Two Peasants and a President by Frederick Aldrich Page A

hope of ever seeing it again.  Everything was there, the makeup kit, the clothe s . . . she paused to examine them .  The filthy clothes she had changed out of and balled up were there too, but someone had laundered them, she was sure of it.  And there was another surprise – her make up mirror.  She started to look at herself, but paused, afraid to see what she had become.   Finally she couldn’t resist and held it up.  A gaun t face stared back at her, struggling to hold back tears.  No more tears, no more tears , she told herself for the hundredth time.   She knew she needed to be strong for with the suitcase came thoughts she had tried to banish, thoughts of her uncertain future. 
    Once again, after she had eaten her morning fruit, the man and the cleaning lady returned.  The cleaning lady seemed nervous now.  But once again, when the man seated outside could not see her, she turned to Holly and smiled.  This time there were unspoken words in the smile, something she wanted Holly to understand.  She seemed to be looking at the sink.  Then the  man outside grunted, which brought her upright, a sudden flash of fear in her eyes.  In an instant she’d assumed again the tired, frail visage that wandered the halls with her mop and pail.  But now Holly sensed that it was a persona that she projected and that there was far more inside that she was hiding. 
    A little while later Holly went to the sink to wash.  She had developed a routine.  During the periods when no one usually came, she would soak a washcloth and then go into the corner where she couldn’t been seen and wash herself.  She couldn’t always tell when someone was outside and she had no intention of allowing them to see her unclothed. 
    She reached for the faucet handle and noticed something in the drain.  It had almost dropped through the small holes.  It was a narrow , tightly rolled piece of paper.  She pulled it out gently and hid it under the washcloth.  Then she moved to the corner like she was going to wash.  Carefully unrolling it, she saw the words:  “ I am friend. You have family? I try talk to.”   Holly’s heart leaped in her chest.  The message was crude, but it was clear.
    Then she heard the lock in the door turn.  Holly quickly folded the washcloth over the paper and set it on the stack of towels.  Robo -doc walked in, as usual without knocking.  He looked over at her standing there near the sink.  She was sure he would hear her racing heart with his stethoscope.  He was looking at her strangely, sensing her fear as she struggled not to panic.
    “I was abo ut to bathe, you startled me,” she said defensively.  To her enormous relief, he seemed to buy her story and again motioned her to turn around.  When he was done, he asked her how she was feeling.
    “Oh, I feel just great,” she said.  “I’m in a prison cell, I don’t know what happened to my husband and I never know when some pervert’s going to burst in on me and catch me naked!  Does that answer your question?” she glared at him.  So much for acting timid.
    It was like she had just said “fine, thank you.”   No expression, no anger. Then he pointed one of those things with a light that a doctor uses into her eyes.  It was as if he was examining the knots in a two-by-four.  She wanted him to leave like she hadn’t ever wanted anything in her life, but he seemed to want to examine her more closely this time, like he enjoyed to r turing her with his despised presence.  Finally robo -doc stood back and started at her for several seconds before packing up and leaving.
    She listened for awhile for any sound outside the door.  She knew they could easily sneak up on her in their knock-off Reeboks.  But she had a reason to be in the corner now and she picked up the washcloth, throwing a towel over her shoulder. 
    Carefully unwrapping the paper, she looked again in disbeli ef.  The words were still there; she hadn’t been dreaming.