Fresh Tracks

by Georgia Beers

  “Morning, Ms. Forrester.”

  “Hi there, Fred. How’s life treating you?” Amy responded, a friendly sparkle in her blue eyes as she picked a blue plastic handbasket from the stack near the door.

  “Can’t complain.”

  “That’s good to hear. Tell Connie I said hello.”

  “Will do.”

  Sophie and Molly exchanged glances. “My God, we are in Walnut Grove,” Sophie whispered, causing Molly to clamp a hand over her own mouth to keep her laughter from bursting forth.

  “Come on, you two,” Amy said with a good-natured rolling of her eyes at the teasing of her friends.

  Sophie followed Molly as they headed toward the produce, taking in her surroundings and especially the women in the area--the young blonde behind register three was particularly attractive, her friendly smile inviting and her long neck decidedly lickable. It was something Sophie had recently noticed about herself: she seemed to be constantly checking out the women. Not leering. She was too polite to be that obvious. But she looked. More than that, she liked to look. And more than that, she fantasized. A lot.

  Sometimes, she surprised herself with the quickness of her imagination. She could look at a woman across a bookstore, for example, and no sooner did she register the fact that said woman was very attractive than her brain would immediately toss her an image of the woman naked and beneath her, head thrown back, throat exposed, voice straining. Sophie’s face would flush a deep crimson and her heart would race and she’d look around in embarrassment, absolutely positive somebody nearby would be looking at her in disgust, as if the pictures from her head were projected onto the wall like a filmstrip from elementary school. This type of thing didn’t start happening until two months after Kelly had left. Somewhere deep inside, Sophie knew it was her brain’s way of telling her there were other fish in the sea and it was time to start noticing that fact, but she still resisted, feeling somehow unfaithful. Which was ridiculous and she knew it.

  As if to drive the point home, Sophie found herself staring at Molly’s ass as Molly walked in front of her. When she realized what she was doing, she nearly gasped out loud, and veered off in a different direction to collect herself. Finding the meat counter at the back of the store, she leaned against the glass and chewed on her bottom lip while two sides battled in her head, one telling her there was nothing at all wrong with looking and appreciating and the other side telling her she was a big fat pervert. She found herself zeroing in on the conversation between the butcher behind the counter and the heavyset, gravelly-voiced man in front of it some six or seven feet away. She feigned careful study of the Virginia baked ham and fresh lamb chops, hoping her eavesdropping wasn’t totally obvious.

  “She’d better hope she never comes back, I’ll tell you that,” the heavy guy said.

  He was the epitome of the word “redneck” as far as Sophie was concerned and she almost laughed at his presence in the store because he was exactly what she expected the place to be filled with. His green and white John Deere baseball cap was filthy with greasy fingerprints. His flannel shirt was threadbare and worn at the cuffs, and the camouflage vest over the top of it created a color and pattern clash of eye-assaulting proportions. His battle-worn Levi’s hung too low, probably due to the protrusion of his enormous beer belly, and she knew that if he squatted down or bent over, she’d be treated to way more of his most-likely-flabby ass than she ever wanted to see. His work boots were crusted with mud beneath the wetness from the snow and his hands were dirty. He was unshowered, unshaven, and reeked of cigarettes even across the distance between them.

  The butcher nodded and gave a sort of grunt of agreement, a sound that told Sophie he didn’t really want to be sucked into a conversation with this guy. Contrary to the redneck, the butcher was neat and clean, his face smooth, his silver hair precisely combed. He pulled four plump pork chops from the case and plopped them on the scale as the redneck went on.

  “No note, no phone call, nothin’. Bitch just took her clothes and left.”

  “Imagine that,” the butcher said.

  “Didn’t even take the damn dog. Yappy little thing ain’t worth a damn anyway. Terriers ain’t no hunting dogs.”

  “She left the dog, even? Boy, she must have really wanted to get the hell away, huh?”

  The redneck completely missed the sarcasm in the butcher’s tone, but Sophie caught it and suppressed a grin. The next thing the redneck said caught her attention, though.

  “Well, I locked the damn worthless runt out and I haven’t seen him since. Went running into the trees and prolly got eat by coyotes by now. Stupid thing. I ain’t spending my hard-earned money on dog food, that’s for sure. He can fend for himself in the wild for all I care.”

  “You locked that little thing out in this weather?” The butcher stopped what he was doing and stared straight at the redneck, accusation in his eyes. “What the hell’s the matter with you, Carl?”

  For the first time in the conversation, Carl faltered. Just slightly. “Well, I…you know, I didn’t want the damn dog to begin with.”

  The butcher shook his head in apparent disgust. “You’re a piece of work.”

  “Hey, I was the one who was left, here.” Indignation colored Carl’s tone. “My wife just ran out on me without so much as a good-bye. A little sympathy would be nice.”

  The butcher nodded as he tossed the white paper-wrapped package on the counter. “I’m sure the black eye she had last week had nothing to do with her leaving.” He turned away, effectively ending the conversation.

  Carl stood still for several seconds, apparently searching for some sort of comeback. Finding nothing, he grunted, snatched his pack of chops off the counter, and took his leave, lumbering up the aisle in his work boots, passing Amy and Molly as they came to take his place at the meat counter. Sophie watched in disgust as he tracked the two with a leering look in his eyes.

  “You okay?” Molly asked.

  Sophie blinked, filing away the information she’d just acquired regarding the dog. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” She gestured at Amy who was in conversation with the butcher. “I thought we came here to pick up a few little things. Don’t tell me she’s buying more food. There’s enough in that house for all of us to survive for a month.”

  Molly grinned. “She’s asking if there’s more bacon in the back. The cooler on the wall is empty and she’s afraid we’ll run out.”

  Sophie snorted. “And what? There won’t be anything else to eat?”

  “You know how she is,” Molly said with a shrug.

  “You two do know that I’m standing right here, right?” Amy asked. “That I can actually hear you?”

  The butcher grinned as he went to check his freezer in the back.

  *

  When they exited the store, the snowflakes had thickened in the air, falling slowly like fluffy cotton balls from the sky. Sophie started the Jeep, then ordered her passengers to sit tight inside while she brushed it off, feeling the snow settle gently in her hair. She looked off into the distance where the backdrop was nothing but trees. It was quite beautiful. She wasn’t necessarily fond of the winters in upstate New York. As a matter of fact, she liked to complain about them as much as the next native and was just as familiar with all the jokes. There are only two seasons here: winter and construction. But this kind of snowfall, quiet and pretty, almost made winter seem worthwhile.

  Amy and Molly were chatting about one of Molly’s students as Sophie climbed back into the Jeep. Her thoughts turned to Kelly, as they so often did, and she remembered how much Kelly had hated the snow and the winter. She complained incessantly--she was freezing, she was bored, she was fat. No amount of reassurance from Sophie ever seemed to make things any better. Sophie tried to get them involved in things, knowing activity was the key to surviving the cold, gray season. She signed them up for a volleyball league, a racquetball league, a book discussion group, and a movie club. Nothing seemed to satisfy Kelly until the gym membership Sophi
e got her for her birthday. That’s where Kelly met her and that’s when Sophie’s life headed for the crapper.

  No good deed goes unpunished.

  Her thoughts turned to Laura’s husband. Sophie felt a weird sort of kinship with him, having her own experience of her partner cheating on her right under her nose. She wondered if he had suspected anything at all, if he’d felt her slipping away from him and had no idea how to stop her departure. Had he suddenly felt like a spectator in his wife’s life? Like she was doing her own thing and he just happened to be there? Had he watched her sleep at night, wishing he could see into her dreams, wondered if he made even the smallest appearance in them? Had he wondered what to say and how to say it, suddenly and inexplicably uncomfortable with everyday conversation with her? Would he have given his very soul to have things back the way they were the first time he’d felt Laura’s love for him? Sophie wondered if he knew he was losing her before she actually went and if it had been a tangible pain in his chest, so piercing he’d often felt he might be having a heart attack.

  She pressed her leather-clad hand to her own chest and rubbed it absently as she drove, remembering what it had felt like. It had been months before the constant ache had subsided, and still, every now and then, a particular recollection could bring it screaming back. Not nearly as often as it used to come, which was a good sign, she knew, but the memory of it was enough to make her stomach clench in anticipation and fear.

  “What do you think, Sophie?”

  Molly’s voice startled her and she blinked rapidly as if returning from some sort of trance. She glanced into the rearview mirror and met inquisitive green eyes.

  Enough reminiscing, she scolded herself, annoyed that she’d allowed herself to drift so far. “I…” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I was daydreaming. What were you saying?”

  Kristin

  Kristin watched as Darby set a semicircular log on its end on the huge stump behind the garage. Jo swung the axe with the precision of Paul Bunyan and the log split neatly in two. Kristin picked up the two pieces and stacked them with the others on the neat pile along the edge of the woods. It was mindless physical labor, and Kristin was glad to have something like that to occupy her. It was perfect…until Darby started talking.

  “So, Kristin,” she said, her breath billowing vaporously in the air. “What’s your company do?”

  “Advertising,” Kristin answered as succinctly as possible.

  “And you are?”

  “Vice president.”

  “Nice.”

  Kristin found herself counting the erratic clicks as Darby spoke. Finally, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Doesn’t that thing annoy you?”

  “What thing?” Darby looked confused.

  Kristin pointed to her own tongue. “That thing.”

  “Oh, this?” Darby stuck her tongue out. “Nah. You get used to it.”

  “The constant…banging against your teeth doesn’t drive you nuts?”

  Darby shook her head and shot her a grin full of mischief. “It’s worth it.”

  Kristin looked confused. “Worth what?”

  Darby’s eyes twinkled. “Never been to bed with a woman with a tongue ring, have you, Kristin?” Then she winked.

  “You know,” Jo cut in smoothly as Kristin blushed, “Kristin started on the ground floor at her company.” Her voice was tinted with a layer of pride that surprised Kristin. “She joined the company at the bottom of the totem pole. Now she’s almost at the top.” The axe swung and hit its mark with a satisfying crack.

  “Wow,” Darby said with a nod. “Impressive.”

  “That’s the problem with the younger generation these days,” Kristin commented as she stacked. “They don’t understand what it means to work their way up. They want to start at the top.”

  “Yeah, but if the top is what’s offered…” Darby let the sentence dangle.

  “It’s usually not.”

  “But sometimes it is. That’s how it was for me at Langford.” She set another log down on the stump. “I mean, it wasn’t the top top, but it was far from the bottom.”

  “You work at Langford?” Kristin tried to hide the envy that colored her tone.

  “Only for a few weeks. I didn’t like it.”

  “You didn’t like…wait. You mean you quit? You quit Langford?” She turned to Jo. “She quit Langford?”

  Jo shrugged and swung.

  “You don’t get a job at a company as prestigious as Langford and then just leave. What’s the matter with you?” Kristin gaped at Darby in disbelief.

  “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t. Jobs there are too hard to come by. When they’re offered you snap them up.”

  “Why?”

  Kristin caught the shadow of a smirk on Darby’s face and suspected that she was enjoying needling her. To her own dismay, though, she was unable to leave it alone. “Why? Why? Because, that’s why. It’s Langford. They’ve got a great setup. You’d move up the ladder steadily. You’d be pretty much set for life.”

  “But I wasn’t happy.”

  “I bet you were making a ton of money. Right out of college. God, that’s amazing. Most people would give their right arm for an opportunity like that.”

  “I was doing okay. But you’re not listening. I wasn’t happy.”

  Kristin groaned in frustration. “So what? Who is? If the money’s good and the benefits are good and there’s opportunity for advancement, you stick it out for a while.”

  Darby blinked at her and made a face. “That makes no sense. Why on earth would I ‘stick it out’ someplace if I hated it?”

  “It’s called responsibility. You pay your bills, you take care of your partner, you put money away for the future.”

  Darby’s expression grew almost smug. “Wow, Molly was right. Money, money, money. Is that all that’s important to you? Jesus, all you need is a penis and you’d be the typical American white male. Are you a Republican, too? I bet you voted for Bush, didn’t you?”

  Kristin’s blood began to boil and she was almost thankful when Jo stepped between the two of them. “Okay, okay. That’s enough.” She shot a warning look at Darby. Kristin saw Darby’s eye glimmer like she was enjoying the act of pushing Kristin’s buttons.

  “I’m going inside,” Kristin said quietly, then took her leave and tromped through the snow to the house.

  Molly was right…

  What the hell did that mean? Had Molly been talking about her—about their situation—behind her back? To Darby of all people? The thought made her stomach churn with the unpleasantness of betrayal.

  Money, money, money. Is that all that’s important to you?

  Was it? Kristin shook her head. Of course not. Of course that wasn’t it. A lot of things were important to her, she just needed money to take the best care of them that she could. That only made sense. What did being happy have to do with making a living?

  Kristin stopped in her tracks as if she’d been slapped by the ridiculousness of the statement.

  “Jesus Christ, I hate that little bitch,” she muttered to the snow at her feet.

  *

  Inside, Laura was sitting at the dining room table, the cordless phone in front of her and the terrier curled up at her feet. The dog lifted his little brown head at the sound of the front door and gave a halfhearted yip.

  “Hey,” Kristin said as she shed her boots and coat. “Any luck?”

  Laura grimaced and shook her head. “The nearest animal shelter is closed this week for the holiday. I called the police station to see if anybody had reported a dog missing, and nobody has.”

  “Maybe you’ve got yourself a new pet.” Kristin ruffled the dog’s fur.

  Laura looked the slightest bit uncomfortable with that idea. “Somebody’s got to be missing him. Look how sweet he is.”

  Kristin sympathized with the worried look in Laura’s eyes. “It’ll work out.”

  “I just think about somebody knowing he’s gone and ho
w scared they must be for him.”

  “He was very lucky to be found by you. Look at it that way. Without you, he’d be a pup-sicle by now.”

  Laura smiled at the dumb play on words. “I suppose you’re right. I just can’t help feeling like I’m stealing him, you know?”

  “Think of it as dog-sitting.” Kristin smiled and touched Laura’s shoulder, hoping she was making her feel the tiniest bit better. Though she couldn’t explain why, it bothered her to see Laura uncertain. She had such a great smile—those dimples were to die for—and Kristin just wanted her to smile again.

  Glancing up and out the window, she saw Sophie’s Jeep turn into the driveway. “Looks like the gang is back.” It surprised her to realize that she was happy to see Molly return, had missed her while she was gone. The thought brought a smile to her lips, one that soon faded as Molly exited the Jeep and, rather than coming into the house, strolled behind the garage and stood chatting with Jo and Darby.

  Kristin tried to swallow her disappointment. For the first time since her arrival, she seriously wished she hadn’t come. She could be at home right now. Better yet, she could be in her office working on something that would take her mind off this crap. Why be here with people she didn’t like? With people who didn’t like her? Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, she knew that was a gross overgeneralization, but she didn’t care.

  Darby didn’t like her and she certainly didn’t like Darby. Christ, my own wife doesn’t even like me anymore, she thought with bitterness. She didn’t know Laura or Sophie well, so they didn’t count as friends. Amy and Jo had always been sweet to her, but they’d been Molly’s friends before Kristin had come along. During her stay, she’d felt their distance, felt that they were keeping her at arms’ length. Jo’s comments about her rise at work had been the first inkling she’d had that maybe she wasn’t number one on their shit list.

  Because we’re all lesbians, we have to automatically like each other? Who made up that rule?