Sophie's Dream Part I
I put the bank notice back in the envelope and tossed it on the table, stirred the sugar into my coffee, and stared out the kitchen window. Recently divorced and alone, I was faced with foreclosure on the house I had called home for the last 25 years. I wasn't sure where to turn, who to talk to, or better yet, who to cry to. I hadn't worked for a very long time. Before Chad left, my job was to mind the children, take care of the house, and have supper on the table promptly at six. My resume' was out of date, to say the least. I laid my head down on the table and closed my eyes for a few seconds, thinking about my dilemma.
The jangling of the phone interrupted my thoughts, and I quickly answered it on the second ring.
"Hello, Chariton residence."
"Is this Sophie Chariton?" an unfamiliar voice asked.
"Yes, this is she," I answered.
"This is Grace, Mrs. Farmer's daughter. I was wondering if you could check on her for me? She's not been feeling well, and I haven't been able to reach her today."
"Sure, I can, give me your number and I"ll call you back."
Grace gave me her information and I hurried next door to see to Mrs. Farmer. I knocked on the door several times but to no avail. I walked around the house looking into the windows but I couldn't see her anywhere. I went to the front door again and tried the doorknob; to my relief, it turned in my hand. I slowly entered the living room, calling out to Mrs. Farmer as I made my way through the house.
Finally, I heard a very weak voice answer, "Here, I'm in here."
I ran in the direction of her voice, and found her naked and sprawled on the bathroom floor. She had fallen while getting out of the tub.
"Oh, my goodness, Mrs. Farmer, let me help you!" I looked around for a blanket to cover her with and grabbed one off her bed, tucking it around her as gently as possible. "How long have you been lying here?" I asked.
"I'm not sure," she answered feebly.
"Let me call an ambulance and your daughter, I'll be right back!" After I made the necessary calls, I told Mrs. Farmer I would ride with her to the hospital since her daughter lived out of town and would be a while before getting in. I held her wrinkled little hand and smoothed the hair from her forehead as I assured her help would be there soon.
She looked up at me with weary eyes and whispered, " Don't you worry honey, everything is going to be alright, the answers will come when you're ready to know them." I nodded my head, and thought to myself, she must be confused after her fall. What on earth was she talking about?
Sitting in the empty hospital lobby, I waited impatiently for any news about Mrs. Farmer's condition. I walked over to the coffee maker and poured myself a cup of very strong coffee and was in the process of looking for some sugar, when a male voice said, "Ms. Chariton?"
Startled, I spun around, spilling the hot coffee on myself, "Yes?"
"You're here for Mrs. Farmer, I understand?"
"Yes, yes I am until her daughter gets into town. How is she, Doctor, uh...?"
"Weaver," he answered, holding out his hand to shake mine. "Well, Mrs. Farmer has quite a bit of healing to do. Her right hip is broken and she has a slight concussion, but I believe she'll make a full recovery. It could have been so much worse if you hadn't found her when you did."
"Thank goodness! I know her daughter is very worried about her. Is it possible to see her?" I asked.
"She's sedated, but you can sit with her until her daughter gets in."
"Thank you, Dr. Weaver."
After finding her room, I tiptoed in and settled myself in the chair beside her bed. I gazed at her face, noticing the nasty bruise covering the side of her head, and how ragged her breaths seemed to be. Poor thing, she'd had a nasty fall. Sadly, I realized I didn't even know this sweet woman's first name, just her last. She had only been living next door for a short time; the house had stood empty for several years before that. I looked at the end of the bed and noticed her chart hanging there. It couldn't hurt to look at it and get her first name; besides, now I was curious to know something about her.
I slowly got up, so as not to wake her, and silently picked up her chart.
"What is it you wish to know, child?" she inquired.
''Ohhh, oh I'm so s-sorry," I stammered. "I didn't mean to disturb you, Mrs. Farmer."
Embarrassed I looked at her and tried to redeem myself, "I realized as I was sitting here, that I don't even know your first name. And I'm ashamed to admit that I never took the time to ask."
She smiled briefly, and her eyes crinkled as she did. She nodded her head slightly, giving her consent. I read down the chart, taking in the diagnosis and medications she was on at the moment and saw she was seventy-two years old last December. I found her name at the bottom of the chart and looked at her with surprise. "Your name is Chepi?"
"Yes," she answered.
I read her full name to myself, Chepi Catherine Farmer. What a beautiful name! Why did I know that name? I was sure I'd never heard it before.
"My mother was Algonquin Indian, and my father was French," she explained.
That's funny I thought, my mother was part Navajo Indian too. I was just about to comment on the similarity but saw that she had drifted off to sleep. I sat back down in my chair and was soon dozing myself.
I woke up to someone saying my name, and groggily looked up to see a red-headed woman in her fifties smiling down at me.
"Ms. Chariton, hello, I'm Grace."
"Oh, hello, sorry, it looks like I fell asleep on the job."
She smiled again, "It's okay, you must be really tired sitting here all night waiting for me to get in."
"Oh no it wasn't a problem," I assured her.
"I spoke with Dr. Weaver, and he says she'll be alright after some rehab for her hip. I'm so glad you were able to stay with her, thank you for that," she said.
"She seems to be resting peacefully." I spoke with her briefly for a few minutes before she fell asleep again," I stated.
We chatted for a little bit and then I left to go home.
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