite end of the room to a black trunk centered perfectly under the window Dolores knew overlooked the front lawn and drive. He flipped open the lid and began to pull out stuffed animals and colorful, plastic odds and ends with movable parts.

"This used to be my room," she said, joining him.

Through the open curtains, she saw Richard sitting in his car, parked on the other side of the street.

6. alarm, but not exactly

//Review Chapter 5//

It was not like him to speak without thinking, and this was the third time in less than three hours he had. Richard had no need for a babysitter. He worked as a certified public accountant out of the first floor bedroom, which he'd furnished with a desk and called an office. He did not leave in the evenings unless it was to the grocery store or to the movie theater where he had taken Phillip twice before. What would he do? Where would he go? Would the girl need a ride? If she did, what would they discuss in the car?

"Um," the girl responded. Phillip's hand was still in hers.

Richard read her face. Confusion.

"Not normally," she continued, and then cleared her throat. "It's not, uh…"

"This is my address," Richard said, abruptly, pulling the READ bookmark out of Phillip's library bag. He penned his address in hasty block letters along the side and handed it to Dolores, feeling suddenly very bold. "I have need for babysitting services tomorrow evening from 7:00 to 9:00. I will pay you fairly. Will you need a ride?"

Dolores dropped Phillip's hand and stared at the bookmark. Richard tried to read her face, but it had changed, and the expression was unfamiliar. Alarm, perhaps, but not exactly.

"You…" she began. "How is this…" She shook her head.

The large side door of a mini-van, parallel parked along the street, slid open, and delivered three teenage boys and a football.

"No," said Dolores.

"But, I will pay you," countered Richard.

"No, I don't need a ride." She looked again at the bookmark, shook her head, and slipped it into her back pocket. "I'll see you tomorrow at 7:00." She smoothed Phillip's hair.

No Good (a song for Dina)

No Good (Dina)


Lyrics

You got a million different words for a woman like me.
Trouble is, not a one fits exactly.
The weight of your words, like feathers in space.
Now I'm shooting down satellites while you state your case.

I'm no good. I'm no good.
I'm no good. I'm no good.

You and my daddy are like two peas in a pod.
Picking at every which way you think I'm flawed.
Well, go ahead and keep picking, 'cause I'm already gone.
I've got a million different ways to prove you wrong.

I'm no good. I'm no good.
I'm no good. I'm no good.

I'm gone, but I'll stay where you can see me.
I'm gone, but I'll stay where you can hear me.
I'm gone, but I'll stay where you can see me.
I'm gone, but I'll stay where you can feel me.

A woman like me doesn't disappear so easily.

Words & Music by Patresa Hartman (November, 2012)