Strings Attached

CW: Death, mental health

Strings Attached

“So glad I caught you, Larry! Worried you were sick or something.” Honey Henscher stood on the sidewalk outside Dollar Deals rifling through her green mesh tote for the LARRY envelope. She raised it in triumph. “Merry Christmas!”

“Aw. Thanks so much, Mrs. H. Happy holidays to you, too.” Larry walked his lower half through the door, keeping his head turned to Honey, waving the envelope as a good-bye.

“You working a late shift today?” Honey advanced like she might go back in the store after him.

“A bit. Had to bring Mum to the doctor. Well, I’m running late. Have a great day, Mrs. H, and thank you again.” Larry pulled the door closed behind him.

“You, too, Duck.” Honey clucked—Larry was such a good son. Then she yelled through the closed door. “It’s a winning ticket this year, Larry. Put it somewheres safe!”

Using the door as a mirror, she patted down wild wisps of hair that caught the sun, smiling shyly with this morning’s Crimson Passion lips at her own red, red hair. Her Papa had always called her his sparkler. She also noticed that she’d misbuttoned her trenchcoat.

“Ah, well. I’ll fix this when I get to the grocery and can put these bags down,” she said with a big laugh to a woman coming toward her on the sidewalk. The woman returned the laugh, then clutched her little boy’s hand.

Gallo’s Grocery was hopping at ten in the morning. Joan called over to Honey when she wrestled a cart through the entry. “Mornin’, Hon!”

The standing joke the two loved to tell even ten years on was that Joan called her “Hon” from the start even before she knew that it was her real name, on the birth certificate and everything.

“Your Chock Full o’ Nuts is on sale this week and the Birds Eye is two-for-one.”

Honey waved and set about the serious business of getting the week’s groceries. Then, she thumbed through The National Globe while she waited, two back in line.

“Grand Central in here today, Hon! Everyone out shopping for Christmas Eve. We’ve been full throttle all morning,” Joan sang, then leaned in. “Honey Henscher, you are as put together as always. Lookin’ like a Christmas tree. Never see you out in yoga pants or pajama bottoms,” indicating with her head the woman who’d been in front of Honey in line.

“Oh, Joan. You always make me feel like a million bucks.”

Frowning over Honey’s purchases, Joan said, “Not much this week, Honey. You sure you’re eatin’ regular meals?”

“Do I look like I’m in danger of fading away?”

Both laugh.

“That’ll be $15.72 after your coupons and your Monday senior day discount.”

Honey remembered to fix the buttons on her coat before she picked up her sac to leave.

“Oh! How could I almost forget my real reason for coming in? Here’s your Lotzo ticket. Got us all the same numbers as usual.”

“Well, Honey Henscher. Thank you and bless your heart. Merry Christmas to you, darlin’,” and Joan was on to greet the next customer.

“Keep it in a safe place, Joan. I feel lucky this year!” Honey called over her shoulder before she was off to put the groceries in the back seat of her car and drive on to her last stops.

Honey had told Vinnie when she visited his grave that morning that she felt like she’d made a little family for herself with the lottery gifts in these five years even though the people she gave to probably didn’t even know each other. Even though they worked within a square mile of each other all these years. She’d been playing the same numbers ever since Vinnie died and she started buying Lotzo tickets. She’d gotten the idea from Cindy Clark next door who happened to be out at the end of the driveway the week before Christmas when Dianne, their mail woman, drove up. Honey could hear Dianne absolutely fawn over the scratch card that the Clarks gave her.

Dianne, who knew everything about the Henschers from when Charles got a speeding ticket in junior year, to when Vinnie had jury duty on a murder case, they fell behind on the mortgage that time, and Honey had had that scare with female cancer. Honey felt so much comfort, like she had a confidante in Dianne, even though they never spoke of the troubles.

Honey got to thinking how much easier it would be to give lottery tickets than make plates of three kinds of cookies for Larry, Joan, Dianne, Albert from Albert’s Car Care, and Dotty from the salon who did her hair.

She kept bringing her 2002 Lincoln Continental to Albert even though she never drove anywhere where she had to make left-hand turns, and she never drove the three thousand miles in a year between oil changes. She wasn’t sure about the funny-colored American flag and political signs Albert kept out front. A business didn’t seem to Honey to be the place to advertise your religion or your politics. And those GAGA people, or whatever they went on and on about, did not seem very nice at all. But Albert was always really nice to Honey. Always asked after “Chuck” as he called Charles. Oh boy, Honey always thought, what Charles would have to say about that.

Albert wiped the grease off his hands as he took the ALBERT card from Honey.

“Thank you so much, Mrs. H!” Albert was touched to the core that his customers thought of him at the holidays.

“Keep it in a safe place, Albert. It’s a winner this year, I’m sure!” Honey drove on to the salon mumbling that she’d be grateful if none of Albert’s winnings went to politics.

“I’ll see you next week for my cut and set. Merry Christmas, Dotty, and keep that in a safe place. We’re sure to win this year,” said Honey through an oddly tightening throat as she turned to go home for lunch.

“Merry Christmas, Honey. God bless, and good luck to us all!”

Honey believed it might be luck but also commitment. She picked the same numbers every year starting with Charles’s birthday.

Charles always went by “Charles.” Before he was even old enough to talk, he looked like he might implode when they would be introduced as Vinnie, Honey, and Charlie. Even the time they won the scouts’ father-son go kart competition. Vinnie was smiling so big when they announced “Vinnie and Charlie Henscher.” He never could see the way Charlie wore that look in his eyes. It had always felt to Honey like there must have been a mix up in the hospital, and Charles didn’t really belong with them. Once or twice over the years she cried into her pillow over that, but what could she do? She always tried her best, she’d say to Vinnie. Say to herself.

Charles scolded her during their monthly telephone calls about the things she was wasting her money on. December’s complaint was the lottery tickets.

“Mother, you realize there’s a one in three-million chance that you’ll win.”

Honey would think but never say out loud that there was the same chance she would ever get to see her new grandson. Theodore. A year old now, so hardly new anymore. But she kept Charlie’s old room fresh and clean just on the off chance.

***********

Charles Henscher heaved himself out of the rented Zippy car and went around to help his partner who was lifting a sleeping Theodore out of a rented car seat. The two-hour drive had taken three on New Year’s Eve, and they were spent.

Gravel crunched underfoot as they searched for the front door.

Dianne had gone to some trouble since Christmas day to find Charles in the Upper East Side. Honey was in no condition to remember how to get in touch with him. Dianne even had to go through local law enforcement.

Honey turned her face toward her son and that woman and child with him, then looked out the bay window onto the main street. She wasn’t seeming to see anything. Her hair hung in clumps around her faded face. Her bathrobe hung loosely off her shoulders.

Charles leaned in hard to try to catch her words.

“Where will I go? Larry. Joan. Albert. Dotty. Even Dianne. All off to new worlds. We did hit it big, our little village. My share is all yours, Charlie.”