Tuesday Born on a Wednesday

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Photo by Taras Makarenko on Pexels.com

A short story By Christina D. Puntigam

Prefer to have it read to you? Find it online by clicking here.

Tuesday picked up her hairbrush and used it as a microphone to sing along with the radio. Catching sight of herself in the mirror she paused to put another layer of hairspray on her bangs. Setting down the big bottle of Aqua Net, she continued singing along with Tracy Chapman.

There was a banging on her door, “Turn that noise down and stop that singing!” her mother shouted from the other side.  “If you can even call it that,” her mother’s venom seeped through the door as Tuesday turned off the radio. She grabbed her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, checking her fake Swatch that barely kept time, and realized she needed to hurry if she was going to get to school on time.

Leaving her room, she headed down the hallway, avoiding her parents’ bedroom where her mother lay coiled in her bed, she turned towards the door to leave. He called to her from the table before she could make it outside. She turned to face the familiar sight of her father at the table. He was in his uniform, khaki pants, solid blue unbuttoned short sleeve shirt, stained undershirt showing, full ashtray next to a rumpled pack of Winstons. He took a drag from his cigarette and asked her, “Where you headed?” breathing out smoke like a dragon.

“School,” she said, hoping it would be enough to get her out the door.

“You still go to school, huh? Ain’t you eighteen already? You should be working already. When I was your age, I had two jobs.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered, feeling the sting on her legs from the last time she’d forgotten to add sir.

“Listen, before you come home today, make sure you stop by and pick me up some fresh smokes and a pack of beer.”

“I don’t have any money,” she lied.

He squinted at her, his nostrils flared, for a moment she thought fire might come out of them. Instead, he rested his cigarette on the ashtray and reached into his pocket that always carried change and tossed a crumpled bill on the table. “Make sure you bring me my change.”

She nodded, scooped up the bill and headed out the door. When she stepped outside, she thought about the words to the song she’d been singing. “You got a fast car. And I want a ticket to anywhere.” She could use a fast car right about now.

That afternoon, after she counted money from selling candy at lunch, she hid it in her backpack in a secret compartment she made between the lining and exterior. She still had her dad’s crumpled bill. She stepped into the corner store and went to the cooler to pick up a six pack. Setting it on the counter she asked for a pack of cigarettes.

“I can’t sell these to you,” Joe said behind the counter.

“What? Why not? I’ve been buying these for my dad since I was barely old enough to walk,” she said laying the money down on the counter.

“Sorry, Tutti, the boss is working with the cops to crack down on fake ids. If I sell them to you then you’re going to walk out that door, they’ll ask you for ID, and they’re going to arrest you. Shoot, they’ll arrest me, too,” he nodded his head towards the two guys sitting in a sedan near the front door.

She looked at the two guys, down at the beer, and back to Joe. “Being arrested might be better than going home without it,” she said.

Joe winced, he’d been around long enough to know. “It’s no win either way?”

“At least in jail, I might get a meal, right?” looking back at the car again.

“But,” before Joe could stop her, she picked up the beer, left the store with it. She cradled it in her arms like a baby and walked right by the guys in the car, making eye contact with the one in the driver’s seat. She walked slowly across the parking lot, waiting for them to stop her. Breaking off one of the cans from the six pack, she popped the top and took a swig. The taste made her gag, she wondered why her father drank these. She took another drink anyway. Turning to see if the cops were coming for her yet. They were getting out of their car. She raised the can as if to toast them. “Give me a keg of beer!” she shouted sitting on the curb. She downed the rest of the beer and popped open another one before they made it to her.

Being arrested wasn’t nearly as exciting as it looked in the movies. That second beer she chugged before they put her in cuffs wasn’t playing well with her lack of breakfast and lunch. The smell in the cell made her stomach lurch a little, she ran to the toilet and spewed.

“I hope you ain’t contagious,” said the other woman in the cell.

“Not unless stupid is catching,” Tuesday said wiping the back of her hand across her face.

“Child, stupid is worse. What did you do?” the lady asked studying her nails.

Getting up and sitting on the bench opposite the woman, “I messed around so I could find out, what’s it to you?”

“You got a real mouth on you, don’t you?” the woman said, offering her a small brown bag. Tuesday peered inside, discovered peppermints and took one to help settle her stomach. “What did you find out then?”

“So far that beer tastes gross.”

The lady hummed in agreement.

“What about you?” Tuesday asked as her churning stomach settled.

“I messed around and found out, too,” the lady said with a laugh. “How come ya momma and daddy ain’t here to get you?”

“They told the cops to keep me,” Tuesday wished it had been a lie. She’d never been in trouble before at school or anywhere other than at home. She’d hoped that maybe they were just being mean, but it had been long enough that if they were coming for her, they would have.

“Pretty girl like you, surely there’s a boyfriend or something that can come get you.”

“Nope,” Tuesday answered.

The lady hummed again. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Tuesday.”

“Let me guess, day you were born?”

“Yeah,” she said rolling her eyes, “What about you, what’s your name? And how come they let you have mints?”

“They know me round here,” she shrugged, “Most my girls just call me Auntie,” as she moved to the bench beside Tuesday.

“Auntie, I like that,” Tuesday said as she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.

When Tuesday woke up, the cell was empty, and someone was opening the door. “Get up, your bail has been posted.” She sprung up from the bench and ran to the door. “Not so fast, kid, there’s paperwork to take care of.”

“Oh, okay,” Tuesday said, following the officer. When she finally stepped outside it was morning and the last thing she wanted was to go back to school or home.

“Hey, Tuesday,” called a woman’s voice from a car at the curb.

“Auntie?” she asked going to the open driver’s side window.

“You know it, girl, get in let’s get some breakfast. Jail always makes me hungry.” Auntie leaned across the leather seats and opened the passenger side door. “She ain’t fast but she’ll get you where you need to be.”

Tuesday walked around the car to get in, thinking about how she probably needed to call her parents. As she reached for the door, she felt a strike across her face. When she looked to see where it came from, her mother’s hand was poised to strike again.

“This is all your fault!” she hissed.

“Momma,” Tuesday stepped towards her overwhelmed with the desire to be comforted. Her mother recoiled. “What did I do?” Tuesday asked touching her tender cheek.

“If you hadn’t been so stupid, then your dad wouldn’t have got so mad and kicked us both out the house. Don’t even bother going back, nothing there for you, he burned all your stuff in the front yard.”

“But,” Tuesday began.

“I’m done with you, too. I hope I never see you again.” And with those last biting words her mother turned and slithered away.

“You alright,” Auntie asked from inside the car. It had all happened so fast that Tuesday wasn’t sure.

“Uh,” she managed to say seeing the open door of the car and deciding to get in. She had nowhere else to go.

Auntie drove them to a small diner, they sat at the counter. The floor was sticky, and she wasn’t sure if the man in the corner was asleep or dead. The waitress tossed menus in front of them. “Whatayahave?” she barked while pouring them each a cup of coffee.

“What ever you want, kid, breakfast is on me.”

Tuesday realized that she was starving. “I have some money,” she said thinking of the cash she’d hidden in her backpack.

“Nope, I got it,” lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. “I really should quit but there’s just something about that Marlboro man that gets me every time. Mm mmm.”

Auntie offered her a black cigarette with a gold tip tucked neatly in an engraved metal case. Tuesday shook her head no. The image of her dad filling her mind, like a factory pouring smoke and foul air everywhere.

Their food came and she ate it so quickly she barely tasted it. “That was so good, I wish I could eat it all again.”

“Get another one you could use a little extra meat on ya bones.”

Tuesday thought about her offer and said, “No, thank you, I don’t think I could hold any more at the moment.”

“Okay,” Auntie said signaling for the bill. “You got some place to be? Need me to drop you off?”

“I don’t know. My mom said not to go home, she said they’re done with me. Don’t got any other family.”

Stubbing her cigarette in the ashtray, “You can come stay with me. I’ll just put it on your tab,” Auntie laughed. “I gotta check in with someone before we leave. I’ll be right back.” The lady got up and went to the payphone at the back of the diner. As she was talking, she turned and looked at Tuesday and shook her head. She wondered what type of woman Auntie really was. Was it safe for her to go with her. Maybe it would be better if she just took off on her own. Maybe a teacher or guidance counselor at school could help her out. Before she could make a decision, Auntie was there.

“All right, that’s all taken care of. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

The two drove across town to a small boutique clothing store, one that Tuesday had window shopped before but never had the nerve or money to go inside. They walked in together. “We’re here!” Auntie called as they entered. A short smart dressed woman bustled from the back.

“Oh good! I’ve pulled some clothes already,” taking a critical look at Tuesday, “I think you were right on about the sizes.” She turned quickly and headed back where she’d come from. When Tuesday didn’t follow, she stopped, turned, put her hand on her hip and asked, “Are you coming or not?”

“It’s okay,” Auntie said, “I’ve got this.” When Tuesday slowly began following the clerk to the back of the store Auntie added with a laugh, “I’ll put in on your tab!”

In the dressing room, the clerk had a whole new wardrobe waiting for Tuesday including new underclothes. Some were casual enough to wear to school, others made her feel like a real adult. After she tried them all on and the clerk changed out a few for different color choices. Tuesday took one outfit and some underclothes to the counter.

“That’s it?” Auntie asked. She looked to the clerk, “We’ll take it all.”

“What? No, I can’t afford all that. I can’t afford this!” Tuesday said in a panic.

“I got this, Tuesday, don’t worry,” she added.

Tuesday thought about how many candy bars she’d have to sell to pay for all of the clothes. They were beautiful but it felt like too much. She wanted to protest again but remembered her manners, “Thank you, ma’am. I really appreciate it.”

After the boutique, they drove to Auntie’s house. Tuesday watched as they pulled up to a gate and Auntie spoke to a security guard in a small building. The gate opened and they drove in.

“Is this where you live?” Tuesday asked seeing all the beautiful homes that lined the street. She’d never seen houses so big before. She couldn’t even imagine how many people must live in them. She’d grown up in a tiny two-bedroom row house and her parents had friends stay over on the couch all the time. It was crowded, loud, and drafty in the winter. These houses looked like mansions.

They pulled up to one, the garage opened with an automatic door. Tuesday had never been in a house so fancy before. They were greeted at the door by a cute Pomeranian puppy that Auntie scooped up and gave kisses to.

“Let me show you your room and you can get settled, maybe take a shower and get that night in jail washed off, put on a new outfit.”

The bedroom was almost as large as her family’s entire house, the attached bathroom the size of her bedroom. The bed was huge and covered in a comforter and tons of matching pillows.

“If you need anything, just use the intercom,” Auntie said pointing to a box on the wall.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Tuesday asked.

“I’m nice to all my girls,” Auntie said with a wink, “And I’ve got a special arrangement with someone. He lets me use all this as long as I share it with others when he asks.”

“Oh,” Tuesday said, not sure if she liked the sound of that.

“Get cleaned up, take a nap, whatever you need. If you get thirsty or hungry, there’s plenty of food and drinks in the kitchen downstairs.”

With that, Tuesday was alone. She kicked off her shoes and set her backpack down and flopped onto the bed. It smelled like some flower she couldn’t quite place. It was, what’s the word she was thinking of, yes luxurious. Or better yet decadent. She decided to take a shower and then a nap.

She woke up to a gentle knocking on the door, “Tuesday, you up?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she croaked.

“I brought you some water, thought you might be thirsty.”

She got up and opened the door inviting her in, “Yes, please.” Tuesday took the glass of water and went to sit back on the bed. Auntie sat in an armchair tucked into one of the corners of the bedroom.

Tuesday took a sip of the water; it was sweet and cold without being too cold. It had to be the most delicious water she’d ever tasted. She didn’t even know water could taste. Before she got lost down the rabbit hole of how water can be delicious, Auntie spoke up.

“I told you earlier; I’ve got a special arrangement with someone. I was curious if you would be interested in meeting him.”

She choked on her sip. Unsure of what type of man would make arrangements with a woman that found herself in jail and picked up fellow inmates to give them clothes, food, and a place to stay. She wondered if she had been kidnapped. But then reasoned that if this is what being kidnapped was, it was a thousand times better than her ordinary life. “I guess so, sure,” Tuesday said taking another drink of water.

It was a Wednesday evening and they drove out to the old night club on the edge of town. Her parents used to talk about this place being full of liars, cheats, and tricksters, so much so that they had to close it down. For a closed down night club, the parking lot was packed. Auntie said hello to everyone as they went, briefly introducing her to a few people. They all gave Tuesday a knowing look as she passed by. When they finally made it to the main gathering space music was playing. It was loud, loud enough that she could feel it in her bones. She started to sway with the rest of the crowd. Even though she didn’t know any of the songs she found herself humming, trying to pick up the words to sing along. Closing her eyes, the music washed over her and carried her along.

The music eventually quieted and a man in sharp suit with a vest and tie got up to the microphone. Tuesday leaned over to Auntie, “Is that him?”

She shook her head, “Just wait.”

He asked if everyone could take a moment to find a seat, he had a few things he wanted to share. Finding a spot in the back, Tuesday saw him take out an old, tattered book. He began talking and reading from the book. The words he said were hard to focus on. They didn’t make any sense. He read again from the tattered book and repeated it, “For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.” Tuesday looked up to Auntie that was now standing beside her with hands raised in the air saying, “Amen.”

In the last day, Auntie had done all those things for her and more. She had wondered why but this man seemed to be saying it was because of someone named Jesus. Where was he, how could she meet him?

The man at the front closed the book and looked out over the crowd and asked, “Who here is curious about this Jesus? This man that calls us to love one another, that visits us when we’re in prison, feeds us when we’re hungry, adopts us orphans as his own. Who here is curious?”

The word orphan rang in her ears. Her parents had abandoned her, she was that orphan that needed a family to care for and love her. Tears began to roll down her face.

He spoke again, “Who here wants to know this Jesus? Just step forward and let us pray for you that you can let this Jesus, the one who loves you, let him into your heart. He doesn’t need you to be sure, just curious about who he is.”

Tuesday found herself pulled by some unknown force towards the man. She felt as if she were blind and stumbling towards the only light that she could sense in the darkness. “I want to know him,” Tuesday said when she found herself in front of the man with the microphone.

“What’s your name, sister?”

“Tuesday,” she told him

“Tuesday, we’re all going to pray for you, feel free to join us if the Spirit moves you.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, feeling a gentle hand on her shoulder and then another and another. The man began to pray and the others joined him. Their words flowed over her.

She didn’t know when she’d fallen to her knees but she found herself there when amens and hallelujahs began cascading into her heart. She felt different, lighter, freer. The man asked if anyone there knew her as he helped Tuesday stand up. Auntie was there beside her. “I do,” she said.

“Sister, as a member of this community and a lover of Jesus, are you willing to walk with Tuesday until she can walk on her own?”

“Yes, sir, with God’s help,” she answered him.

“So be it.”

And that’s how Tuesday came to be born on a Wednesday.

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