Marianne shared an apartment with three other women, which meant sharing a bed with one of them. There were two bedrooms, a tiny living room, and a kitchen. She could have done better money-wise, but the other three seamed nice and she was fine with the location. There was a nice, large park just two short blocks away and she liked the park. On her side of the street was the old Western State Hospital and it’s ancient trees and there were nearby trails that could take her to Puget Sound and wonderful views.
It had taken a little less than a week to become friends and get some basic ideas of what the apartment and what else the area could do for her. She had done similar sharing in Portland and had done reasonably well with income and a comradery existence.
Marianne still had a fake ID showing off her skills of nursing. If she did well here in Lakewood and liked the people and the weather, she was ready to stay put for a while. If she got lonely for a man, there were a number of military dining facilities with meal services offered on Joint Base Lewis-McChord. Free or cheap food and unmarried military men go hand and hand. Mariane had spent time in the service earlier and her ID might get her back in for fun and games and men of various nationalities and ratings.
One of the gals had an old bicycle that Marianne could use. On day three of her new adventure she spread her wings and took the bike down to the water front. She enjoyed her journey down, but up was a problem. After peddling for an hour with frequent break times for rest the sun was going down and Marianne was going down with it. An old man in an old pick-up truck stopped and rolled down the window and stuck his head out and asked, “Are you alive?” Marianne answered with a single word, “No.” The old man asked, “Where are you headed?” Marianne barely opened her eyes, looked at the old man and then pointed up. The old man laughed and then said, “My name is Chet, if you like you can just tell people, you don’t know Chet, but in the mean time, let’s get you home.” Chet jumped out of his truck, grabbed the bike and laid it down in the bed of the truck. Then offered his hand to Marianne who could barely grip it. He helped her up and took her around to the passenger side door, opened it and carefully assisted Marianne into a well-worn seat and then shut the door.
Back in the driver’s seat, he put the truck in gear and they were on their way, except Marianne was asleep. Away from the water and up in Lakewood, Chet pulled into McDonald’s and parked. Fifteen minutes later he was back in the truck. The smell of hamburgers and fries brought Marianne’s head up. She looked around and said, “Well, I know where we are, but I don’t know how and who got me here.” Chet just laughed and then handed Marianne a bag of food and a paper cup with root beer in it. She responded “Am I still alive?” and then said “Looks like you brought me home.” Chet simply asked, “Where do you live?” Marianne pointed to the apartment rental sign behind the shopping center and said “We’re pretty much here.”
After eating and drinking everything in the bags, Chet drove Marianne around to her door . Marianne thanked Chet for the third or fourth time and then paused and asked, “How old are you?” Chet shook his head and said “There you go . . . ain’t that just like a woman. You bend over backwards to help them out, you drive them around in a fancy car, you feed them and then they want to know your age without sharing their own. Just plain nosy.” Marianne broke into laughter and said, “Just like a man . . .” and the two of them broke into laughter.
A half-hour later Marianne let herself in. All heads turned toward her with raised eyebrows. Marianne laughed and sang a piece from the Broadway musical “Little Orphan Annie”, “I think I’m going to like it here.” There were smiles around and the small apartment began to feel like home.
