three day hold
Walking on, Alice noticed a cement wall with relief-sculptured blocks that faced the ocean. In one frame, a ship sailed in a bay. In another frame, a horse reared on his hind legs. She ran her hand over the horse’s muzzle remembering the feel and smell of wet clay as she formed three-dimensional sketches of the pictures in her mind. She wanted to sculpt again. Maybe she’d better go find Jesus Christ on his bicycle and make a different request.
_*_
Alice climbed on a city bus. Teenagers scattered among the empty seats called in nonsense language to each other. They might have been having fun, but she was frightened of them and wouldn’t look back to see what they were doing. Her heart beat hard, again. In her ears. In her throat. She pulled the cord. A buzzer sounded. She ran to the front and jumped off the bus. Walking into a neighborhood bar, Alice smelled rancid booze and remembered she was an alcoholic. She ordered a 7up from a busty redhead and asked for change to make a phone call. Alice couldn’t find a telephone or get into the bathroom, so she sucked down the 7-up and left. A man shouted, “Leaving so soon?” She didn’t look back.
_*_
Union 76’s orange ball announced a gas station across the street and two blocks down. Alice sipped shallow breaths. Her ears felt pinched--pulled into her head from a tightening screw. Who should she call? What should she do? As she strode by the gas pumps, the station’s lights went off. It’s like the domes on the harbor. This time, she didn’t know how to play the game. Someone must be watching her, messing with her. She stepped into the telephone booth. Her fingers’ memory punched out a number. An electronic woman said, “Seventy-five cents please. That will be seventy-five cents for the first three minutes.”
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