Okay, world....here it is, my short story. I'm no Faulkner, Cather, or Boyle, but I'm just getting back in the game, you know. Please enjoy. (and students, if you turn this in for a short fiction writing assignment, your plagiarizing little fingers will curl up, turn purple, start to smell like skunk, and most likely fall off...don't say I didn't warn you!)A thin layer of dust lay on the large glass picture window, its presence revealed by the warm afternoon light. Mr. McGreevy noticed the dust and slowly wiped the glass with his shirt sleeve, his fist balled as he made multiple attempts to clear the surface. As McGreevy cleaned the window, Cookie stood there, straight and tall. She was facing the window and the streaks of dust that remained. Her eyes were vacant and dark. McGreevy now stood behind Cookie, his hands on her shoulders, looking over her to the street beyond the window.
With a deep sigh, McGreevy said, “Well, I guess it’s that time again,” meaning that the season was changing right before their eyes.
Beyond the large picture window, leaves fell like sheets of rain, following the pattern of the wind. Autumn always snuck up on McGreevy, who often let the lingering Alabama heat convince him that the summer season may never end. McGreevy left Cookie to retrieve a sweater, light scarf, and hat from the coat closet behind him.
As he opened the small closet door, clothing on hangers sprung forward, as if pleading for use. The closet was stuffed with a profuse collection of women’s clothing. Sweaters, coats, scarves, pants, skirts, summer bathing attire, and a fading velveteen Santa Claus suit rested on hangers, suspended in awkward flat postures. McGreevy used both of his hands and a good push to get the clothing to return to its dark and crowded home. Cookie stood silently as he made his way back to her at the window and stood behind her. The autumn light was casting a warm glow about Cookie and it instantly put McGreevy in a romantic mood.
“Do you remember when I first laid my eyes upon you? I knew right then and there that I had to have you, my little Christmas Cookie,” cooed McGreevy.
McGreevy’s comments did not change the expression on Cookie’s face. Cookie, of course, was not her name, but McGreevy started calling her that shortly after their initial meeting, since it had been during the Christmas season. McGreevy tossed the sweater, scarf and hat on a nearby chair. He placed his large hands upon her shoulders and slowly bent down until his nose was nestled deeply in the angle of Cookie’s neck. He inhaled deeply, taking in Cookie’s scent, and bit her neck playfully. This gesture caused McGreevy to get long strands of Cookie’s hair in his mouth and he laughed as he extracted the copper-colored curls from his tongue. McGreevy smoothed her hair and gave Cookie a brief embrace before turning her to face him.
“It’s not getting any warmer, so I guess we better get you ready. Is this jacket okay? I picked it out for you because I know that green is your favorite color. This shade matches your eyes so perfectly,” said McGreevy in a syrupy tone.
He placed the arm holes of the jacket low enough for Cookie’s hands and slid it carefully up her arms. The lapel had gotten wrinkled from being crammed in the closet among all of the other clothing. Noticing this, McGreevy took his large hand and did his best to smooth out the wrinkle. He then retrieved the loosely woven tan wool scarf and wrapped it around her shoulders. He was careful not to trap her long auburn curls under it. McGreevy praised Cookie’s hair above all of her other features and often encouraged her to show it off.
“It may be a little too warm for the hat just yet. How about we keep it in your pocket, just in case,” said McGreevy.
With that, McGreevy pushed a light green crocheted tam in the large front pocket of her jacket.
“Let me get a good look at you,” said McGreevy as he backed up a few steps. “You look beautiful. Then again, you always look beautiful.”
Outside of the window, from the street, two women looked on as McGreevy fussed over Cookie, dressing her and smoothing her hair. The woman had been walking rapidly, pumping their arms as they strode down the street, but slowed their pace as they approached McGreevy’s house. The women were both dressed in track suits, made out of a fabric that crinkled loudly when they moved, and both holding small hand weights. Both suits, one yellow and one navy blue, had patterns of neon flowers that ran down the length of the arms and legs. The woman in the yellow track suit rolled her eyes and sighed loudly as she saw McGreevy and Cookie in the window. They paused to watch the couple behind the glass, feigning the need to stretch their muscles.
“Can you believe that weirdo? I’ve never actually caught him in the act before.” said the lady in yellow to the lady in navy blue, in a winded tone.
“What’s his story, anyway?” asked the lady in blue, gulping for air. “Bill & I have only been here for three months, but we’ve obviously noticed her,” she said, pointing up at Cookie with a teal hand weight.
The women no longer made an effort to conceal their spying since McGreevy was singularly focused on his companion. Though not walking forward, the ladies pranced in place as they watched.
“I heard,” said the lady in yellow, pausing to swallow, “that he found her in a classified ad. Yeah, he totally lost it when his wife died. Apparently, he needed some company, so he moved her in. She’s been here for three years now.”
“Is it true that he dresses her up for all of the seasons? Changes her outfits?” asked the lady in blue.
“Oh, yeah. It’s bathing suits in summer, sweaters in winter, a Santa suit at Christmas. The sicko even dresses her up in lingerie during Valentine’s. The neighborhood counsel has tried to do something about the situation, but we can’t seem to find a clause to prevent weirdos from dressing up mannequins in their picture windows.”
“Well, I sure hope she can cook,” laughed the lady in blue as they resumed their power walking.
“So do, I,” said the lady in yellow, “So....do....I.”
1 comment:
fantastic!
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