Scarecrow Pt. 01

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So late!

Elise prides herself on being on time. But when the Uber driver refuses to take her up the long, gravel drive to the tall woman’s cottage, she has to walk the last half-mile.

Twenty-six years old, athletic, brown hair tied in a bun, in her best blue business dress, stockings and black pumps, she pulls her roller bag behind her and feels out of place. It is a sunny morning in early May and the warm stink of manure mixes with the chemical smell of fertilizers out in the fields to either side of the road.

The roller bag pops and hops as it hits the ruts, twists and tugs at her wrist. Her pretty little upturned nose already itches from the ragweed. If there is a time and place for regrets or hindsight, she could be forgiven for stopping now, calling the car back—

“No, Elise!” she tells herself, “onward and forward. You’re committed now. And you’re late!”

She presses on, her fine shoes instantly dust-covered and scuffed. The Uber driver hadn’t wanted to dirty his new, black Audi but it was okay for her to dirty herself. At least she hadn’t worn heels! The walk, to look on the bright side of things, was maybe just what she needed to prepare herself for her new life. And the delay could be easily explained by the car not wanting to come up to the house.

As she walks, she wonders at the woman who can afford all this—the 300 acres, the horses, the cornfields. Wishes her dad could see it. Well, maybe not at this exact, particular moment but someday. Smiles to think what her sister would say: “Turn around now, you! We’ll find another way.” Or something like that.

Hurries along, some kind of hopping insects jumping ahead of her in the dust. A sort of vanguard or escort she imagines. She sneezes.

The house was once perhaps the stablemaster’s. It has a patched roof, bushes overgrown all around it, deteriorating brick steps to the front door, a porch with weather-beaten furniture, a rusty sculpture of a rooster, broken wind chimes that sound like the rasping of a metal grate. She squints into the sun as she looks at it and thinks, “home sweet home.”

But time to think on all that later! Right now, there’s an apology due. She pauses to take a breath, neaten her dress. Considers wiping the dust from her shoes but thinks it better not to delay further.

“Here we go Elise,” she tells herself. “Onward and forward.” türbanlı porno

She steps up to ring the doorbell, back down to stand beside her roller bag at the foot of the stairs, her hands clasped behind her.

The blind on the cottage door sways and a dusky blonde-haired girl, early-twenties, opens the door. She wears a simple blue summer dress, sandals, her eyes are an intense aquamarine.

“You’re late,” she says.

Elise gestures somewhat helplessly, “Uber wouldn’t come up. It was a beautiful walk though.”

“But you’re late.”

Now Elise is not sure what to say. “I’m sorry.”

The girl nods and says, “Well, she’s gone out. Not sure when she’ll be back. You can wait over there.”

She gestures to the driveway. Shuts the door and Elise is alone again.

Rather than sit in the driveway in the sun, Elise sits in the shade of the front stoop. She’s making herself comfortable there when the front door opens again and the dusky blonde says, “I told you, the driveway.”

Weird and just a little annoying. But Elise is no stranger to making the best of things. It is just like waiting on the doctors in their offices as she tries to sell them the latest Luevo Pharmaceuticals meds. Not wanting to mess up her dress, she uses her roller bag as a seat on the gravel drive.

And an hour passes.

The sun rises fully over the house. Two horses come to graze up near the fence. A crow lands on the lamppost and gazes sideways at her. Elise has time to shine her shoes, spits into her hands and rubs the dust off the black leather. She watches the clouds breeze by and starts to think “why am I waiting?”

The Agreement, of course, was that she show up on this day at eight in the morning. She had nearly done so. Point taken! It isn’t my fault about the car. I can explain that. But what is the point of making me sit out here?

At that moment, the front door opens and the dusky-haired girl steps out, walks down the stairs as Elise jumps to her feet. Finally!

But the girl ignores her. Walks around the house and then re-appears pulling a garden hose. She sets about spraying the overgrown shrubs, the light breeze sprinkling the water back on her and droplets raining on Elise in the driveway.

“Do they need a lot of water?” says Elise, eager to make some conversation.

The blowjob porno girl says nothing, adjusts the flow of the water so that now more of the droplets fall on Elise.

Elise leaves her bag, takes a few steps backward. “Is Miss Maggie home yet?”

No response.

“I can come back another time.”

The girl stops the flow of water and turns to Elise. “I think I’m going to name you Fidget,” she says. And before Elise can even think to reply, gets back to work.

Fidget? “I’m Elise,” says Elise, slightly annoyed. “I didn’t catch your name—”

No response. The girl finishes watering and pulls the hose back around the side of the house.

She returns and heads up the stairs, her blue dress damp clings to her hips and her pretty, tanned legs.

“Listen,” says Elise, “Couldn’t I wait inside?”

The girl goes inside the houses, closes the door behind her.

Another hour passes. The sprinkled water dries on Elise’s roller bag. The horses go off into the field to find the shade of the distant tree-line. Elise paces. Could the girl not let her in?

She rings the doorbell again. Again, the blind on the cottage door sways. But the dusky blonde does not come out. Instead, she stands at the window and wags her finger, tsk tsk tsk. No.

“Now this is getting a little silly,” Elise tells herself, her arms akimbo. She checks her watch. How much longer should I wait? She wonders whether this is just the Universe telling her: This is not for you.

An hour, she decides. One more hour just to give this every chance. And if an hour passes and still no meeting, well, so be it. Her sister will be happy and together they will find another way.

The sun nearly directly overhead, an hour nearly gone,

“Well, that’s it!” Elise tells herself and stands, stretches.

Just as she hears the front door open and turns to see the tall woman emerge onto the stoop.

Had she been in the house all along? A question Elise might have considered but for the sudden relief at not having to rethink, re-plan everything.

“Oh hello,” Elise says quickly, automatically, and takes up her roller bag. “Miss Maggie—”

“You’re Elise,” she says. She’s tall with angular features, trim and smart in equestrienne gear: riding boots and pants, a white top, black hair in an updo.

“That’s esmer porno right. Pleased to meet you.” Elise arrives at the bottom of the steps with her bag, the woman three steps up and towering over.

“Well, turn around. Let’s have a look at you.”

Also weird. But Elise smiles and does as she’s asked, ends back facing the woman, and gives a little shrug.

“Fine,” says the woman. “Leave your bag beside the door, take off your shoes. You may come in.”

Elise steps up to the stoop. She sets her bag to the right of the door. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” she says as she bends to take off first her right and then her left shoe. She sets the shoes beside her bag.

“No, turn them to face the drive.”

Elise gives a little laugh and takes up the shoes, turns them so the toes face the way she has come. Looks up brightly but sees the tall woman is not smiling.

So, maybe a smile isn’t the right thing. She clasps her hands together and tries a different approach. “What a beautiful little house,” she says.

“You were late,” says the tall woman. She holds the front door open for Elise who steps over the threshold in her stocking-ed feet, into a little hall with a hallway and staircase ahead, rooms to the right and left.

And the dusky-haired girl who stands in the way, almost scowling. Like I’m somehow beneath her, thinks Elise.

The tall woman shuts the door and turns the deadbolt. “You’ve already met Mule,” she says nodding in the direction of the girl. “Mule, you may go.”

Mule bows her head. “”Thank you, Ma’am,” she says. Turns smartly and with a surprising, delightful elegance heads off down the hallway toward the kitchen.

Mule. A name? Nickname? And is this her daughter? wonders Elise. But there’s no family resemblance. A caretaker? She had not expected anyone else to be here.

“Is that your–” she starts, but the tall woman speaks over her. “You start in here,” she says, indicating the dining room to their left. “Take off your dress. Fold it in thirds. Put it on the table. Sit in the chair with your back to the window. When you are ready, call for me.”

“My–my dress?” says Elise.

“Take off your dress. Fold it in thirds. Put it on the table. Sit in the chair with your back to the window. Call for me when you are ready. What don’t you understand?”

Elise understands all of it. She just didn’t think…. didn’t think it would come to this so suddenly, so soon. She cannot just at that instant make herself move.

“Or leave now,” says the tall woman. “Decide.”

Elise nods. Wets her lips, takes a deep breath. Steps forward into the tall woman’s dining room.

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