All my life, it seemed everything I’d done was bad.At least that was how my “father” had seen it.It didn’t seem to matter to my subconscious that he was dead.His disproval had followed me everywhere I went.
Learning to live without his voice in the back of my mind, berating me and telling me all the ways I’d let my family down, had proven to be easier than I thought it would have, but that was only becausemyvoice had replaced his, and now it was me who berated myself—for leaving my kid, for failing his mama, for failing my family, for being a fuck up.
For falling in love with my brother’s wife and then bailing when she died in my arms.
Candy had loved me, too, but not in the same way.It had taken me a long time to realize that I’d loved her because she was the only good relationship in my life.Eight years had passed since she died of an aneurysm on the side of the fucking road in the middle of downtown Wisper.Eight years since I broke her ribs trying to give her CPR and bring her back to life.Eight years since my brother asked me to tell him what happened, but instead I drowned myself in cheap liquor, then pills, and things only got worse after that.
“Fuck,” I breathed, wiping sweat from the side of my face with my hand.
I don’t know if I can do this.
Pulling out the tiny, folded scrap of Stu’s baby blanket I’d been carrying in my pocket for over four years, I squeezed it in my fist.It had worn thin between my fingers over time, but the red cartoon tractors and the frayed edges of the fabric soothed my fears and anxieties.The only picture I had of Stu had been rubbed clean of its ink long ago.Now, the only image I had of him was the one fixed in my mind, the one I’d stolen when I creeped on my family’s land, trying to catch a glimpse of his smile as my brother hoisted him over his shoulders, and Stu sat up there, thunking Bax on the head with his little fists.
If I could just get through the rough part with Bax and his new wife, and with my mama and Abey and Brand, maybe I could be a part of my kid’s world.Maybe they’d let me see him sometimes.Maybe then I’d know what his laugh sounded like.
When I made it into the center part of town and spotted the sheriff’s station, where I knew my sister would likely be, my heart began to pound.My mouth went dry, and as I leaned against the wall of the building across Main Street from the station, I realized I’d finished off the last of my water.
But it wasn’t a wall behind me; it was a door with a loose latch, and I stumbled through it.
“Can I help you?”asked a quiet voice behind me as I tried to stop my backward momentum and not fall on my ass.
I spun around and looked right into the eyes of my memory girl, and then her name hit me like a ton of bricks:
Avery Jane Harlowe.
AJ.My flower girl.
When she was little, she hated her first name, so she’d introduced herself to me as AJ, and it stuck.I used to weave wildflowers together and drape my homemade garland around her neck.She wasn’t a girl anymore though.She’d grown into a stunning woman, with hips made for a man’s hands.
“Hello-o-o?”She lifted her hand and waved it in front of my face.“Oh, I’m sorry.Maybe you don’t speak English.Um, hablas inglés?”
“Yeah,” I grunted.“I speak English.”
“Oh.I’m sorry.It’s just, you weren’t sayin’ anything, so I thought— Never mind.How can I help you?”
She hadn’t recognized me.I wasn’t surprised about that.It had been a long lifetime since we’d last seen each other.She had no way of knowing the bright sound of her laughter was the last thing I thought about every night before I fell asleep.After a long day in the woods, that light, glittering sound had been a balm to my soul and my aching back.
I couldn’t exactly tell her I’d stumbled into her store because I was trying to avoid facing my family a few minutes longer.
Instead, I looked around.
“So is this your store, or…?”
Her store.She’d gone and done it, just like we’d talked about when we were little kids.
I felt like I’d fallen into an enchanted faerie land.The light seemed filtered somehow, dusky and peaceful.A quiet, lilting song played from a speaker somewhere, but it was so low that I imagined if I listened hard enough, I’d hear crickets chirping and birds singing.
Just like we’d made decades ago, strands of flowers lined one whole wall.They had to be fake flowers; there was no way she’d have the time to string that many flowers every day, but they looked so real.
Bouquets topped mismatched tables and pot stands everywhere.Live greenery seemed to be growing right out of the wood, and buckets of fresh stems lined the wall near the door to the back storeroom, filled with multi-colored roses and lilies, dahlias and daisies, and so much baby’s breath.
When we were young, we used to have the run of downtown, and we’d be out there for hours in the summers, exploring and adventuring, and we’d stop at the store every now and again to check in with AJ’s gran.She’d give us water and always had a healthy snack or PB&Js waiting.
AJ stared at me now, really looking at the man looming in front of her, sweating and flustered.She was probably worried I’d come to rob her.
“Yes, it’s my store,” she said carefully.
“Nice place.”
