In a room with thick white curtains and a white carpet, Sylvia sat hunched over in a soft blue recliner. The white decor gave the room a blinding brightness, even though the lamps were off, and Sylvia looked as if this was the only light she had seen in years. Her skin was pale and graying in places where it sagged and hung off of her high cheekbones. Her pale blue eyes were hidden by their lids until suddenly, they fluttered open, and she awoke from her umpteenth nap of the morning.

She looked through a crack in the curtains and blinked at the light. "The sun's out again today. It looks real warm outside," she said to the empty room and house. She noted the tops of the wiry dogwood trees thrashing about. "It may be a bit breezy, though," she added. "Those trees look as if they might just break right in two."

It bothered Sylvia that the trees were blooming already, it being only February. If it turned cold again, she reckoned everything would die. And besides, the wind blew the blossoms all over her yard and no one ever cleaned up their browning remains.

Sylvia looked around the room, which seemed foreign to her. She felt the chair underneath her and looked at the white curtains and the white floor, squinting at the light again. Full white curtains made her happy. Sylvia's mother used to tell her that the mark of civilized people was thick curtains so nobody could see their private lives. Her mother didn't believe in hanging laundry in the yard either. No matter if you had to wait an extra day for dry bloomers, at least no one would see them. Sylvia intended on putting some white curtains in her own house as soon as her husband, William, got back from the war and she moved out of her momma's house.

The carpet's color troubled Sylvia a bit. She used to want a white carpet, but lately her vacuum cleaner, a red classic-style Hoover, hadn't been running as smoothly as it used to, and she wasn't sure she could keep a white carpet clean. It used to be she'd glide all over the floor smiling in a white apron and red lipstick. She'd curl her hair on vacuum days. Now she'd lean into the Hoover with her tiny frame until she'd get to feeling like she was going to fall forward and have to stop. Yesterday, she tried to do the vacuuming herself but she got a little scared when she felt like she could tip over.

"You know, if you fall, that's it," she said aloud from her chair, thinking about the day before. "You go to the hospital with a broken hip and you're exposed to all those diseases and God knows what else."

Sylvia's momma had died of the pneumonia she'd gotten after breaking her hip and Sylvia had been avoiding the hospital and broken hips ever since. So she just refused to risk it with the vacuum. "Marie will be here later this week," she thought, "and she'll do the vacuuming for us."

Sylvia thought Marie was very nice for a colored woman; she'd cleaned the house for years and hadn't stolen a thing. Last week, though, Marie did break Sylvia's momma's vase, dropped it off the television set and spilled water on the light blue carpet. Sylvia had heard the crash and came running into the room behind her momma, and there Marie was on her knees, just crying away.

"I's sorry, Ms. Truitt, I's so sorry. I jus' hit it by accident. I'll pay fo' it," she said, just a-scrubbing and a-crying. Well, Sylvia knew that vase had cost her momma about five dollars, but Momma was a decent person and kind to the colored folks. Momma knew Marie had kids and all so she didn't make her pay for it. "Mind you," Sylvia thought, "if she breaks something else Momma will have to let her go."

Sylvia stopped thinking about housework and looked out through the crack in the curtains. "It's a very pretty day outside," she said, "very sunny. I bet it's warm too. It may be a bit breezy though, just look at those trees swirl about, spreading blossoms everywhere. If I go out, I'll have to remember to wear a jacket."

Sylvia's clock said it was about noon. She didn't know where the time went to this morning. She'd been up for awhile, but she hadn't done anything. She must have been sitting in that chair for longer than she thought. She felt kind of hungry though, so she hoisted herself up slowly, using her elbows, and went to fix herself some lunch. Sylvia opened the cupboards and was surprised to see they were full; she had fresh bread and everything. "William must have gone to the grocery store last week," she thought. Sometimes William would go on the way home from work and pick up whatever he thought they needed. Sylvia could see the road from her kitchen window and it used to be, when he pulled up, she'd go outside and meet his car to help him carry the bags in. He always made them double bag the heavy things. Sylvia thought all the fellows at the grocery store must've known who William was. He was hard to miss: tall, maybe a little lanky, with dark wavy hair. His eyes were as dark as his hair and he had a wonderful full smile.
He was the most handsome man in town when she married him, but then again, she used to be quite a looker too. Lately, she didn't recognize herself in the mirror. She could still see her blue eyes, but all that skin sagging around them depressed her. She'd put her fingers under her eyes sometimes or on the sides of her face and pull the skin flat. Then she could see it a little; she could see that she really used to be beautiful and it hadn't just been a dream. She knew she truly had been all legs and sometimes she could even envision her old golden tan, too.

William and Sylvia had started dating after he graduated high school. He asked her daddy for her hand when Sylvia was only seventeen. He was her first love and her last love.

One Sunday, Sylvia guessed it was maybe a month ago - sometimes she'd lose track - she and William took the Ford over to the grocery store after church. Mr. Henderson, the storeowner, went to their church too; so they just followed him, knowing he opened the store on Sundays as soon as he got there. Sylvia thought about how he used to scurry his butt out of that church fast as a whip after the last "Amen." William and Sylvia had scurried their butts out that day too and she'd cringed as they drove through the cloud of dirt Mr. Henderson's Chevrolet was tossing up. William, seeing her face, told Sylvia he'd take the car to get a washing the next day.

They parked the car right up front and a colored boy opened the door for Sylvia. William slipped him a quarter and he beamed and ran to open the door to the store for them.

"Good help you got here," William said to Mr. Henderson, patting the boy on the head.

"Yep, got the best of the litter, I'd say," Mr. Henderson replied.

Sylvia remembered everything they had bought that day, tomatoes and noodles and the other ingredients for spaghetti. Also, they bought some milk and bread and a box of cookies for their daughter, Katherine. Sylvia gave her rewards for bringing home good marks in school. Katherine was coming along so fast and she was so much smarter than Sylvia already. Sylvia had only made it through the eleventh grade. Mr. Henderson rang up their purchases and the little colored boy helped them carry their things to the car. William slipped him another quarter. "William was a good man," Sylvia thought.

"Do I have any cookies for Katherine?" Sylvia said out loud, still standing in front of the open cupboard. Katherine would be disappointed when she came home from school if there was no reward. But sure enough, there was a box in the cupboard. Sylvia was satisfied and, thinking that was why she had come to the kitchen in the first place, she hobbled back toward the blue recliner to watch some daytime television. The walk to the living room seemed longer to Sylvia lately. Sometimes she could swear the damn thing had moved farther away, just got up and walked or something. Most days now Sylvia just spent watching the television but she never remembered what she watched much. Now there was just some soap opera on. "Those girls are real pretty girls but they're always running after some no good guy," Sylvia said to the television. She really didn't pay much attention to the plot anyhow. It was just nice to have some noise in the house. She wondered when William would be home.

William went away to the war almost directly after he and Sylvia got married so they didn't have Katherine until Sylvia was twenty-three. Sylvia lived with her momma and daddy while William was away which was good because Momma needed help taking care of Daddy during that time. She would write William letters about how much she missed him. She wrote him when Daddy died and she and Momma moved to the house with the light blue carpet.

Sylvia remembered exactly what she wrote. The letter was still in a box in her closet, creased and worn from the many times it had been handled and reread. "William, my love," it read. "I hope you are taking good care of yourself. I miss you more than ever and wish every day for your safe return. I don't want you to worry but I might as well tell you that we have met hard times here. Daddy finally passed and Momma's in a fix. She's working her job at the factory still but she just seems to be depressed about it and everything else. Erma comes by almost every day for dinner. We helped Momma get the funeral together and settled the estate. We've also moved to a new house, you know the one on Market Street with the blue carpet? The address is on the envelope so you can write me back. I look forward to your letters. News from the front sounds almost promising. You've broken through in several places. Maybe you will be home soon. I hope so. Love forever - Sylvia."

When William got back, Sylvia didn't talk about her daddy and William didn't talk about the war. He'd wake up in the middle of the night sweating and screaming and some nights he wouldn't go to bed at all. He came around though, when Katherine was born. After that, he slept through the nights unless he was tending to her.

Sylvia's eyes had dropped closed again but suddenly, they snapped back open. "Boy, it's a really nice looking day outside, sunny and warm looking," she said, rubbing her eyes and looking out the window. "That wind's going though; better remember to bundle up if it's still like that tomorrow." Sylvia and her sister, Erma, were supposed to go to Wal-mart the next day. Erma's kids were all grown up now too so they'd spend the days together sometimes. "I need to buy some food anyhow; I must be almost out of bread," Sylvia thought. "I should probably call Erma and remind her that we're going." Erma would forget sometimes and oversleep so when Sylvia would pull up to her house the next morning, she had to pound on the door to wake her up. Then Erma would be scared and come to the door with a pistol. She had done it just last week, Sylvia thought.

"Look," Erma yelled through the door, "I got me a gun. Who is this and what do you want?"

"Put that damn gun down," Sylvia said back. "It's just me." Erma opened the door a crack, still latched at the top.

"Oh, hey, I forgot we were going out today. Lord, I'd better get ready," she said, shutting the door, sliding the latch off and opening it so Sylvia could come in. Sylvia followed her to the kitchen where she put the gun back on top of the refrigerator. "Make yourself at home," Erma said.

Erma had been really obsessed about that gun ever since her husband died. Some man selling security systems had fed her a lot of whoo-ha statistics about old people getting robbed and killed. Of course, Erma hadn't gone for the security system, believing they were faulty. She'd just gone right out, bought a gun, and began playing guard dog for her own house. In Sylvia's opinion there was noneed to be alive if you were going to be worried about dying all the time.

Sylvia must have nodded off in front of the television again because it was about two now, according to the clock. She was hungry and went back to her cupboard. "I have fresh bread? I wonder how that got there; I haven't been to the grocery store in months," Sylvia said. She started washing her hands. She had some nice soap that smelled like lemons near her sink and she rubbed it over her wrinkled, bony hands. Her granddaughter, Linda, had bought her the soap for Christmas. Linda visited her every so often. She was a good girl, stayed out of trouble. Sylvia remembered smiling at her when she was born. She turned off the water.

She looked out the kitchen window and down the empty street. "It's a really sunny and nice day outside," she thought. "The grass is really green and everything's in bloom. The trees are whipping around a little. I'd better wear a coat if I go anywhere. Tomorrow might be windy too. I'd better call Erma and tell her. It'd be good to remind her I'm coming, anyhow, so she doesn't shoot me with that damn gun."

Erma was three years older than Sylvia. Sylvia remembered how nice Erma had been to her in school, she used to take Sylvia out on some of her dates no matter how much those boys frowned and gave Erma hinting looks. Erma actually introduced her to William; he was in Erma's grade.

Ronny, a boy from school whom Erma had been dating for about a month, picked Erma up at six one Friday night. After Daddy gave him the once over, Erma yelled up the steps to Sylvia.

"Sylvia, are you gonna come with us or not?" she asked. Well, Erma hadn't mentioned anything about Sylvia coming earlier but Sylvia rushed to throw on a sweater before Ronny got his way. When Sylvia finally made it down the stairs, Ronny was giving Erma that wide-eyed look that said, "We can't be alone with her in the car."

Once they got in the car, Ronny did the predictable and ignored the fact that Sylvia existed while simultaneously having a conversation about her.

"Dammit Erma, every time she has to come with us," he said.

"Well, she's my sister," Erma turned and gave Sylvia a smile and a look that told her not to worry about this. Erma never cared what those boys thought of her, she had them lined up at the door, had to beat them off with sticks. "Why don't you go get William and bring him along, too?"

"William doesn't date kiddies," Ronny spat out bitterly.

"Look," Erma gave Ronny the ultimatum, "either you bring a friend or I sit in the backseat with Sylvia during the movie."
Ronny did some grumbling but sure enough, fifteen minutes later, Sylvia was sitting beside one of the handsomest guys in the school. They didn't start dating then though. Daddy would've killed William. No, he didn't touch her at all that night but he didn't date anyone else until he and Sylvia started dating a year later. William used to say wonderful things to Sylvia about how he fell in love with her that night.

Erma didn't go out with Ronny again. She told Sylvia much later in life that she'd just wanted to introduce her to William. She married a man named David a couple of years later. He was more like William, a good man who was careful of people's feelings.
Sylvia stopped staring out the window and picked up the phone to call Erma. She was glad she could still remember Erma's number, that Erma wasn't something that could slip her mind. She dialed it and waited. Sometimes Erma took awhile to answer the phone, Sylvia thought. She'd slowed down in her old age. It was three rings and then the operator picked up.

"The number you have dialed has been disconnected," said the metallic voice. "Please hang up and dial again."

Sylvia was really worried. She didn't know any reason why Erma would have her phone disconnected and she had no idea what to do. "Maybe I should call 911 or go over there or something," she thought and she went to her bedroom to get some clothes on. After she pulled on some gray sweatpants and a pink sweatshirt from Myrtle Beach, Sylvia began to look for her car keys. They weren't on the rack, in the junk drawer, on the table, in the door or in the car. "Where the hell are my keys?" she said loudly, frustrated and out of breath. She picked up the phone to call Katherine. She was at work.

"Katherine Richards," she answered.

"Good morning dear," Sylvia said.

"Good afternoon, Mom. How are you feeling?"

"Oh, I'm doing really good. It's a nice day outside. Looks real warm."

"Yeah, it's been warming up since this morning," Katherine reported. Sylvia could hear her tapping on the keyboard.

"It looks a little windy though, the trees around here have been bending over and swirling around all day," Sylvia said.

"Yeah, it's a little windy. Listen Mom, did you eat since I talked to you earlier?"

"I talked to you earlier?"

"Yes, around ten."

"Yes, I ate since then. I'm a little hungry now though."

"Well, what'd you have?"

"I don't know, maybe a sandwich," Sylvia snapped. Why had she called Katherine? She looked around, saw her open anddisheveled junk drawer, and remembered. "Honey, have you seen my car keys?"

"Yes, Mom, I have them," Katherine replied, still tapping away.

"Well, how am I supposed to get anywhere without my car keys?"

"That's the point, Mom. You're not supposed to be going anywhere. Don't you remember the doctor telling me to take them?"

"Well, I need to go check up on Erma. I have to remind her not to shoot me tomorrow when I pick her up and her phone's disconnected."

Katherine was real quiet for a moment and the tapping stopped. Then she sighed. "Mom, have you thought any more about going to one of those homes?"

"I'm not going to any home," Sylvia said, raising her voice a little. Katherine was missing the point and it was hard for Sylvia to keep remembering why she had called. "Look, I need the keys to the Ford so I can go check on Erma."

"Mom, we haven't had a Ford since Dad died," Katherine said.

That threw Sylvia off and she was silent until she collected her thoughts. Wasn't there still a car in her garage? What was parked in her garage? "Well, what do I drive now?"

"You don't drive, Mom, but you own a Saturn," Katherine said, tapping again.

"Well, then I need the keys to my Saturn. Me and Erma are going to the store tomorrow, I need some more bread."

"Mom, I bought you bread two days ago. You can't possibly be out of it yet. Are you? Go right now and look and check." Sylvia walked over to her cupboard and sure enough, there was an unopened loaf of bread.

She picked the phone back up. "Yes, I have bread," she said.

"Is there anything else you need Mom? I can go to the supermarket on my way over to vacuum tomorrow."

"No, I don't need anything from the store. Marie can do the vacuuming."

"Who's Marie?"

"You remember Marie, she's been cleaning the house for years," Sylvia said. "She's the colored woman."

"Nobody cleans your house Mom, you've cleaned it since I was born. Now, someone cleaned Grandma's house, maybe you're thinking of that."

Sylvia was almost positive that Marie cleaned her house, she kept the light blue carpet in shape, but Katherine could straighten it out with Marie the next day when they both showed up. "Well, maybe I was mistaken," Sylvia said. " Either way, bring the keys to theFord so Erma and I can go to the store."

Katherine paused her tapping for another second. "Mom, Aunt Erma died last year, remember?" Sylvia sat down in the recliner and tried to let it absorb. She couldn't remember anything.

"Did I go to the funeral?" she asked.

"Of course Mom," Katherine said. "Don't you remember? We visited her grave just last week."

Sylvia focused on the window and swallowed. "It's a real beautiful day outside isn't it?" she said. "Real sunny. But the wind's blowing real hard. Yes, those trees just keep whipping about." Sylvia paused for a moment. "Well, Katherine, I ought to go now," she said finally, and hung up before Katherine could start in again with that nonsense about moving to a home.

Sylvia pulled herself back up and walked over to the windows. She pulled back the curtains and blinding light filled the room, but Sylvia's thoughts suddenly darkened.

Looking at the dogwoods swirling in the front yard, she remembered last week. The trees in her yard were like the ones that lined the walls enclosing the cemetery. She thought of the red flowers she'd put on Erma's grave.

"I hope they haven't blown away," she thought. She watched the trees a moment longer, straining to hold on to faded memories of flower wreathes and black dresses. Then she let her hand slide down her white curtains until her fingers slid off the bottom and the curtains swung closed. The room was still bright but it was all from reflected light.

"When William gets home, we'll take the Ford over to check on those flowers," Sylvia said out loud in the empty house with the white curtains and carpet.

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