shows
up, we’ll make sure he never does again.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said sarcastically.
“That’s the answer. We’ll just beat him to death and bury him in a
shallow grave. That’s a good idea.”
He tilted his head to the side as if
convinced it was a good idea. Then he laughed and shrugged like
he’d meant it as a joke all along. “I didn’t say anything about
killing him, just hurting him a little.”
“I didn’t come here to hire a hitman.”
“Well, while we’re on the subject, why did
you come here?”
“I guess I just wanted to be somewhere that
I felt comfortable,” said Alma. “Although it’s kind of weird here
now. It’s all so different. In a good way, but different.” She
drank her beer and scanned the apartment.
“You know my offer still stands, right?”
“What offer?” she asked.
His shoulders sunk and he sighed, tired of
playing this game. “You know what offer. I’ll always take you back.
If you want me, I’ll drop whatever else I’ve got going on for you.”
He looked away as if embarrassed, crossed his arms, and leaned
against the counter on the other side of the kitchen. “I wish it
weren’t true, but it is. No matter how many times you break my
heart, you’re still my girl, for as long as you want to be.”
“Stop it,” said Alma. His confession was
everything she wanted to hear, and she felt her ears flush as blood
rushed to her face.
“I’ll always love you like a new favorite
song.”
She loved it when he said that, and he knew
it. He grinned at her, and if it weren’t for her conflicted
emotions she would’ve hopped over the counter and torn his clothes
off right then. Instead she cleared her throat and said, “I have to
go to the bathroom.”
“You know where it is.”
Alma finished her beer and then headed for
the bathroom, a tiny room that was the only private spot in the
apartment. It had only a shower, toilet, and sink in it, and all
three were jammed as close to one another as possible. She marveled
at the cleanliness of the room as she closed the door and stared
into the mirror.
“Don’t do this, Alma,” she whispered to
herself. “I can’t believe you’re going to do this.” She set her
purse on the counter to search for her lipstick and perfume before
doing her best to fix her makeup. “This is stupid.” She repeated
the phrase over and over as she went through her routine, applying
mascara, foundation, and even a pinch of glitter between her
breasts. She winked at herself in the mirror and said, “You’re such
a slut.” She was almost giddy, and couldn’t help but smile. The
on-again-off-again nature of her relationship with Paul was torture
most of the time, except for when they were just about to kick
things off again. In these moments it felt like she’d just started
dating someone, but without the nervous tension that led up to
having sex for the first time.
She stopped and stared into the mirror. “Do
you really want this, Alma? Are you sure?” She thought about it,
and then smiled as she nodded. “Yes I do.” She snapped the button
closed on her purse, confident in her decision to rekindle her
relationship with Paul, if even for just one night.
Alma lifted the toilet cover to pee.
There was a used condom floating in the
bowl.
CHAPTER FOUR
Doors
Widowsfield
March 14th, 1996
“Well look at you two,” said the paunchy
waitress at the Salt and Pepper Diner. Her red hair was curled and
a pair of sunglasses was stuck in it as if she planned to leave
work to enjoy the sunny day any moment now.
“Hi, Grace,” said Desmond.
“Hi, Mrs. Love,” said Raymond.
“Hi sweetie,” Grace rubbed the boy’s buzz
cut as she walked up to their booth. “Now, isn’t it a school day?
What are you doing here now? Did school let out early or are you
playing hooky?”
Desmond chuckled, slow and uncomfortably. He
was a simple man, a mechanic at a garage a few miles out of town,
and he lacked social graces. He wore
up, we’ll make sure he never does again.”
“Yeah, sure,” she said sarcastically.
“That’s the answer. We’ll just beat him to death and bury him in a
shallow grave. That’s a good idea.”
He tilted his head to the side as if
convinced it was a good idea. Then he laughed and shrugged like
he’d meant it as a joke all along. “I didn’t say anything about
killing him, just hurting him a little.”
“I didn’t come here to hire a hitman.”
“Well, while we’re on the subject, why did
you come here?”
“I guess I just wanted to be somewhere that
I felt comfortable,” said Alma. “Although it’s kind of weird here
now. It’s all so different. In a good way, but different.” She
drank her beer and scanned the apartment.
“You know my offer still stands, right?”
“What offer?” she asked.
His shoulders sunk and he sighed, tired of
playing this game. “You know what offer. I’ll always take you back.
If you want me, I’ll drop whatever else I’ve got going on for you.”
He looked away as if embarrassed, crossed his arms, and leaned
against the counter on the other side of the kitchen. “I wish it
weren’t true, but it is. No matter how many times you break my
heart, you’re still my girl, for as long as you want to be.”
“Stop it,” said Alma. His confession was
everything she wanted to hear, and she felt her ears flush as blood
rushed to her face.
“I’ll always love you like a new favorite
song.”
She loved it when he said that, and he knew
it. He grinned at her, and if it weren’t for her conflicted
emotions she would’ve hopped over the counter and torn his clothes
off right then. Instead she cleared her throat and said, “I have to
go to the bathroom.”
“You know where it is.”
Alma finished her beer and then headed for
the bathroom, a tiny room that was the only private spot in the
apartment. It had only a shower, toilet, and sink in it, and all
three were jammed as close to one another as possible. She marveled
at the cleanliness of the room as she closed the door and stared
into the mirror.
“Don’t do this, Alma,” she whispered to
herself. “I can’t believe you’re going to do this.” She set her
purse on the counter to search for her lipstick and perfume before
doing her best to fix her makeup. “This is stupid.” She repeated
the phrase over and over as she went through her routine, applying
mascara, foundation, and even a pinch of glitter between her
breasts. She winked at herself in the mirror and said, “You’re such
a slut.” She was almost giddy, and couldn’t help but smile. The
on-again-off-again nature of her relationship with Paul was torture
most of the time, except for when they were just about to kick
things off again. In these moments it felt like she’d just started
dating someone, but without the nervous tension that led up to
having sex for the first time.
She stopped and stared into the mirror. “Do
you really want this, Alma? Are you sure?” She thought about it,
and then smiled as she nodded. “Yes I do.” She snapped the button
closed on her purse, confident in her decision to rekindle her
relationship with Paul, if even for just one night.
Alma lifted the toilet cover to pee.
There was a used condom floating in the
bowl.
CHAPTER FOUR
Doors
Widowsfield
March 14th, 1996
“Well look at you two,” said the paunchy
waitress at the Salt and Pepper Diner. Her red hair was curled and
a pair of sunglasses was stuck in it as if she planned to leave
work to enjoy the sunny day any moment now.
“Hi, Grace,” said Desmond.
“Hi, Mrs. Love,” said Raymond.
“Hi sweetie,” Grace rubbed the boy’s buzz
cut as she walked up to their booth. “Now, isn’t it a school day?
What are you doing here now? Did school let out early or are you
playing hooky?”
Desmond chuckled, slow and uncomfortably. He
was a simple man, a mechanic at a garage a few miles out of town,
and he lacked social graces. He wore
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