The Smell of Roses Part 2

Jackie took the Old Coast Highway that lead into the city. She had planned this for months. If today wasn't the right day, then she wasn't sure that she would ever go through with it. No matter what , things could not go on as they had for the last year. That was not an option. The sky was blue but a very special shade of blue - one that was almost translucent as she sped towards the city. She was alone on this stretch of road , and there were no exits from which , her rational self , might counsel her to "turn around, to go back..." No, THAT voice had been silenced if only for today. It was her "Good Girl Self " that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She was on her way and she intended to see this through. As, she glanced briefly to the left, she noted that not, only was there no one on the sandy rocky beach but not a single ship was on the horizon. There was no one to help her. More importantly there was no one to stop her. She could not remember when this stretch of road had ever been this lonely. This lonely and on such a beautiful day. She reached into her purse and pulled a roll of butter rum life savers onto the seat beside her. She popped the top one out of the roll and into her hand ." Yo, ho ho- its off to the city we go,' she thought, " A pirate's life for me...". The sea air made her nostolgic for summers at Cape Cod, salt water taffy and simpler things. "Perhaps", she breathed , "If she succeeded, no no, THAT was wrong. WHEN she succeeded, she could give the girls the same sort of experiance. " Yes, that seemed like a good idea...a very good idea. But to get there, she had to FOCUS NOW. She took the exit that would bring her closest to the office.

The exit brought her under the highway. Several street people congregated around a white Victorian corner store. She turned left onto Huntington. Bright art assaulted her eyes from the buildings on either side of the street. It was part of a city beautification project where the schools brought the children down to paint over the gang grafetti. Propaganda- we don't have gangs here, we have happy children painting happy pictures, it seemed to say. She knew that the prettiness was a facade to reassure timid tourists in this part of town. Turning to the right onto Sylvan, she drove between whitewashed warehouses completely lacking identity . The city had planted trees here to make it look less barren, less threatening. It had not worked. She could see dark forms in doors sleeping wrapped in colorful blankets here and there. The flowers, yellow, purple, and red looked ragged and worn in the median. The atmosphere had adapted the improvements and it all looked tired. She pulled her car into the first spot that she found, looked at the clipping in her hand, and checked the address of the building beside her. Another sign that she was doing the right thing. It was the very address that she sought. Sucking in her breath, she got out of her car, locking it behind her. One, two ,four, eight steps then up a weary set of wooden stairs to the front door. It was faded green once but now was tainted by the defiant tinge of city dirt " I have come about the car" she told the old woman who answered her knock. The old woman, brushed the greyed strand of hair out of her face ." Ricky, Come here! She has come about the car." (to be continued)