Saturday StoryCarlos felt something
strange. What was wrong?
He woke up late that
Saturday, as usual. The street sounds sailed through his window. People
were talking loudly. He heard laughter, mothers calling for their
children, kids playing, someone yelling. The music blared from the stand
at the corner. What was wrong?
apartment, everything was silent. He didn’t hear his wife fussing in the
kitchen. Rebecca usually made a big breakfast on Saturdays.
hear his daughter, Katie, bumping her shoes or fists into Jerry’s door.
He didn’t hear his son screaming for her to stop. Even the dog was
quiet. What was wrong? No radio. No conversation.
Carlos looked at the
clock across the room. Ten o’clock. Something was definitely wrong!
He pulled on his
jeans and ran his hands through his hair. He went slowly to the door and
listened. Nothing. He opened the door a little and looked around. Nothing.
He slid his body through the opening. His heart was pumping. He could feel
it pound his chest.
He started toward the
kitchen. His feet moved slowly from heel to toe.
Katie? “ He thought he heard a scuffle in the kitchen. He inched his way
through the kitchen opening. He jumped back startled.
Ferguson stared out the window of the café.
She could not stop thinking about her dad.
She was living at home with him, attending college full time.
Last night her dad was complaining of chest pain. It really scared her. She
had never thought about losing him. Sara was four when her mom died. Her
dad had always been there for her.
Now she could not stop worrying.
He was only 49. She
watched people go in and out of the shoe store across the street.
It reminded her of when she was a little girl.
Sara started working when she 10 yrs old.
Every Saturday, she walked to work with her dad.
He owned a shoe shop in Los Angeles.
Sara liked hanging out with her dad.
She also enjoyed helping the customers pick out shoes. Her dad
paid $1.50 for every pair of shoes she sold.
The most money she ever made in one day was $15.00.
Sara’s dad taught her how to budget her money carefully.
Each week, she wrote down how many pairs of shoes she sold.
She counted all her money. Then
Sara put 75% in a savings account that her dad opened for her.
She kept 25% to spend.
dad started talking to her about college when she was 3 years old.
“It’s never too early to start planning for your
education,” he always said. And he was right.
never touched the money in her savings account.
She waited until her
graduation day from high school.
On that day, she spent some money. She bought her dad a special
present for putting up with her teenage years.
She bought herself the class ring she wanted.
Sara felt like she was rich, but not for long. Her
dad agreed to pay for her tuition each semester. Sara, herself,
had to pay for her books. T
did not think that money for books was a great deal. Then she she went
to the bookstore that Fall. She
was surprised to find out how much it cost to go to college!
But it was all working out fine.
Now she was nearing the end of her first year. She was
looking forward to finding a summer job.
Sara’s outlook on life changed yesterday.
She saw the pain in her father’s eyes last night. He had
gripped his chest and fallen back into the chair. She knew things would be different. She skipped school today to sit in her favorite café.
She needed to think. Her
head was full of questions. Do
I need to start taking care of my dad?
Do I need cook healthy meals?
Should I start exercising with him?
What if this happens again?
What if he dies? What
will I do?
decided to make a list of important matters to discuss with her father.
She already knew what he would say:
“Oh, don’t be silly. There
is nothing wrong with me.” And
she would give him the speech about not blowing her off.
And then he would listen. She
would ask questions. He
would answer them. And she
would wish she were 10 years old again.
stayed at the café all day long. She
wasn’t hungry. She
hadn’t eaten all day, except for a muffin and coffee that morning.
At about 4:30, Sara looked up from her list.
Standing outside the café window was her father.
He looked down at her. She
smiled, and tears streamed down her face.
Her dad came inside and sat down.
He didn’t say anything at first.
He just looked at the paper, trying to make out the words between
her fingers. He wiped her
tears away, and said, “I’m okay, but you’re right, we probably
need to talk about some things.”
thought, "I''m so glad I didn’t have to give him the