She left and took that false memory, that dream, with her.
Bells jingle as I push open the store’s door, the open sign blinking a harsh greenish blue light.
“Hey man,” Marcus says, barely peering up from his newspaper. I nod a hello, spotting the aisle holding the office supplies and beeline to the scotch tape. I choose the generic, seeing it’s three dollars less than the Scotch brand, and make my way to the register.
“How’s Rebecca?” he asks, ringing up the tape and putting it in a plastic bag, the words thank you scrawled in red font.
“She’s doing good,” I nod, pulling out a few dollar bills. “No Thanksgiving plans?”
“Nah, keeping the doors open. We need the extra cash this year. Things have been pretty slow.”
I nod because it’s the same story I’ve been hearing from all Mom’s neighbors. Everyone’s been grasping from the same pile only to realize they’re at the bottom of the barrel. It’s fucked.
“You here for the rest of the day? I’ll bring you over a plate.”
He hands over the few pennies of change I have and I toss them in the little hospital donation box he has next to the register.
“It’s cool, man. Nance already said she’d bring me something.” He pulls the too-long-for-just-tape receipt from the register and I chuckle.
“Yeah, I think you’ll want me to bring you a plate.”
“Thanks man. Oh shit—wait.” He pulls out a LOLsurprise doll from a box under the register’s counter. “Promised Carm I’d save her one.” Of course she swindled Marcus into ordering a box of these for the store. I pull out a ten dollar bill but he holds out his hand. “Just throw in another slice of your mom’s pumpkin pie.” He winks and I roll my eyes but laugh.
“Consider it done.” I drop the ball into the shopping bag and push through the door, the crisp autumn air feeling icier by the minute. I regret not throwing on a jacket, solely relying on the gray sweater Mom gave me a few years ago. Once back on the sidewalk I pull out my phone, fighting the urge to look at the last message from Sloane for the hundredth time since I received it. I glance at it anyway, telling myself I need to open my message log to text Will back.
Sloane
It’s not that deep.
I wish my jaw didn’t twitch, that the words didn’t pinch. I asked her if she was okay, shortly after she bolted out my arms, and she had the audacity to tell me it’s not that deep. As if Iwantedthis anymore than she did. I force myself to click back open my thread with Will because it’s easier to focus on his life blowing up than my own.
I tap through the past few texts he’s sent me, most of it regaling just how boring his grandfather’s townhouse has been over the past week, some of it touching on the conversation he had with Olivia, but for the past few days it’s been radio silence, much to my dad’s dismay.
He’s been relentless in trying to gain information on Will’s disappearance and on who leaked the information that Ian used for the ‘hit piece,’ as he’s called it. It won’t take him much longer to realize he’s just at his Pop’s, to realize that a secret asbig as the one Will was keeping could only be kept underground for so long.
But I can’t help but wonder if, without Ian’s scheming, it ever would’ve come to light. If Will or Ben or Gen would’ve had the courage to deal the devastating blow unless the house of cards was already beginning to crumble. And if this is just the start, how does this end?
I turn the key and hear the Charlie Brown Christmas vinyl playing through the thin walls. I’m shocked by the lack of noise complaints from our neighbors.
“Finally…” Carmen sighs when I walk in and I hand her the tape along with the LOL Surprise Doll that Marcus snagged for her. She lets out a loud squeal and Mom jumps out of her skin.
“Christ Carm, don’t do that.” The spatula she’s holding is covered in a gooey pie mixture.
“I told Marcus you’d save him a plate.” I nod to the counter now crowded with casserole dishes of various sizes. I can see the flush of pride in Mom’s face, the one that reminds me just how far she’s come and I know she’s excited that she can provide for us, that she no longer feels like we are scraping by. I wonder how quickly that would dissolve if she knew just how much we were being helped, that without my father a lot of this wouldn’t have been possible.
I sit on the barstool near where she’s pouring a thick batter into pie crusts. I immediately dig into the fat stack of pancakes she left out for me but, unable to help myself, I reach over to swipe a finger through the mixture she’s stirring. I let the pumpkin cinnamon flavor settle on my tongue as she swats me away, rolling her eyes playfully while moving to preheat the oven.
“So..” she says, in that tone she uses when she’s beingmischievous. “Your sister’s informed me that a very striking young woman has dropped her off after rehearsal more than once.” I watch her eyes dart over and quickly find their way back to the oven. My silence condemns me as I slide back into my seat and shoot daggers at Carmen who smiles conspiratorially.
“Andydefinitelyhas a crush on her.” She over exaggerates just to annoy me and I reach over, pinching her arm. “OW!” She rubs the small red mark I left before slapping me hard on the arm. “Jerk! Don’t even lie. Mom knows it’s true. It’s so obvious.”
“It is pretty obvious.” Mom nods, sliding on her oven mitts before opening the oven.
“How can you say that? You haven’t even met her,” I scoff and I know I sound like I’m twelve, but these women know the exact right buttons to push and are relentless.
“The constant checking of your phone….the lost stare you keep doing…shall I go on?” She slides the pies in then crosses her arms, sly perception in her eyes as she meets my gaze. Understanding sits just beneath, a softness Carmen can’t pick up on because it’s meant for me, and I flex my jaw, rolling my lips as my mom cocks her head.
“He’s embarrassed!” Carmen teases using both fingers to pinch me.
