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Just Push Play by Ginger B. Collins Sylvie turned away from Helen and back to the television, hitting buttons on the remote in a random sequence that brought gray fuzz, charts with arrows, and finally a black screen. “Rita bought me this thing,” she said. Each word was followed by a stab at the buttons with her red fingernail. “I just want to tape my soaps before we leave.” Helen rolled her eyes. “Are you still watching that trash? Forget it and let’s get out of here. We won’t get a good seat if we don’t leave now.” She grabbed at the remote. “You know it’s hard to hear the numbers if we don’t sit up front.” Sylvie gave a quick tug. “I’ve watched Guiding Light for over thirty years. I don’t want to miss it. That’s why Rita bought me this thing. ‘So you can get out more, and not miss your programs,’ she told me. She promised to get me started. But what happened? She plugged in a few wires, said it was ready, and didn’t stay to show me how it works. Now I’m left with this thing, a coffee ring on my tabletop and crumbs between the sofa cushions.” Sylvie went back to pushing buttons. “Don’t you have one of these VCR’s?” “I have one but the kids put it together. I just put in tapes and press PLAY.” The words hung in the air. Ernie would have put that VCR together in seconds. But the love of Sylvie’s life had been dead for ten years. Rita, their only daughter, rarely called or visited. Other than Helen and their youngest sister, Vernie, Sylvie was alone. Helen fiddled with her oxygen hose. “Oh, damn the front row.” She unstrapped the portable tank and peeled off her coat. “If my big sister wants those stupid soap operas, we’ll put a VCR together.” |
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