Mrs. Ashgrove was an old woman by any standards. She had white hair, sagging skin, and a dull complexion and walked in a way that made you wonder how she could support herself. She looked frail and weak, and made you nervous whenever you came within a few feet of her for fear of causing her to shatter and break into a thousand pieces.
I knew Mrs. Ashgrove because she lived within my complex of 953 East Gate Gardens. Everyone knew Mrs. Ashgrove and came to understand that they should stray the other direction when she came because she was always in habit of talking, even to strangers. East Gate Gardens contained complex numbers from 1 to 58, it wasn’t a very big community, but it was populated with children, widows, natives, blacks, poor, welfare, crack heads, and the sort of people you usually want to avoid. Most of the children here I grew up with through elementary school and had attended the same high school, however they have dropped out or skip class 95 percent of the time. I do not fit in with any of the categories I just stated; I am the ‘other’ at the end of the list. I live with my mother in complex 38, Mrs. Ashgrove lives in complex 52, and 5 doors down from my back door.
East Gate Gardens has a nice sound to it and makes you often think of one of those new communities out in the suburbs, with new pavement, siding and lawn care; however this is not East Gate Gardens because East Gate Gardens is a name rarely used by anyone of this town or of the residents. My community is often referred to as EGG Town, not very clever, but it does have its own image attached to it, and to the people of this town it is negative in all ways. Someone once told me EGG stood for Economical Governing by Gad. I told my mother this one time and she laughed saying it was all nonsense but when I pointed out that our superintendent was named Gad short of some name I’ve now forgotten, she stopped laughing and told me I had homework that needed to be finished.
Why I informed you of a little history of EGG Town was to make aware Mrs. Ashgrove and her surrounding environment. I had often thought she should never deserve to be in such a place as this because she was old and frail and should be in a retirement home somewhere like Magnolia Retirement just six blocks and two streets down from EGG Town. Actually I feel a lot of people deserve not to live here. The children I see grow up into scanty clothing with too much make up and talking in a language I would never use for respect of the people around me. I see stereotypes become facts, I see mothers buying electronic equipment and going out to Bingo night down on the reserve, with this month’s baby bonus, while the children are still wearing the same clothes from last year, with an additional new hole or two, and I see fathers come home with cases of 24 beer which will be gone before the weekends out. And here is poor Mrs. Ashgrove, a frail old lady of some eighty years living a life surrounded by nothing but failure and false hope. It is Mrs. Ashgrove that I see coming out of her home every morning at eight o’clock, off to who knows where and back by 3, probably to watch some sitcom or other and then produce a dinner off a pension unknown, only to then retire to bed and do the same things over again the next morning.
It was on one fateful day our lives intertwined. I should point out I never so much as spoke five words to her. It was the usual ‘good morning’, ‘excuse me’, or ‘good bye’. So on this day I was caught off guard and with nothing to do but comply with her request of assistance.
It had rained and it was a Friday. I had just got off work, a little after 3, and found ahead of me Mrs. Ashgrove struggling to carry her groceries to her front door. I had never before seen her bring groceries home, and this only made me more aware that she actually lived in complex 52, and didn’t just walk in and out of it from time to time. I would assume the cab that I saw drive off contained a ruthless person to not carry her groceries the few feet it was from the lot to her front door.
As I approached nearer Mrs. Ashgrove perceived footsteps and turned to look back. Her face immediately light up and I almost felt my face become stone. She put down her bags, (only two) and called out to me, calling me ‘darling’.
“Excuse me darling!” Her voice sung in a soothing way. I looked at her hard and then my eyes darted around for an escape as my legs turned and walked directly towards her.
“Yes, ma’am.” Was my stiff reply.
“Could you do me the sweetest and kindest of favours and help me with my groceries? Herbert usually helps me carry them to my door but today I was given some other cab driver and he seemed to be in a hurry. Must be a busy day.” I nodded without thinking and picked up the two bags she put down and the other four she had laid down along the path. I carried them to her front door where she waited, holding it open for me and calling back when I walked through, “just place them on the kitchen table dear!” I did as I was told and just as I turned to make a run for it, she was again behind me, smiling a huge grin looking more like a Chinese person than a Caucasian North American.
“Uhh, can I help you with anything else?” I asked. Mrs. Ashgrove approached even closer, not saying a word but smiling even brighter took my hand and started patting it.
“You’re a sweet heart dearest, you really are.”
“Thanks” I said.
Suddenly she withdrew her hand and began to unpack her groceries. I didn’t know whether or not I was suppose to leave so I continued to stand there while this fragile old lady scurried about her kitchen, faster then my mother does when she’s leaving for work.
“You know not many young people would do what you did today.” I was staring at her back while she put some cans away in a cupboard.
“Really?” Was my disinterested reply.
“Why yes, ‘really’. Too many children now-a-days are misguided and don’t know polite and respectful from selfish, greedy and rude. I thought I was going to spend my entire evening getting those groceries from the lot to my kitchen. Thank goodness you came by when you did!”
“How long were you outside with your grocery bags?”
“Oh not more than five minutes. I really thought that cab driver a rude person, even after I gave him a tip he drops my eggs and drives off! We shall see if I ever get into a cab with him again!” I smiled at this comment and I think Mrs. Ashgrove was trying not to laugh for she turned her back on me and staid there a few more minutes like that till she had control of herself.
“Well anyway dearest you can go if you have something else to attend too. I do thank you for your help, it was much appreciated.” She was turned to me and looked straight into my eyes. There was no discomfort or anything unpleasant in her stare. She was comfortable, confident, and a natural at talking to people with her eyes and for a second I felt the full warmth of her speech, I felt that she could talk for hours like this and not start darting her eyes about like most adults and teenagers do now-a-days. It was a new understanding of Mrs. Ashgrove I never knew. She didn’t flail her hands and arms about to get a point across or make the conversation more appealing, it was all in her eyes; a mastery we have all forgotten.
I smiled like a good, polite girl and asked her if there was anything else I could help her with, since I wasn’t in a hurry to get home and do nothing.
“No dear, not today, but perhaps tomorrow if you would like, you could help me with my garden? I usually have Gregory help me, but he won’t be down till next week, and I’m afraid by then it will be too late.” She looked at me and smiled. Most girls would say no, or make up some excuse, maybe even say ‘yes’, but really mean no. However I was drawn to her. She had a weird way of talking, her appearance had changed from a frail old lady, to a woman of strong body and mind and the way she moved inside her home was polar opposite to what the world saw.
“I can help you tomorrow.” Was my response.
“Splendid! I shall see you tomorrow at nine o’clock.” There was no question or suggestion of time, her voice was commanding but sweet so that there was no option for another meeting time.
“Okay. Good day Mrs. Ashgrove.”
“Good day, Amelia.” I stopped and turned to her, I never introduced myself.
“Mary and I have conversations from time to time.” Was Mrs. Ashgrove’s only answer to my unasked question.
“Oh.” I said turning and walking towards the door, going through a hallway full of picture frames and small tables with vases full of flowers. As I opened the door my eye caught a picture in a dark oak frame. It was old and in black and white and I couldn’t help but stare for the person in it looking back look like a 1920’s movie star. She was gorgeous. Her hair was curled, her skin and eyes glowing, and her posture elegant and graceful. She smiled in a confident way and was holding a bouquet of flowers. Something dropped in the kitchen and that’s when I realized I needed to be going.
That night I asked my mother, Mary, when had Mrs. Ashgrove and she talked. She was in a good mood, and I had made dinner, which put her in an even better mood, a strategy I learned from my mother and she openly and freely talked to me about her and Mrs. Ashgrove’s conversations.
“She’s a nice lady; I don’t see why people look at her like she’s the plague. These people are all bums, the whole of them.”
“Mom, Mrs. Ashgrove and you talked? When and how?”
“Well we’ve lived here how many years now?”
“Ten.”
“It must have been oh five years ago then. It was a year after your father’s death. I was struggling with the bills and trying to take care of you, bring you to your school games, make sure you had a lunch in the morning, and all that other extra stuff you wanted on top. I had a break down after a year. I was coming home from the grocery store (you were still at school) and as I was walking down the path, I just broke down. They call it a nervous breakdown or something like that. Anyway I just freaked out and dropped all the bags I was carrying and, well you can guess. Mrs. Ashgrove happened to be outside and saw the whole thing. Next thing I knew I was in her kitchen, she was making me tea and I just opened up. She helped me after with the groceries and all that. Made sure I was okay inside and left. “
“You had a nervous break down? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Honey you were busy with school and friends and extra activities, it was nothing I wanted to worry you about. You also lost a father not to long ago, how could I? In any case I started having regular conversation with Mrs. Ashgrove from time to time and I started to feel better. I started talking about you, how proud I was and just bragged about my little angel, and well Amelia, that’s how she knows your name.”
“Have you had any nervous break downs recently?” I asked, only concerned about my mother and completely throwing aside Mrs. Ashgrove.
“No, not for some years now. I have no reason too. I have a secure job, I can afford everything, we have a new car, and there are no unpaid bills, just leisure money. I’m fine sweetie, now eat up, I’ll do the dishes tonight.”
It was hard to sleep that night. I had images of my mother having a nervous break down on the path from the lot, and they would replay, stop, rewind, and play over again. I think what bothered me the most was that I was left out of the loop. I was never told, there was nothing out of order or different about my mother, or maybe there was but I was just too self absorbed to notice, and I wasn’t there for her when I should have been. I felt horrible. I had let a person down I loved when I should have been there supporting instead of nagging, bragging, and wanting.
I rolled over and stared at my digital clock. Two forty five in the morning and I had to be up and ready for nine. Then it hit me harder, Mrs. Ashgrove. She was there for my mother, she was always there and knew just what to say, how to act, and I wasn’t. A shiver of jealously came over me as I imagined Mrs. Ashgrove working about her kitchen, making tea and probably biscuits, chit chatting away, while my mother sat at her table, crying, listening, and calming herself down with the soft melodic voice of Mrs. Ashgrove, telling her everything was going to be alright.
