Story

Pat Allen

When the telephone rang that morning I remember thinking, "Who's calling this early?" It was 6:45 a.m. Although I'm normally an early riser, a few more minutes sleep on a Saturday morning would have been welcome. "No rest for the weary," I thought as I picked up the phone. "Hi, Debbie Iverson." I immediately recognized the voice and smiled. "Hi, Pat Allen." I'm sure both of us were smiling by then. It was so good to hear Pat's voice. It had been almost two years since I had seen her. "Debbie Iverson, I had a dream about you last night, and it was so real. You were so mean to me. You wouldn't even talk to me. I couldn't wait to call you this morning." I started laughing and said, "Pat, you know I wouldn't be mean to you. What was it about?" Pat told me that in the dream I was sitting on a couch and that I just kept looking at her and wouldn't speak to her even though she was talking to me. In the dream we were over to her girlfriend's Ruby's house. After Pat finished telling me about her dream I asked her where she was right then. She told me that she was over to Ruby's house and that she had spent the night there. I knew that Pat did not drive so I asked her if she needed a ride home. Pat said, "Debbie Iverson, I'll be waiting for you all day." I laughed because I knew what she meant. Pat Allen always said if I said one hour it might be two or three. "Pat, I'm going to surprise you. What time is it now?" By then we had been talking about 15 minutes or so. I told Pat, "I am going to pick you up at exactly 8 o'clock." Pat started laughing, saying, "Okay, Debbie Iverson, we'll see." At exactly 8:00 a.m. I knocked on Ruby's door. Pat Allen opened the door and hollered, "Debbie Iverson, I can't believe this. You are actually on time." I laughed and said, "I told you I would be." She gave me one of her big hugs and a big kiss. Pat Allen was always sweet and affectionate, never afraid to show how she really felt. She never changed. Pat was still standing by the door as I went to sit down on the couch. Just as I sat down, Pat gasped and said, "Ohhh," and threw her hands up to her face. She looked as if she had seen a ghost. "Pat Allen, what's the matter?" I said. She kind of shook herself like she was cold and said, "Debbie Iverson, this is just like my dream, you were sitting exactly in that same spot on the couch. This is just like it happened. This is scary." I said, "Yeah, but this time I'm talking to you," and we both laughed. My original intention was to pick Pat up and give her a ride home but that soon changed. We ended up stopping by my house first, then over to her house. Once we started talking it was like we were catching up on everything that had happened since we last saw each other. We talked about how come it had been so long since we had seen each other and we didn't really know. I think we both agreed that part of it was just being so caught up in trying to keep your head above water, doing your own thing. It didn't really matter because we made up for lost time. Pat Allen and I caught up on each other that day. We talked, laughed, remembered things that had happened over the years and just enjoyed each other. We even had a little toast with a little corner of gin that Pat had. Eighteen years hold a lot of memories and the hours began to fly by as we traced back through the years. Somebody once asked me why I called her by her full name--Pat Allen. I don't know. It was probably because she always called me by my full name, Debbie Iverson. I didn't know anything about her until the day my husband told me not to worry about a baby sitter for Rachael; he knew who would watch her. That's the first time I heard the name, Pat Allen. She lived next door to Rick's mom's house with her son and four daughters. Rick had been laid off from work and was taking care of Rachael who was just 6 months old. When it was time for Rick to return to work he told me that Pat Allen would watch Rachael. Of course I wanted to know who she was and how he knew her. I was surprised to learn that Pat and her girls had taken care of Rachael plenty of days that I thought Rick was baby-sitting. In a way I was a little peeved when I found out that someone had been baby-sitting when I thought Rick was doing it by himself. I think I was probably even a little jealous when I realized that this was a house full of women I didn't even know that my husband knew, not to mention that they were watching my baby. My feelings of apprehension quickly disappeared as soon as I met Pat Allen and her family. When I met Pat it was just like I had always known her. She gave me a big hug and said, "No wonder Rach is so pretty, look at her mama." It was as if Pat took me in right then as one of her girls. I could tell that there was nothing phony about Pat Allen. Pat and her girls were all crazy about Rachael. I would come home some days from work and they would have her hair corn rolled in the prettiest styles. She was the center of attention in Pat's house and they adored her. Most of the time they didn't want me to take her home as soon as I got there. Everybody wanted to hold her all the time--Rachael went from one set of arms to the next. Pat used to tell the girls that they were spoiling Rachael and as soon as they put her down, Pat would pick her up; they just plain loved Rachael. Pat Allen became like a mom to me and also a good friend. I could talk to Pat about anything and not be afraid what she would think or say. Pat was also one of the most down-to-earth, gonna tell you the truth, even if you didn't like it, people I had ever known. I think Pat was what I call a feisty woman. She called the shots as she saw them and didn't hold back too many punches. I used to love to see her get dressed up when she was going out. She would throw her shoulders back and really strut. Her walk said 'I know I'm somebody' and she was right. Pat Allen helped me through some really rough times by just being a friend and being there when I needed her. During the first six years I knew Pat, my marriage was going steadily downhill, year by year. As we sat that day and talked we laughed about how I used to stand down in her hallway and cry like my heart would break. I was in the stage of feeling really sorry for myself. One of those rough times that Pat helped me was when Rick started staying out all night. I used to lay awake all night and cry and be really miserable. I think Pat probably got sick of me crying all the time and decided to tell me about real life. In a very calm, matter-of-fact voice, Pat said, "Debbie Iverson, you look like hell. You better stop staying up all night, losing sleep, worrying about Ricky. Worrying yourself to death won't change things and won't make him stop staying out all night and doing whatever he thinks he's big enough to do. But I can tell you one thing, you'll be an old woman before your time if you don't take care of yourself. You have your children to think of and if you get sick you won't be able to take care of yourself or them." Pat Allen gave very straightforward advice to me more times than I can remember. Sometimes, it was painful to even listen. I can't remember her being wrong. It was during one of my conversations with Pat that she said something I have never forgot. She said, "Everybody in this world is just alike; in some respects we're just like animals, when we shit, we turn around to see what it looks like." I was kind of embarrassed when Pat told me that but it was really a profound truth. That was Pat Allen. As it turned out, my day with Pat Allen ended about 6 o'clock that evening. We just sat at her kitchen table and talked about old times, past times, and present times. Pat had not been able to work for some time because of her health. That really bothered Pat because she was an extremely proud and independent woman. Not afraid of hard work, Pat had done many kinds of jobs and wanted to continue working. Most recently, Pat had nursed her daughter's friend's mother who had cancer. Pat saw her through to the end. Pat Allen's heart was very big and very soft. Although she was not in the best of health even then, she wanted very badly to do some type of work. I was working full time as a secretary but I have always had a couple of side jobs to make ends meet. I've wallpapered, painted, made clothes, and at one time or another sold Tupperware, Avon, Mary Kay, and even wrote the numbers. At that time I was involved in a company I was very excited about. I was a distributor for environmental products which was a fancy way of saying I sold water purifiers. Once I began explaining to Pat what I did she became very interested and animated about the opportunity. We spent a long time talking about the business and how she could fit in. By the time our evening came to an end, Pat told me that she could see how this business would be like a God send to her. She told me that she had been praying that God would send her something that she could do for herself and she felt this was an answer to her prayers. She was brimming over with ideas of how she would run her business and was way ahead of me on ways she intended to set up appointments, intending to start the next day. I knew that Pat was not just talking either; she had discovered something and was ready to run with it. That day I spent with Pat Allen was like a renewal of a friendship that I valued very deeply. By the time I was ready to leave the day was gone. My car was parked outside in the lot and Pat wanted to see me safely to the car. As I told Pat good-bye and that I would see her the next day I began to walk away. I must have walked about 25 feet and turned around and looked at Pat. She was standing there looking so proud and happy, like she had a new lease on life. I looked at Pat and walked back to where she was standing and gave her a big hug. As I hugged her I said, "See Pat Allen, that dream you had was just a dream, I could never be mean to you and not talk to you." Pat gave me another one of her big hugs and told me she would call me that evening. True to her word, Pat jumped right into getting appointments. The first time she called me that evening she was so happy. She said, "Debbie Iverson, I have talked to my sister Vita." Pat had not talked to Vita for almost a year because they had some type of misunderstanding. Pat said she just decided to call her and tell her about what she was doing and just talk to her. She did just that and before the conversation was over her and Vita were sisters and friends once again. She also talked to her two other sisters and told them about the things she was doing. By the time Saturday was over Pat told me that she had called her son Wayne who was in the service, Kim, her daughter who was away at college, Steph, Debbie, and Karen, her other children, just to tell them how happy she was and what she was going to be doing. I don't know how many people Pat Allen called that evening, but every time she called me back she was more and more excited. Pat told me that she just felt like her life was changing right then and everything was going to be all right in her life from now on. I believe that before the evening was over, Pat had called just about everyone she really wanted to speak to who meant anything to her. Around eleven o'clock that night Pat Allen called me once again. This time Pat didn't talk about the business or about appointments. Pat said, "Debbie Iverson, I am so happy. I was sitting here and all of a sudden I just started singing spirituals. I have sang every church song I ever knew. I've sat here and sang songs I didn't even know I remembered. My neighbors probably think I have gone crazy or something over here. I've been singing at the top of my voice for hours. I was just so full and I just started singing." We talked for a few minutes more. Pat said, "I'm going to bed now, I'm tired. Thank you, Debbie Iverson, I love you." I replied, "Love you too, Pat Allen." With that, we hung up. Little did I realize how many times I would repeat our conversation during the next few days. I went to bed thinking about Pat Allen. I sat up in bed. I thought I was dreaming. I remember thinking, "What time is it? It's still dark outside. Who could be calling this late?" My heart started beating real fast. The telephone wouldn't stop ringing; I wasn't dreaming. "Hello." All I could hear at first was someone crying. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhh...." I started getting real scared. By then I was practically screaming, "Who is this?" "Debbie Iverson, Mama's dead!!!!!" As soon as she said it, I knew it was Debbie, Pat Allen's oldest daughter. Now I could hear myself crying and moaning, "Noooooooooo she can't be, I just talked to Pat Allen a little while ago. What happened?" By then Rachael had woke up and was crying too. When Debbie and I gained control and started talking I found out what had happened. Pat had suffered a massive coronary. She knew something was happening to her and had called Debbie. By the time the ambulance got there it was too late. Pat Allen was dead. Debbie told me all this while I just sat on the phone, rocking and crying. By the time I hung up the phone it all seemed like a bad dream. I remember thinking, "Oh God, Pat Allen is gone." Over the next few days I talked a lot about Pat Allen and about my time with her during the day we spent together. I told everybody who knew Pat how she had been so happy when I last talked to her and about her singing spirituals that night. We marveled at how things had happened and how she had a chance to talk to all her kids and family before she left here. One of the things I'll never forget is Debbie saying to me, "Debbie, I know my mother was happy when she died." She told me how Pat Allen had said, just that day, "Debbie, I'm so happy." I often think of her. I think of her singing that night in what must have been a glorious outburst of song. Pat Allen didn't like to be late--I think she was preparing for her home-going. I thank God for the gift of knowing Pat Allen and for the privilege of being a witness to her joyful ending. Good-bye, Pat Allen. I love you.