My husband got a new job in a new town. It was a very small town. He had rented a small condominium ranch in a group of about twenty of these. A forest surrounded the condominiums. I drove up from Detroit to this small town. The kids were grown and capable without me. I can’t say the same about myself. I woke up on Friday morning to the sound of him showering. I poured myself coffee that he had made and sat at a small table to drink it. My husband dressed for work in a suit and tie and sat down on the bed to put on his shoes and tie them. He had a gulp of my coffee and said he would be home in time for dinner in town. I held my breath, and wanted to say “What town?” He headed for the door and exited. I had no idea where he went. I saw the tangle of my hair and my horrible nightgown in a mirror on the wall. I had packed one outfit with underwear. I drank my coffee and took the clothes into the bathroom so I could shower and dress. Once dressed I paced around the tiny living space and tried to imagine how life would be like in this unknown area. I decided that I could control the living space and I made the bed. I wet a dirty t-shirt and dusted every flat surface. Under the kitchen sink was a small plastic bottle of dish soap. This was good for the coffee cups and a cereal bowl with a spoon. I used the t-shirt to clean the bathroom. Then I threw the t-shirt into the waste can. “Now that he has a job, I can buy him a new one.” I said out loud. My voice disappeared in the silence of that condominium, that forest, that “town.” I missed my cat.

I took my nightgown and underwear from the night and put them in the small backpack I had. I looked in the refrigerator and there were some questionable items in there that needed to not be eaten. I put these into the waste can and gathered it up and tied its red plastic ties. I put it next to the door. I sprayed the condominium with my husband’s deodorant spray. Then I grabbed the waste bag and opened the door. The air was much colder than it was at home. I looked to the right and saw the rest of the condominiums lined up in two rows. I saw no people, no pets, no cars. I walked to the end of the complex and I heard the sound from what looked like a small factory. We had lived in another small town when we were first married and it had a pickle factory. I could smell the pickles and hear the clinking of the glass jars. This factory made a” trogoda, tragoda, tragoda sound.” No smell. I saw a large garbage bin. I let the door to the condominium close, and I walked to the garbage bin and threw out the waste bag. I was chilled to the bone, but I took my time outside to see if there was anyone else alive there. There was no one. I went to the condominium he had rented and turned the front door knob.

It did not open. It was locked. I searched for a key outside: under the door mat, over the door frame, in the composted soil that held a round, bush. I tried the bigger of the two front windows. That would not open. The second window was smaller and hard to reach. I saw a concrete block under the bush. I moved it under the window and stepped on it. It brought my head and neck up high enough to see that it was the bedroom. I grabbed the side of the window frame and pulled it hard to the right…hoping it would open.

It did! I was on my tip- toes. I threw my arms inside onto the bed. I talked to myself. I knew that I would hurt myself dragging myself somehow over that window’s frame. I grabbed the bedspread, jumped up, and pulled. I was right. I hurt myself getting into the condominium that way. I hoped to God that it would stay unoccupied outside because my butt and legs were hanging out of that window. I grabbed the pillows to give me more purchase, and I had to kick and wiggle my way onto that bed. It was a very small victory in a very small town. I saw the key on the kitchen table. Exhausted and cold, I kicked off my shoes and tucked myself into bed. I fell asleep.

I stayed in the bed until my husband came home. He asked, “Did you sleep all day?””

“NO!” was what I said. Curious, I lifted up my sweater. The window frame had scraped my whole chest raw. “What happened?” Well, I just wrote what happened.