Mrs. Malden

From a novel in the drawer

A novel I drafted ten years ago about a broken man, a cross-country drive, and an eight-year-old girl who might be God is turning my essay collection into something I didn’t plan for, and I think I’ll roll with it. Some of my fictional snippets might appear among the essays. This is one of them.

Mrs. Malden stared into the beautiful blue sky and said, “Lovely day today. It’s hard to imagine we get such horrid summers.”

She was right. Mid-70s, slight breeze, and not a cloud in the sky. Perfect November afternoon.

She continued. “I wish I took the time to appreciate this more. Life goes by. Day by day. We work, we come home, we sit in front of the TV, and the next thing you know, the kids are gone, and you and your husband stare at each other from across the dining room table, not knowing what the hell to say to each other. In fact, it was at that very moment this afternoon that I got up in frustration and stepped outside to smoke a cigarette. I don’t smoke all that often, but every once in a while, when I get stressed or upset at Mr. Malden, I grab my smokes and head out to the back porch. Today I noticed a little girl wandering the street in front of my house. I didn’t recognize her from the neighborhood, so I went out front. She was the nicest little girl. I can't remember her name. Not Mary, but something like it. I asked her if she was lost, and she said something I’ll never forget.

She said, ‘Oh no ma’am. I’m not lost. I am exactly where I am supposed to be.’

I asked where exactly that was, and she said ‘Right here, with you, enjoying this beautiful weather and taking in the wonderful aromas of your flower garden. I don’t think I’ve ever smelled Jasmine so sweet as yours.’

I see that garden every day and never notice the jasmine or anything else. That is, until today. I turned to look at the garden and smell the flowers. When I looked back, the girl was gone.”

Mrs. Malden seemed to snap out of a trance. She looked around as if just waking up and locked in on Jennifer. “Did you see her?”

Jennifer answered, “No, neither did Bosco; he would have barked and dragged me to meet a new friend.”

Mrs. Malden said, “Hmm. Well, whoever she was, I’m glad I met her. I need to get back inside. I think I’m going to make Mr. Malden his favorite dinner. I don’t remember what that is, but I’m going to find out. Then maybe we’ll take an evening stroll and look at the stars and sniff the jasmine.”

As I entered Jennifer’s front door, I took one last look toward Mrs. Malden’s house. I could see her through her kitchen window. I could hear her too. She was singing a song from Mary Poppins. Or maybe it was from The Sound of Music. Something that I recognized from Julie Andrews. I wondered what Mr. Malden was thinking. Was he pleased with his wife’s newfound love of life? Confused? Or maybe he, too, had met the girl whose name wasn’t Mary, but something like that.