We have almost arrived at the end of the month, and I think my creative spirit has taken me down some strange alleyways. Tonight I was inspired by Lewis Carroll. Yes, it is still about women, and neither of them are named Alice. So here is tonight’s piece.

CABBAGES AND KINGS

Cabbage. She turned her cart back to produce. She would get the damn cabbage and get out. This store creeped her out. Too many males, perhaps. The way that guy looked at her while he fingered the melon. The other guy who stroked the cucumbers while staring at her; he held the cucumber out to her. She fled. That’s why she forgot to get the cabbage.

Produce was empty. All the leerers, gropers, and grabbers had moved to fresh ground, looking for more cooperative or interesting prey than the middle-aged women chatting in front of the peaches or the mother with two children who kept taking things out of her cart that they’d added. This was the sort of produce crowd she could deal with. “Excuse me, I’m sorry.” She reached around one of the middle aged women to get a cabbage.

“That’s all right, dear. Sorry we’re blocking the way.” The woman moved a few steps and continued her conversation. Clarisse grabbed the cabbage and fled toward check out.

“Thank you for shopping at King’s”, the checker intoned, bored and ready for quitting time. She ran a few items over the scanner for the customer in front, and tossed them in a sack. “$10.72.” Clarisse waited while she counted out the change. Now it was her turn. “Thank you for shopping at King’s. If you didn’t have a royal experience, please fill out the comment card at Customer Service to let us know how we can improve.” She didn’t look at Clarisse as she ran her groceries over the scanner. “Oh, cabbage. It’s a two for one today…our cabbages and King’s sale. Would you like another one?”

“I don’t know what I’d do with two cabbages”, she started. She remembered her neighbor, who always ran out of food stamps about now. She could give it to her on the pretense of not being able to turn it down, and the woman wouldn’t refuse. “Oh, sure. I’ll go get it.”

“No need. Sam’ll get it for you.” The checker picked up a phone. “Hey, Sam! Need a cabbage on two!”

Clarisse shifted from foot to foot while they waited for Sam. Customers piled up behind her, and she realized she should just have said no. Sam panted toward them holding the cabbage like a trophy. “Cabbage!” he shouted, making several customers wince.

“Thanks.” The checker dropped the cabbage in the sack and totaled the groceries. “That’ll be $50.31.”

Clarisse had the money ready; she knew the total wouldn’t go up if the second cabbage was free. She was ready to get out of line; the man in back of her kept scooting forward until he was now standing so close she could feel his thigh against her rump. “Thanks.” She grabbed the change and flew out of the store.

The drive home was just long enough to allow her to calm down. She slipped into her spot in the parking garage and loaded her groceries onto the rolling cart. She hoped the elevator was working today. It was, and she breathed as she leaned against the back of the car. Only three flights; she could usually walk, but the tension in her hips and shoulders exhausted her. Besides, she had four bags of groceries to take up.

She stopped next door and gave the cabbage to Hannah; she could hear the kids squalling. “Has Floris paid any child support yet?”

“No, he…well, he works as a bartender, and they pay less than minimum. He says…he says his tips are next to nothing. I know he’s lying, but the courts give him a break. So he drives a new sports car while I try to feed his kids on nothing.” Hannah held the cabbage as though it were the Hope diamond. She was so grateful that Clarisse felt guilty she didn’t find a way to do more. There had to be a million stories you could come up with as to why you had to give food away, right? She left Hannah and headed to her own apartment, glad as usual that there was no man waiting for her, and no kids she had to tend to. Her day was exhausting enough.

Something wasn’t right. The window was open. She didn’t leave it open; she never left it open when she was gone. She pushed the window down and grasped her phone as she crept toward the kitchen. She flung open the door…no one. Oh, shit. The bedroom. At least there were no knives in there. Well, there would be when she got there. She grabbed a butcher knife as she slipped through the hallway, not making any noise. She wanted to have the upper hand. She threw open the door. No one. There was no one in the bathroom, either. Or in the guest room, which she used as a combination library and office.

The apartment didn’t seem welcoming tonight. Clarisse stood in the living room, the butcher knife hanging at her side, the phone in her other hand, and worried. Who had been in the apartment? She didn’t find anything missing. Nothing was obviously out of place. Oh, wait, that picture was crooked. She straightened it and went to the kitchen to make supper while she tried to sort out her thoughts. For the first time, she was scared to live alone. She’d been living in the city for six years, ever since she graduated college. Mom was against it, telling her she was sure to end up the subject of some news report, and the family would find out she was dead when they displayed her grisly remains on the nightly news.

“They don’t show grisly remains on the nightly news”, Clarisse said. “You have to go to the internet for that.” She assured her mother she would be fine, and for six years, she believed it. Tonight she wasn’t so sure.

A knock sent her to the peephole. It was Hannah, so she opened the door. “I just…I meant to tell you. Mr. Wintergreen was in your apartment today. I thought maybe you called him for repair, and you wouldn’t know he’d come. So I thought…” She seemed jumpy.

“I didn’t ask for any repair. Maybe he was just…checking things.” Clarisse relaxed. The landlord had been in her apartment. Not a murderer.

Hannah went back toward her apartment. Before Clarisse got the door shut, she was back. She looked both ways and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I thought you should know.”

“What?”

“Look…behind the picture.” She fled, safe back in her own apartment.

Clarisse stood in front of the picture, almost afraid to look behind it. She pushed it back to the position it was in when she got home; nothing obvious. She lifted it off the wall, and leapt backwards. There was a camera built into the wall. For the first time, she noticed that the picture had a small hole, in a space where it wouldn’t be noticed. She rented the apartment furnished, and never bothered to check the pictures. She moved through the apartment checking all of the rooms. The bathroom. Yes, a camera. Nothing in the kitchen; guess Mr. Wintergreen wasn’t interested in culinary activities. The bedroom…oh, yes, and very strategically placed.

She sank to the floor in the kitchen, the only room she felt safe. What could she do? She could try to remove the cameras, but he could just replace them. She could call the police. A friend of hers called the police last year when a man was stalking her. They dug up every bit of information on her, told her she was a slut, and did nothing. Clarisse had more boyfriends than her friend. Anie only had one boyfriend; Clarisse had had three.

Cabbage. She jammed the knife into the cabbage, wishing it was the landlord’s head. She couldn’t kill a man, could she? No, and you wouldn’t get self defense just because he was looking at you naked. Still, cabbage…it seemed…significant. Cabbages and King’s. King’s. Cabbages. Something…surely she could find a solution in a cabbage. She always found solutions in strange places, why not a cabbage? She held up the cabbage and smiled.

When Mr. Wintergreen peeped through his camera that night, he saw what he was looking for. Breasts. He loved breasts, and Clarisse had great ones. He giggled. She was lying there, still as anything. Someone else was there…it was the divorcee from next door! She was…sort of…pretty, if you ignored the fact that she was sort of used up…too tired to do anything interesting. But…he saw her kneel by the bed, pull down the sheet, and lick the breasts on the bed. Oh, my, he was really getting the value from the camera tonight! He downloaded his treasure, and posted it on the internet. The visitors who protested that nothing much happened with Wintergreen’s Women these days were going to see. This was…wow.

The day moved slowly. He was dying to see what his followers were saying. He logged in; the comments section was full. The men…the men…were…laughing at him. What? Why?

“Cabbages? Come on, old man, you can do better. Nothing interesting in a woman licking a cabbage. Kinda weird, if you ask me, but not particularly sexy.” That was the first comment.

Wintergreen ran the tape forward from where he stopped. Hannah continued to slip the sheet down, down over the breasts. Still nothing. What? A blaze of light flooded the room as Clarisse, fully dressed, sat on the bed. The women laughed. They LAUGHED! At him! He’d…he’d…he realized he couldn’t do anything. If he tried to throw them out, or take any action, he would be revealed. It was right there…not hard to find at all. He even used his own name, and the name of the apartment house. How could he have been so stupid?

Hannah and Clarisse shopped together. Clarisse always slipped a little something into the basket, and Hannah stopped protesting after the first time. And every time they went to King’s, they made sure to buy cabbage.