Lasting Impressions
“I really need to come up with something now,” Ralph tells himself. He then silently curses Rose’s infertility and their inability to adopt. Even though the sum of their IQ scores equal the brainpower of one genius—a point their social worker had tried to make to the judge—they still were considered unfit to be parents by reason of mental disability. But thinking about what they didn’t have and couldn’t have, and what they should do to replace the void was tortuous. It was a like a grave they could never fill and tamp closed, because it only got deeper. They agreed to put it out of their minds. They hadn’t talked about it in more than 13 years. He still thought about it everyday, and assumed she did too. Maybe she needs to be reminded how important she is.
“I need you, you know. You make it possible for me to go out and fix everything that I find broken, floor to ceiling. You take care of me, and then I can take care of other people,” Ralph says.
Rose forces a shaky smile. She doesn’t know what she wants to hear but she knows that wasn’t it. She knows, though, he’s just trying to help. “I know, honey. I know. I know you want to help me.” But he isn’t helping, and she needs to find a way to tell him. “My problem may not be able to be fixed by you, no matter how hard to you try. And it’s not because you aren’t good enough. It’s because I’m not sure it’s fixable and if it is, I might have to fix it myself. Like how I can make these yarn hot plates, but when you try to knit, you’re all thumbs.”
“Yeah, I’m no knitter. That’s your job,” Ralph says.
Then it hits him. He flushes with the same feeling he would get when he showed cable customers that their favorite channel was back on in full, unadulterated color.
“Why don’t we make a business selling your hot plates?!” he gushes.
Rose’s eyelids open up with excitement. She takes a brisk inhale that pushes her lungs out, her shoulders back, her chin up. And then she exhales with defeat.
“Oh, Ralph, I don’t know. There are so many hot plates out there—even the dollar store has five different kinds. Why would anyone buy mine?”
“Because they’re beautiful?” Ralph says. Rose doesn’t respond. “Because we’ll sell them on the street?! People won’t even have to go into a store. They won’t have to go anywhere! We’ll be right there.”
Rose engages. “Well, we’d definitely have to go someplace where lots of people are.”
“Yes, definitely!…What about that area near Atlantic and Pacific. A million trains stop there, and it’s right near Target. We’ll get them before they go inside.” Ralph glows.
“I like that idea,” Rose says.
“How many do you have made right now?”
“Seven, but they’re all in neon colors cause that was the only yarn that was on sale last week.”
“The color doesn’t matter. That’s enough for us to start with. Now we have to pick a price that would encourage people to buy.”
Rose holds one of her trivets. “I don’t think this is a winning lotto ticket.”
“Do you want to give them away?” Ralph asks.
“Well, no. I want people to have to pay something for them,” Rose says as she’s thinking it out herself. “Or else it’s different. Then it’s like people could take one and just throw it away.”
“Ok, we’ll pick something affordable but that has a ring to it. How about two for a dollar?”
“Ok, that sounds good.”
***
The next morning, a Sunday, Rose puts the seven neon yarn trivets in a plastic Key Foods bag. Ralph holds their apartment door open for her. “After you my-damn,” he says.
“Why thank you, kind sir.” Rose says.
Twenty-three minutes later they emerge from the subway at Atlantic and Pacific, just about 50 feet from a Target and a Pathmark grocery store. They position themselves about three feet from the historic stone subway entrance and stand side-by-side facing the door. People walk out facing them before they turn to go toward the stores.
“Anyone of these people could be happy to buy your hot plates,” he says.
“No, they don’t seem to care.”
“That’s cause we still look like Joe-Schmos. Nobody knows we’re selling hot plates. We’ve got to tell them. Here, hold one up.” Ralph warms with a sense of purpose. Rose holds one of her neon yellow trivets up in front of her heart to show them off. “Yarn hot plates, here! Two for a dollar. Yarn hot plates, here! Two for a dollar,” Ralph hollers.
A couple people glance at Rose and Ralph while walking by. “It’s working!” Rose says. “I’m going to join you.”
In unison Ralph and Rose call out, “Yarn hot plates, two for a dollar. Yarn hot plates, two for a dollar. Yarn hot plates, two for a dollar.”
March 13th, 2010 at 5:52 am
Wonderful story! Well written vision of the story behind people that we see on the street and on YouTube every day.