In search of daughters lost…

Yesterday found me working on my new house all afternoon. I spent time smoothing and sanding the joint compound that hides the joints and nail impressions in the drywall in preparation for painting my bathroom and kitchen. I finally grew tired and turned a bucket upside down and sat upon it as I admired my handiwork.

“This home is all mine,” I thought with a feeling of pride and awe.

I still can’t believe I have a home that is paid for and that I will always have a place to live.
“I heard from my mother a few years ago that she was in jail for possession of a controlled substance with intent to sell. That has been maybe five years ago. I don’t know if she is still in jail. I haven’t heard a word about her since. My mother is dead now. She used to write her all the time.”
Jimmy James, my workman, showed up in the afternoon to start building the steps adjoining my laundry room. He came walking inside carrying two very large bottles of cheap wine and put them in my fridge to chill.

“I work better after a few drinks,” He said.

“Two bottles of wine are more than just a few drinks,” I replied amused.

“I used to could drink a case of beer a day,” He said. “And it never stopped me from doing a good job or showing up for work.”

“Why did you quit?”

“I got married.”

I laughed. Rachel never could control my drinking despite her most fanatical efforts. When I got tired of her nagging, I would pack up all my camping gear and disappear off to our many acres of land in God’s country for a week or two at a time. She would eventually come and find me and drag me home. I was never more miserable than being around that woman. She was a completely different person within a month after we had gotten married. My father likes to joke that she drove me into being an alcoholic. Rachel was a pretty intense little lady.

“I’ll put in the dog door tomorrow for Maggie,” Jimmy said bringing me out of my deep thoughts of marriages past.

“Thanks,” I replied as paid him in advance the forty dollars for today’s work.

I left Jimmy James to continue building those steps and drove over to the shopping center to see what the gang was up to. I saw my favorite of the gang, Rosa, walking down from the grocery store. I pulled up in the fire lane, got her attention, and said, “Hey good lookin’. You need a ride?”

Rosa smiled and walked over and got in my car. I drove us down to Sonic to get us both a cherry limeade, my favorite Sonic drink.

“How does someone on disability afford a car this nice?” Rosa said speaking of my 2001 Honda CR-V as we drove down highway 29 to finally arrive at Sonic.

“It was a gift,” I said as I parked. “I gave my old beat up 1990 Geo Tracker to a poor high school kid who wouldn’t have been able to afford a car. He’s cleaned it up and it looks nice these days considered it was manufactured the year I graduated from high school.”

“I wish someone would give me a car,” Rosa said with an air of jealousy in her voice as she drank her limeade. “You are lucky as hell.”

We sat for a few moments until we finished our drinks. I was about to crank up the car and head back over to the shopping center to drop Rosa back off.

“You get on the internet, don’t you?” She asked.

“I spend too much time on the ‘net,” I replied.

“Do you think we could find my daughter on it?” Rosa asked. “I would just like to know she is okay.”

“We could try,” I replied. “Do you know if she is married? I would need to know her current last name.”

“I heard from my mother a few years ago that she was in jail for possession of a controlled substance with intent to sell. That has been maybe five years ago. I don’t know if she is still in jail. I haven’t heard a word about her since. My mother is dead now. She used to write her all the time.”

“We could always try,” I said as I pulled back onto the highway and headed for downtown.

“You know about George saying you are crazy the other day,” She said changing the subject from less weighty issues. “You don’t act crazy at all.”

“Thanks,” I replied. “I take some medications that keep me in check.”

“I am going to kick that son of a bitch’s ass the next time I see him for telling people that,” Rosa told me very animatedly.

“George was just drunk,” I said. “He probably doesn’t even remember doing it.”

I finally pulled back into the parking lot of the shopping center. Rosa got out and stood at my door.

“I better see you tomorrow,” She said. “Walk down and we will smoke a few cigarettes and shoot the shit. I want to try one of those highbrow expensive British smokes I gave you. Dan wants to see you as well. You keep missing him.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow if it is not too cold,” I said and drove on home.