The Footstool: A Christian Short Story Collection, Page 3

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  The Victorian sofa did not mesh well with my TobyMac posters and miscellaneous neon signs, but I plopped on it and found it more comfortable than the lawn chairs. I simultaneously put my feet on my make-shift coffee table and grabbed the remote when I felt a drip on my forehead. My instinctive look up to the ceiling was rewarded with a cool drip on my eyeball. Scottie must’ve hired a new dishwasher for his bistro and failed to warn them to be careful about overfilling the sink.

  The dripping grew so bad last time, I had walked next door to the Beauty Shop and slept in my swivel stool. When I awoke with a crick in my neck, I looked into the mirror and nearly fell out of the chair. Shasta had taken the liberty of transforming my rocker locks into a bowl cut as a prank. That certainly wouldn’t happen twice!

  A waft of garlic hit me in the face as I stood on the sofa. I banged on the ceiling and yelled, “Scottie! It’s dripping.”Scottie’s muffled voice spoke, “I know, I know. Alright.”Shouting and clattering of pans commenced as I stripped the damp cushions from the sofa. A ring from the sofa cushion flew across the room. It’s amazing I even heard the clinking of the ring as it fell to the floor. There it sat twinkling, staring at me, waiting for me to make a move.

  I figured I’d give it to Harper the next time he stopped in for a haircut, but as I slipped the diamond ring in my jeans pocket, I reasoned to myself, “Mable probably lost this ring twenty years ago. Harper forgot all about it. He is trying to move on anyway. No reason to tear up the old man unnecessarily.”

  This little trinket was the only thing standing between me and my happiness last year. I wondered if I could track down my ex-girlfriend and woo her with it.

  Memories flooded my brain. Savannah’s voice echoed in my head, “Life is an equation made up of goals with a few unknown variables thrown in. Sure, no one can control the variables, but you have no goals! You refuse to commit to anything—good or bad.”

  It was true. I had no plans for my future. I applied for the hairdresser job because it was easy to walk to from my apartment. I never once questioned whether or not this was something God had put in my heart to do. A prayer rose in my heart in that instant. “Lord, help me to find the career You want for me in this life.”

  Hope ballooned in my chest. I considered how refreshing it was to hope for something beyond making rent. This reminded me rent was due in two days, and I was still three hundred dollars short. I wondered how much a pawn shop would give me for the ring.