Untitled Story 2

                “You made it!”

                “Yes but barely. I can’t believe I made it from the building in thirteen minutes.”

                The approaching woman was wobbling with exhaustion from the hurried trip and heavy rain. Her boots struggled to remain balanced on the slick floor.

                “I thought you were working from the Bremerton side?”
                “Well I was,” the woman sat down to catch her breath and placed her bags on the worn booth seat before continuing, “but they told me they couldn’t support the staff anymore.”

                “That’s a bunch of cock and bull,” whispered Sandra, as she got out her knitting supplies and an unfinished blanket.

                The passenger gate had been closed and the familiar recording of a local sports announcer echoed through the ferry boat to remind passengers of the rules of the hour long ride. There was thick fog surrounding the dock and a National Guard boat sped alongside the ferry. Another woman across the row pointed at the National Guard man and his gun with her pencil.

                “Good to see the military is prepared to kill the fog,” she mumbled and looked back down at her Seattle Times crossword puzzle.

                Sandra chuckled. Her fingers – adorned by plastic rings and a shocking blue nail polish—were already quick at work on the soft pink fabric she held in her lap. The movement of her hands drew attention to the Disney fairies from ‘Sleeping Beauty’ tattooed on her arms that appeared to be flying down to her wrist.

The neighboring booths were all occupied by women in their 50s and 60s. Every few minutes one would make a comment or voice a complaint about their work day and the others would pause from their various crafts to listen.

                “A day before but it will work. Hopefully should last until she’s two years old,” said Sandra.

                Her friend reached out to touch the baby blanket with worn fingers.

                “How long until she gets it?”

                “She’s having a C-section. I think they’ll keep her for three days…maybe Thursday or Friday and she’ll be ready to go. I’ll wash it tonight and it will be all ready for the baby.”

                “Is it the same father?”

                Sandra resumed her work on the blanket and drew a deep sigh.

                “No. The first two were the same guy and we don’t know who little Marie’s dad was. This one was a sailor and doin’ fine until he had to take a urine test. Failed it. Then I found my daughter in my room looking for Codeine for him. I used to respect him. Neither looking for a job and they don’t have a job now. He’d rather go food bank to food bank than find a job. They get $200 each and I’m not getting’ a cent because I make the most money. I told ‘em, ‘I am not taking care of this next one because you aren’t caring for the other kids.’”

                Her booth partner nodded her head in agreement and mumbled “oh dear” and “I’m sorry” whenever her friend had to pause for breath.

                “I’m tired, May. I can’t care for more children. I can’t even think about retiring for another five years. I’ll be 67 by then!”

                A different voice than the sport announcer’s came over the speaker system to ask for the owner of a vehicle to turn off the alarm.

                “She’s been talking about the C-section non-stop but she’s had one before. I told her to grin and bear it. When she’s done the hospital will send her home and she’s to take her painkillers like she’s supposed to. There’s no way I’m giving her some of mine! I need to get a bedroom lock for my door, May.”
                “You better not tell me she’s still got a habit with that baby on the way,” said May. Her fingers were also busy at work; but unlike the other women in the booths, she braided her blonde and grey hair rather than weave yarn.

                “Unfortunately, I think she’s only off the drugs right now because she is pregnant,” said Sandra with a frown. “But I told her to take her painkillers right and when they’re gone, they are gone…she says she likes that fuzzy feeling. I’m glad she’s staying away from Crank at least.” Her voice ended the statement in a whisper.

                Sandra finished her the baby blanket and smoothed the fabric out with her hands.

                “Well damn. Nice and soft,” she turned around while laughing to ask a woman crocheting a scarf, “Carrie, what the hell am I going to do now?”

                Carrie yelled back to May’s amusement, “You’re so excited to be done and yet already complaining you have nothing to do.”

                She looked away from the booth behind her and turned her head to the right. One woman was knitting a blanket and had the finished end over the back of the booth in order to cover her napping friend. Sandra let out a roar of laughter and rubbed her knuckles.