Jettie Woodruff - Underestimated

I drove to the furniture store first. I couldn’t believe the prices. I had twenty-five thousand dollars in pre-paid visa cards to buy everything that I needed, and I wasn’t going to spend near what I thought I would. I was pleasantly surprised at the quality. The dining room table that I had picked out would have cost me probably five times as much back in Las, I mean Indiana. I ended up buying more than what was even on my list. I hadn’t planned on buying an area rug, a desk, television or coffee and end tables. I got everything that I needed for a fraction of what I had planned on spending.

I was on cloud nine, up until it was time to pay that is. I was standing at the counter, and the older man asked for my last name.

Dammit. What is it? I was drawing a blank. I had the Riley part, but the last name just wasn’t registering. I could feel my face becoming flush when I didn’t answer right away. He stood in front of me, awkwardly wondering why I wasn’t answering.

“Murphy,” I almost yelled, when it finally came to me. He gave me a funny look and turned back to his computer screen.

I finished giving him my information, and we had delivery setup for the following day. I would still have to sleep on the floor for one more night, but I was okay with that. I would much rather clean in the empty rooms than try to clean around furniture. I would at least have curtains over the windows.

I went to Potter’s next, and spent more time than I should have in there. I was so thankful that Millie had told me about it. The prices there too, surprised me, and I bought everything that I needed, and then some. I found the cutest set of dishes and couldn’t help thinking about the exquisite china back in Indiana. Drew would have never eaten off of plates like that. They were white, and although I hated the bright yellow walls back at the house, the cute little yellow ducklings circling the plates and saucers were adorable. I wondered then if I had bought everything that Drew would hate on purpose.

I was so excited. I could hardly contain myself. I had stolen, well not actually stolen, we were married. I had taken a microscopic amount of his money. Drew probably hadn’t even figured that part out yet. I honestly didn’t want anything of his. I would have walked away and slept on the floor for months had Ms. K not convinced me to take what was rightfully mine. Boy was I ever grateful that she did. Now that I think about it, she didn’t really give me a choice in the matter. I was taking the money.

Buying the house was a little more difficult. It took me almost six months to embezzle the eighty six thousand dollars that Drew would never find. I had added between fifteen and eighteen thousand dollars to different overhead expenses for six straight months. The first couple of months I was paranoid, no I was terrified that he was going to catch it, but he never did. Stupid bastard shouldn’t have been so credulous. I knew exactly where the key to his office was. It was rather simple to add bits and pieces to his overhead, donate to a made-up worthy cause, and a delightful fat scholarship, sending me to the University of Misty Bay. I had actually found a couple of ways to change things a little to save him some money, without him knowing of course.

I counted. It took me nine trips to unload my overstuffed Honda Civic. I stacked everything in the corner of the living room and would move it as needed. It took up half the room, and once again I forgot to eat. I wondered if there was a pizza delivery. Why would it even matter? I didn’t have a phonebook, and the pre-paid phone that Ms. K had given me only had seven minutes left on it. I wasn’t planning on using it, and Ms. K had already told me that we would end all contact once I had left Indiana. I was to pitch the phone out the window before I arrived.

My heart all of a sudden dropped to my feet when there was a knock on the door. Nobody knows me here. Who would be looking for me here? What did they want? I was pulled from my frozen paranoia by the second knock.

Stop it, Morg, I mean Riley. I said quietly but out loud as I made my way to the door.

“Hi. I’m Lauren. I live in the uglier than your blue house, across the road,” my new neighbor said, introducing herself.

I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Riley, but everyone calls me Ry.” I was smiling to myself when I remembered that aspect of my new life. I had forgotten to mention that to Millie earlier.

“Wow, it looks like you have your work cut out for you,” she observed peeking around me.

I suddenly realized that I was being rude. “Come in,” I offered. “I really don’t have a seat to offer or anything to drink,” I teased.

Lauren walked through the door. “Wow, the inside paint is worse than the outside,” she stated, and I laughed. “I forgot how bright it was in here.”

She must have been in here before.

“That will be altered tonight,” I assured her.

“I have a friend that does construction if you want his number.”

“Maybe for the outside, the inside has got to be done tonight. I have furniture coming by noon tomorrow,” All of a sudden I comprehended how much I had to do and what little time I had to do it. I was happy to have a neighbor, and I thought Lauren, and I would become friends. I just didn’t want to be her friend at that moment. I had too much to do.

“Well I won’t keep you,” she said, and I was glad.

The first thing I did was fill the mop bucket with hot sudsy lemon cleaner. I smiled. The yellow paint with the citrus, lemony smell made perfect companions.

It was almost four o’clock in the evening, and I really, really wanted to get the yellow painted over before my furniture came the next day. I had planned on painting the living room as soon as the walls were washed down, but decided to go ahead and wash the kitchen down as well that way I could continue painting and get that done too.

The living room took fifty seven minutes. Five o’clock. I was hungry. Why the hell was I forgetting about food so much? Oh, yeah because I am used to having meals prepared and waiting on me. That was another one that I would have to get used to.

The kitchen had taken longer than I had anticipated because of having to clean all of the cabinets. It was now almost seven. I was still hungry. I sat on the floor leaned up against the glass door. I had already moved the ugly plastic tables and chairs out to the deck. I was eating crumbs from the bottom of a two day old Cheetos bag when someone was at the door again.

Once again my heart sank. Why didn’t I lock the door? Lauren didn’t wait for me to answer that time and opened the door, causing me to freeze in a panic.

“Relax,” she said, seeing my shocked paralyzed face and stiff posture.

I smiled when I noticed her carrying a large pizza and a six pack of beer. She had changed clothes and was now wearing old jeans with a pink checkered flannel shirt. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back and hiding underneath a tied bandanna.

My mouth was already salivating. Pizza, just what I needed. Not so much the beer. I had never liked beer. I was more of a wine kind of girl. No. Wait a minute. I drank wine because that was what Drew drank. Have I ever had beer? Yes. I did. I was thirteen, and some friends and I hid under a bridge, and I drank one. Did I like it? I didn’t remember.

“You are my new best friend,” I told Lauren, patting the wood floor next to me. I didn’t mind wasting twenty minutes. I needed food, and pizza was just what the doctor ordered. That would definitely make me feel better, and I would probably work faster, having some nourishment and regenerated energy.

We sat side by side, leaned against the glass doors and shared a pizza. Lauren probably thought I was a pig. I think I swallowed the first piece whole. I did drink a beer, and I didn’t mind it a bit. I wouldn’t say that I loved it, but it was okay.