I was not your typical woman’s purse because I was actually marketed as a man’s purse. I was black leather, the shape of a rather large book (think Revised Standard Version of the Holy Bible and you’ll be close), and I had several zippered compartments and a pocket designed to hold a pair of glasses.
One of the main reasons my owner, who was called either Sweetheart or Mommy or Deb, chose me was because I also had a builtin wallet for all her cards. A full list of these cards would exhaust me, but I’m sure you can picture them: credit, debit, library, voter’s registration, health, various rewards types, driver’s license, and her Wesleyan University ID. She was working on her master’s degree. I also had a spot for dollar bills, a small area for coins, and an insert that held photos. My outside zipper ran around the exterior of three sides, which allowed Sweetheart Mommy Deb to open me up like a book to have access to everything stored inside. I was rather unique.
Sweetheart Mommy Deb was what you might call obsessive compulsive in that her behavior on a day-to-day basis was predictable in its routine. She used me everyday because I really was so special and accommodating she couldn’t imagine anything better. She wasn’t one of these women who changed out her purse to match her outfit. She placed me in the same spot whether that was at home on the entryway table, or at work on the top of her tall filing cabinet. She knew exactly where to find me.
When we were at home, I was able to see pretty much all the comings and goings of her household. She had two young children, who were well-behaved enough that they knew not to touch Mommy’s purse. I heard her tell them not to touch me, and they both were very good about leaving me alone. One time she forgot to put her office keys back inside me and her daughter took them. Her daughter was only two years old so I’m sure the keys were very tempting. I saw the child plop the keys inside the umbrella stand next to the table where I sat. I knew those missing keys were going to drive Sweetheart Mommy Deb crazy. And I was right. It took several days for her to find them.
When we were at the office, my perch on top of the filing cabinet allowed me to watch her work, but I couldn't see out the window of the door. It was pretty boring watching her mouse and keyboard all day long, so sometimes I nodded off and stopped paying attention.
The day Sweetheart Mommy Deb had to supervise a photo shoot is one I will never forget. We got to the office like usual, she laid me up on top of the filing cabinet, and sat down at her computer. But after only a few minutes, a man came into the office. He had three different cameras hanging from his neck. She printed off a schedule of some kind, they talked it over, she made a phone call, and then they both left. I was all alone but I wasn’t afraid or anything. I was often left alone for various different reasons. She might have a meeting to go to, or she might go get lunch. I was safe, or so I thought.
While Sweetheart Mommy Deb was away on the photo shoot, a woman I had never seen before came into the office. She opened the doors to a storage closet right next to where I sat. She rummaged around inside for a bit and then she closed the doors. As she turned to leave, she made eye contact with me. She walked over to me, and then she picked me up and turned me over several times. She unzipped me and pawed around inside opening up my compartments and storage spots. She even looked at the photos. There was one of Sweetheart Mommy Deb’s husband, one of each of her children, a family photo from years ago with her, her sister, and parents, and there were several photos of high school friends and a couple of people she’d known since grade school. But the one photo I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was her favorite, was the one of her Kindergarten best friend–the one who died. I heard her tell the sad story many times and remember her eyes when she looked at the photo. It was one of a kind, and irreplaceable. The strange woman finally put me back together and zipped me up. I felt quite violated at this rude mistreatment, and wanted the woman to just leave me alone. But she didn’t leave me alone. She tucked me under her arm and left the building with me. All I could think about at first was how Sweetheart Mommy Deb was going to react to my disappearance. She was going to lose her mind thinking she had been the one to misplace me.
The strange woman walked me out to a car and tossed me on the passenger seat. She then rifled around inside her glove compartment, but shut it without taking anything out. She thrust her arm under the seats patting about trying to locate who knows what. She then opened the back door and grabbed a roll of paper towels. She tore a piece of paper towel off one of the sheets before opening me back up. She took out the pen that was conveniently stored inside. She wrote from 185 Christian Street on the torn paper and stuck it inside me along with the pen, which she didn’t bother putting back in its specially designed slot. I then rode next to her for a long while as she drove, and drove, and drove. I’m pretty sure we even went out on the Interstate. When we finally arrived at her destination, she pulled the car into a garage, and got out. But she left me sitting on the seat.
I sat on the seat in the garage for several days after that. It was really dark and no one came or went. I must have dozed off because I was suddenly awakened by loud noises in quick succession–a bang, an alarm, and a terrible screeching sound that brought light into the garage. The car door opened and a different woman got in. She tossed a piece of notebook paper and a small purple pouch on the seat next to me. She jammed the car key into the ignition and started the engine. I then rode next to her while she drove off.
When the car stopped and the engine was turned off, the new strange woman sat looking at me for a full minute as if she expected me to tell her what was going on. But, honestly, I was just as mystified as she was. She finally reached over and picked me up. She unzipped me a few inches and stuffed her piece of notebook paper and her purple pouch inside. She put my strap around her wrist and let me swing by her side as she entered a grocery store. I bounced against her leg while she placed items in her cart. When we got to the checkout, she took me off her wrist, and unzipped me just enough to pull out the notebook paper, which she briefly consulted before taking out the purple pouch. She took out some money and paid for her purchases. She then put the pouch and the notepaper back inside me. As we headed back to her car, she placed me in the grocery cart in the place where Sweetheart Mommy Deb always put her two-year-old. I sat on the cold metal and watched as the new strange woman placed her bags in her car. She then wheeled the cart to the area designated for used carts, and turned away from me. Wait! I thought, I know I’m not supposed to be here in the first place but don’t leave me outside abandoned in a parking lot! But, that’s exactly what she did. She apparently had completely forgotten about me.
I looked around thinking someone might see and rescue me and hoped it wasn’t going to rain because my leather was not going to like that all. Not to mention what it might do to the photos inside, especially that really old one of the little girl who died.
It wasn’t too long before a tall boy came to gather up the used carts to take them back into the store. When he pulled my cart out of the holding area, he saw me right away. “Oh geesh,” he muttered, “not another one.” Apparently people leave their purses in carts all the time. Who knew? He took me to the customer service desk and said, “Another person left their purse in the cart, Mr. Gruber.” He held me up to prove it and handed me over to the man with a beard. “Thanks, Jake,” Mr. Gruber said.
Mr. Gruber then took me back to an office area and set me down on a desk. He unzipped me and went straight to my cards section. He first took out Sweetheart Mommy Deb’s drivers license. I happened to know that even though we lived in Connecticut, she still had her license from Florida. Mr. Gruber sighed. He then looked a bit further and found the Wesleyan University ID. I could see him nodding his head as if all was explained. Mr. Gruber looked up the phone number and punched it into his office phone. He waited for someone to answer. “Security office, please,” he said. A minute ticked by before he said, “Yeah, this is Bill Gruber over at Stop N Shop in Cromwell. A staff member of mine just found a purse in one of the shopping carts. Belongs to a student of yours?” They talked a bit longer and it was agreed that Mr. Gruber was able to drop the purse off at the school’s security office on his way home from work.
Mr. Gruber then wrapped me in brown paper like I was a package. He wrote something on the outside. He then picked me up, walked a few steps, and set me down. But he must have forgotten about me because no one moved me again for a long while. I lost track of time.
When finally someone remembered me, I was picked up and carried many steps. I assumed Mr. Gruber had finally made a plan to take me to Wesleyan, but for all I really knew, it was yet another purse napping. I couldn’t see anything.
I was blind to what was happening, which was rather scary. All I was certain of was that I was back inside a vehicle. The person driving turned on the radio and we listened to some idiotic talk about aliens. Not sure how much time elapsed but we eventually stopped, and the person picked me up. I could hear footsteps as we walked to wherever we were going. A door opened and closed and then my handler, whose voice I recognized as Mr. Gruber’s, said, “Hi, names’ Bill Gruber. I called a couple weeks ago about a purse that was left behind in one of our carts at Stop n Shop. Seems it might belong to one of your students? I wrote her name on the outside there.” I felt a finger poke my paper wrapping. There were some shuffling sounds and I was handed over to someone else who said, “Give me a sec while I look this name up.” There were some clicking sounds, probably from a computer. The person then said, “Yes, she’s one of our graduate students. Their semester just ended so not expecting her back on campus for another week, but I have her contact information.” Mr. Gruber thanked the guy who then stowed me, presumably, under his desk.
Between the phone ringing every minute or so and the predictable answer of: “Wesleyan University Security, how may I help you?” and a radio scratching out the voices of security guards on patrol reporting in every so often, the office proved to be a noisy place. They said things like “ten four” and “over” a lot. A television served as further background noise to the opening of a door, which would lead to a conversation between the officer on duty and various visitors, after which the door would again open. The hinges needed to be oiled.
She didn’t call herself Sweetheart Mommy Deb, but I recognized her voice instantly when she stepped up to talk to the officer. He said, “Yes, it’s here some place. I was the one working when the guy from the grocery store dropped it by.” Sweetheart Mommy Deb said, “Grocery store?” The guy said, “Yeah, the grocery store where you left your purse in the cart.” If I’d had a hand and a head, I would have slapped my forehead and said, “Good grief.” Sweetheart Mommy Deb was going to be very confused.
She thanked the officer and took the wrapped package. I then felt her removing the paper. When I could finally see, she was staring at me in mystified disbelief. Well, no wonder! It was a pretty strange thing that had just happened to me, and, by extension, her.
When we got home, I was so happy to be back in familiar surroundings. And I couldn’t wait for her to open me up to find all the weird stuff I had picked up since she last saw me. There was the piece of paper towel with the address of her office building written on it. There was the notebook paper with a list of groceries written on it. And there was the purple pouch with $17.34 inside. Her cards were all there, the money she had in the bill compartment was all still there as were all her coins, but what made her the happiest was that the photo of her Kindergarten friend was still safely preserved.
Sweetheart Mommy Deb made two changes in the aftermath of my disappearance. First, she took the little photo of her childhood friend out and put it in a frame. She placed it with other photos on a shelf in the house. She also started locking me in one of her filing cabinet drawers whenever she left me alone in the office, which made us both feel much more secure.
Copyright, DJ Anderson, 2023
