May 26, 2020
Review, Edit and Update:
This review of A Blind Side reveals more concerns about the effects of this Covid19 pandemic. In this case for one single woman, Desperanza Eliot, who is a main character in this little saga. In the early days of isolation, many people have shared these concerns.
This writer has improved sentence structure, added some detail and improved punctuation. No typos!
A Blind Side
On the other hand, Dez had always known where she belonged. That is until she felt a restless feeling. Persistent. Like an itch that needs scratching but can’t be reached. I don’t belong here anymore. When those words whispered, then echoed in her head, it was like she started to wake up. She would be the first person to tell anyone that would listen that she had made some gigantic mistakes. With a big laugh, or maybe shaking her head, she would describe, in minute detail to friends, how she’d jumped from the proverbial frying pan into a raging bonfire. And I did that more than once. Can you believe that? I don’t seem to ever learn. But I’ve had a lot of fun along the way. Feeling that itchy restless feeling for quite sometime now, she hadn’t yet found where to scratch. One thing she was gradually learning was to start paying close attention to her life.
This Covid19 thing had blindsided her just as it had blindsided the rest of the world. But Dez knew that she couldn’t fix the rest of the world. She had things to take care of in her own life first. She and Emmie were as silent on the way back to Hartley as talkative on the way out to ‘The Mansion’. Dez had told Emmie that, together, they could fix Emmie’s situation. Those words had slipped out of her mouth before she even knew she was saying them. That nonsense about an artists’ retreat or bed and breakfast. Neither one of them knew anything about running even a small operation. And she had her own life to fix.
Dez was faced with losing her apartment. Monthly rent plus possibly no job didn’t balance in her favour. It would be ok until government restrictions were lifted. But what about after that? Would the job still be there? She didn’t really want that particular job, but Dez knew that she may have no choice. It wasn’t like she was seventeen anymore and could drift around easily from job to job.
Dez had been home for couple of hours when the phone rang. Her increasingly maudlin thoughts would have to wait. No Caller ID showed on the green digital display on her phone. Should she answer it? Dez wasn’t sure. She hadn’t been in touch with anyone recently, except for Emmie and her employees. Only Emmie had her phone number. And the police. They wouldn’t be calling her, would they?
“Hello. Who is this?” Dez tried to sound abrupt and decidedly unfriendly.
“Miss Eliot? Desperanza Eliot?” It was a male voice. He didn’t sound like a telemarketer. But Dez was suspicious ~ ready to hang up at the first hint of a sales call.
“Yes. That’s me. Who are you?”
“This is Kevin at the Impound. Glad I caught ya' at home. I got your phone number from the police when they towed your car in. Can ya' come down to the Lot early in the morning to get your car? We’re have to close for a spell and we’re tryin' to get as many vehicles out a’here as possible. Don’t know when we’ll be reopening. People really need their wheels.” It was pretty late to be getting this kind of a phone call, but she wasn’t about to ask him why. She didn’t want to encourage him to get chatty. Dez was tired and really didn’t really feel like being a sympathetic listener.
“Sure thing, Kevin. What time do you open?”
“We’re open sharp at eight in the morning. If I’m not here, Jim’ll be here and he can help ya' out. Oh, yeah, remember to bring your driver’s license with you. I probably don’t need to remind ya' but I always do because, can you believe it, some people actually forget that they’ll be driving out of here and I can’t give ‘em their car til they show me their license.”
“Ok Kevin, I’ll be there between eight and eight thirty. What’s your phone number there?” Dez grabbed the watercolour pencil from the kitchen counter, balanced her cell phone between her shoulder and her ear and scrawled the number on a torn piece of watercolour paper. Catching the phone before it slid to the floor, she said a quick good bye to Kevin.
Well that will be one thing off my list. Dez mentally reviewed what tomorrow would bring for her. I’ll probably have to get gas right after I get my car. I’ll just get a take out coffee and go to the park while I wait for the E.I. office to open. Dez was not especially worried about would be next for her. She really liked the apartment and would hate to give it up. Stepping out on her little balcony with the white wrought iron railings, she pulled her nubbly purple sweater close around her in the cool evening air. I guess I am a little bit worried. Dez let that thought do its slow creep forward. Too many times she had walked up to brick walls, always finding a way through or around them. Am I about to do that again? Dez tipped her head back and let out a silent groan. Again?! Determined, she stood up, paced the length of the balcony. All six feet of it. Dez felt like she belonged here in this apartment and even more so since she found that Emmie just lived five miles out of town. Her sister, whom she thought she’d never see again and didn’t even really know where she lived, was only five miles away. She had carried her phone number for years but never used it until the night when she needed a place to go. Why had this all become so difficult? She was restless, but she wanted to remain where she was. She wanted to work, but didn’t think she still had a job. The only thing she could be sure of right now was that she would go to pick up her car in the morning. At least she had enough money to fill up the gas tank. With a big sigh, she turned and went back into her cosy living room. Plopping down on the softly floral couch, Dez kicked her shoes off, put her feet up on the coffee table and picked up the latest issue of Artist’s Brush. Settling into the corner of the couch, she shifted her feet from the table, one leg stretched out, the other tucked beneath her. Holding the glossy art magazine loosely with one hand, she pulled the deep gold lap blanket over her legs. Dez smiled and settled even more deeply into the couch. Just call me Scarlet O’Hara. I’ll think about all that other stuff in the morning.
"There has to be something in every role that interests you."
~ Clint Eastwood
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