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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue... cc&d magazine (v215) (the December 2010 Issue) |
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Order this issue from our printer as an ISSN# paperback book:  or as the ISBN# book “Entering the Ice Age”:  |
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Restorations
Billie Louise Jones
The tan workman’s van was parked with the left wheels on the sidewalk, the way they did it in the narrow, one way French Quarter streets. The van was lettered “Restorations/French Quarter Specialists.”
The carpenter working on the doorframe had very sure hands, small and deft and sure. She wore sturdy brown carpenter’s overalls with tools in the thigh pockets. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had wrapped a red bandanna pirate-style to keep off some of the dust. She stepped back onto the sidewalk to look at the doorframe. She stood with her feet spread, a man’s pose, yet not really masculine, just not thinking about how she looked.
A carefully kept up woman of about fifty strolled by on light little feet. She wore a peach dressmaker suit; her hair and makeup were careful, becoming, and suitable. The very aura of the woman told that she had been raised to please and that she did please. Never in her life would she have thought about trade union work, competing with men, marching in the streets, equal rights, abortion on demand, right to orgasm, and being anything anyone might deem unpleasant. No doubt she was the apple of her husband’s eye.
She was almost past, she glanced at the carpenter, she looked again to be sure. Their eyes met. The carpenter smiled wryly at the woman’s surprise. The woman smiled back. Her expression changed slightly. In that subtle cast there was gladness, encouragement, and even somewhere deep inside a sense of vindication. Then she went on her way.
