She wasn’t even sure if she had her daughter’s current address. They don’t talk that much, but she says hi every week, and Freddie sends I’m still not dead. back. Lori appreciates it, even if her daughter is a little morbid.
One of the mothers in her support group said they’re allowed to take their space. All the things she reads, they paint a very hard picture of what her kid must go through. It’d been two months since she’d heard anything from her daughter other than I’m not dead.
Maybe she should’ve called to see if Freddie was free, but Freddie wouldn’t have answered, or she would’ve told her not to come. Better to just show up, right? She finds parking on one of the side streets near her daughter’s apartment.
Sign at the corner says Sawyer. She takes a picture so she can remember and says a small prayer to Saint Christopher in thanks. The apartment she remembers from her last visit is on Armitage, right near a bus stop.
She hopes Freddie is still there. An apartment on the main road, very city to her. She counted four different young women on her walk that were wearing jean shorts that barely covered their bottoms.
Even in the mid-eighties, she’d never wear that, she wouldn’t have even known how to pull it off. When she arrives at the door into Freddie’s building, one of the stickers labeling the buzzers says “DOLLBARN” in multicolored marker. The thought occurs to her that it could say ‘doll’ for another reason, but it probably doesn’t.
Extract — continue reading at the source.
