Waiting for light

She didn’t know what was worse: the stench of cat urine drowning every one of her pores, or the dull, throbbing ache in her lower back.  Or maybe the heat was the worst. Nothing quite like DC in July.  She patted the sheet under her until she found the phone, which had fallen off the air mattress and was wedged under her carry on bag. Only 3:15. 

What were the odds she could catch a cab at this time of night? What were the odds any of the hotels around here would have electricity? She checked WaPo online. Power still out through most of the city. It had been one hell of a storm.  As though reading her mind, her son emitted a deep sigh from his double bed on the other side of the room.

Grunting, she rolled onto her side then stiffly stood up, blinking and rubbing at her eyes to coax them back to work. A purring cat rubbed up against her leg. Then another. Gradually, her surroundings emerged. The studio was tiny, about the size of her dining room.  Joey’s bed/ couch took up one wall near the front door.  His bureau, desk, and television, were against the wall next to her makeshift bed. A couple of steps in front of her to the left was the compact kitchen: two burner stove, narrow fridge, a couple of cabinets, and a bank of windows, the safety kind that only opened a few inches.

As her eyes adjusted, she noticed one of the cats pawing at a window screen.  Maybe it was cooler outside than in.  She picked her way carefully, over spiral notebooks, pens, highlighters, and heavy law books that were scattered randomly over the floor. She’d only arrived six hours ago, but the intense heat made the passing time seem like centuries.

She turned on the cold water at the sink then searched the cabinets for paper towels to wet her burning neck and back. Finding none, she splashed water on her face then arms, legs, neck, back, hair. The black and white cat jumped onto the counter next to her and she dripped water onto the cat’s forehead and down its spine. The cat purred in appreciation, then stuck out her tiny pink tongue to catch droplets as they fell.  

She searched the floor for the pet food and water dishes. Finding them all empty, she filled a dish with cool water and all three cats came running.  In search of cat food, she intensified her rifling through the cabinets, and found shot glasses, beer glasses, one coffee mug with her son’s university insignia, three bottles of scotch – all open, two bottles of gin – one empty, a half full bottle of peppermint schnapps, two bags of chips, a box of crumbling Saltines, and an economy size can of tuna fish. This she opened and dumped into the cats’ bowls, as they swam around her butting against each other to get first dibs.  

In the fridge she found a half gallon of orange juice, a couple of cartons of milk, some oranges covered in green fuzz, and two containers of the fat free yogurt she liked to eat every morning. Joey must have been referring to the yogurt when he said, upon her arrival, that he’d bought her breakfast.  

He’d been late picking her up at the airport. Said the bar was nuts. But on the plus side, he made a ton in tips.  She’d pretended not to notice the liquor on his breath, and that he was wearing street clothes, not his bartender uniform.  She hadn’t yet mentioned the call from his manager, saying they’d had to fire Joey for drinking on the job.  Third time they’d caught him, even though he’d been warned. She hadn’t yet mentioned the ticket home she’d bought him, or the spot in rehab she’d already reserved.  

After pouring water into one of the beer glasses, first checking that it was clean, she walked to the windows.  There was no traffic this time of night on Wisconsin. No pedestrians either. The neighborhood was waiting for dawn. The surrounding buildings were black and glistening with wet, the streets dark and shiny from rain.  The sky was shades lighter, specked with pinpoints of bright stars flashing here and there.  She breathed in deeply, a heady mix of damp foliage and lingering car exhaust. The air was warm, but more refreshing than what swirled in the rank apartment.  

A block away were shivering silhouettes of mighty oaks and pines. Behind them the great spires of the National Cathedral soared.  She closed her eyes and prayed for guidance, for the words she’d need later that morning, while she waited for the sun to rise.   

Nanowrimo prompt #4: a hot room