Interior Designs
by Larry Strattner
“I don't know how much more of this I can take, Frieda. He doesn't hit me a whole lot; never in the face, just constantly calls me names, says mean things, tells me I can't do anything. I'm not myself anymore.” She stared at her placemat, with pictures of the little houses and children playing, her eyes wet. No tears. Frieda saw only a mist of despair.
Frieda had seen her own hard times, her brutish husband Herman cleaning out their life's savings and running off. Disappearing along with the contents of their savings account. The county sheriff looked for Herman as long as resources allowed; he had one deputy. They called surrounding states; found nothing.
“I know, Honey. I know,” Frieda called everyone Honey. She patted Leona's hand. They had met years ago waiting tables at the Exit 53 truck stop; became friends. Once she came to know Leona, Frieda added a special lilt of compassion and caring when she called Leona “Honey.” It had a caring to it beyond the “Honey” she offered to her trucker customers.
“I have some people you need to talk to. They're real nice. You won't believe how much better you'll feel.” Frieda rummaged around in her purse, finally producing a little slip of paper. “Here.” She handed it to Leona. “This almost turned to compost, mixed in with my other junk. Never imagined I'd pass it along. I thought it was just me, how well it worked. How much better it made me feel. You give them a call, Honey, soon as you get home.”
“Who is this at this number?”
“Let's let it be a surprise. You'll get so involved it will take your mind off all the bad stuff.”
“I don't want any Holy Rollers knocking on my door. I don't want them and, my God, if Elmer thought I called any, he'd kill me.”
“No, no, no, Honey. No religious gobbledygook. This is a fun thing. Spruce up your life. Just call.”
* * *
Leona waited while the phone line buzzed and clicked. “We're not in the shop right now,” said a pleasant-sounding voice. “Leave your name, address and number. We'll get back to you. Our number is only given out by referral so we know someone who cares about you knows we're the people who can brighten your day.” Beep.
Leona hesitated a moment; “3308 County C; 973-2675. My name is Leona.” She fervently hoped Frieda knew what she was talking about.
* * *
Working in her front-yard flower garden, Leona had almost forgotten her phone call when she heard the distinctive sound of a school bus coming up County C. A white bus, like the one the Christian Sunday School used, pulled to a stop across the road from her yard.
“Hi!” the driver called across to her. “Is this 3308?” Elegant, black-outlined gold lettering on the side of the bus said, 'Mobile Upholstery Training Laboratory.' Through the side windows of the bus she could see machines, fabric, and one window completely filled by round bolts of cloth.
“Yeess?” She drew the word out hesitantly.
“You called us. Frieda Erstat referred you. She's used us. She was very satisfied. Seen her sitting room lately?”
“Uh. No. No, I haven't. I haven't been over to her house for a while.” Because I'm not allowed out much, she almost added, but stopped before she said it.
“Let me get this Ark turned around here,” the bus driver said cheerfully, already looking in his big rear-view mirror, “and I'll tell you what this is all about.” With much gear-grinding, engine-revving and steering0wheel twisting, he did so; in and out of her driveway, then pulling the bus up on her side of County C.
The white door hissed open and he stepped down. Out of the corner of her eye Leona saw the back door of the bus open. Some people got off, tossing out and handing down some boxes and things; she couldn't tell what. She had never seen the back door on a school bus open. She thought they were for emergency use only.
“So basically,” the driver continued talking to her through the distraction, “we help you re-upholster your entire sitting room or living room. The bright, lively patterns really pick up your mood. We only use colors proven by research to improve mood.”
It's not my mood that needs improving, thought Leona.
“Since you help do a lot of the cutting, sewing and tacking at our direction, it costs next to nothing. It's like a whole new house! A transformation!”
The two men and a woman from the back of the bus were setting up a heavy-looking folding table, pushing one side flush against the side of the white bus, hooking it to some little chrome eyelets. The table had a laminate top with a speckle design. They moved equipment to each end of the table.
“I don't know if Elmer...” she began fearfully.
“Elmer? Oh, Elmer. Elmer must be your husband. Mrs. Erstat mentioned him. You let me talk to Elmer. When he understands what he's getting he'll be fine. He'll be AOK.” The driver smiled.
He certainly has nice white teeth, and he'll get a chance to talk to Elmer sooner than he may expect, Leona thought as Elmer's car pulled into the driveway
Elmer got out and slammed the car door, his shirt stuck to his chunky torso as it did whenever he sweated, which was constantly. His sleeves were rolled up a few turns and he was not AOK. His red face looked like he was ready to dish out some trouble. “What the hell is going on here...?” he began.
“You must be Mr. Kronk,” the bus driver said, stepping forward to meet him with a white-toothed smile and outstretched hand.
“Your ass, Mr. Kronk. I'll give you Mr. Kronk,” Elmer said, his fists balled up.
The bus driver lifted his hand as if to placate Elmer and Elmer made a funny face and fell down. Leona gave a little shriek, her eyes big. Elmer didn't move. The bus driver put some little black thing back into his pocket.
“Don't worry. He's fine.” The bus driver said. The two men who had set up the table picked Elmer up by the knees and shoulders, carried him to the table and laid him down upon it.
They must be strong, Leona thought. I know Elmer weighs a ton lying on me. God. He's going to be furious...
One of the men and the woman went into her house and came back out carrying her sofa.
It is a bit drab. She felt addled. A beautiful yellow, green and rust-patterned bolt of cloth stood in front of a group propped against the table. Maybe that one. The yellow would make the room much brighter. Elmer is going to kill me. She was shaking and light-headed.
The woman stood by Elmer's feet and finished taking off one shoe and sock. She picked up a scalpel and made a quick cut on the inside of Elmer's leg.
“What are you...?” Leona squeaked, not quite able to catch her breath as the woman put what looked like a rubber shoe on Elmer and deftly zip-tied the top around his lower leg. A motor began to hum somewhere in the bus.
“Now don't you worry about a thing,” the driver said and patted her on the shoulder. “Frieda has taken care of this. Only a short time and all the fluids will be out of his body. Then we run him through the desiccators, shrink-wrap the rest in poly and Bingo! A little Memory Foam and he's the new cushion on your reupholstered sofa! Rather amusing don't you think; Memory Foam? Have you picked a fabric?”
Leona pointed at the yellow bolt of fabric and fainted.
She awoke in her new living room, lying on her gorgeous yellow sofa. All the furniture had been reupholstered to match. New drapes in complimentary colors framed her front bow window. Out at yard's edge by the roadside the white bus was gone. A red-orange sun hung low on the horizon.
She relaxed in her beautiful room, as beautiful as the driver had promised. Elmer was extremely comfortable. She couldn't feel a single lump. She felt wonderful. Cradled at last by Elmer in the exquisite colors of her new room she drifted back into dreamless sleep.
Copyright © 2011 by Larry Strattner
