by Jane Slate
Her last customer of the day was an older woman who sat down at a booth in the back of the tavern. Grace watched as she leaned against the dirt-smudged window and looked out of it. A truck rumbled by and splashed mud onto the sidewalk. It splattered on the window as well, causing the woman to jump back, only to laugh at herself.
There was something about her that Grace found intriguing. She couldn’t see her face from where she was standing, but her laugh was loud and full, a surprising sound from such a tiny woman. It reminded Grace of her mother the last few years she was alive. She had gained so much life and charisma and happiness despite the cancer that ate away at her.
Grace grabbed a menu and approached the woman, getting a better view of her. She appeared to be on the far edge of her sixties but her features were still lovely and delicate. It was obvious that she had been quite the beauty once. Around her neck, she wore a floral-patterned scarf. Her silver curls fell around it, framing her face. She wore a pair of wire-frame glasses that perched on the bridge of her nose and reflected the fluorescent lighting above her.
But it was the flowers that caught Grace most off guard. In her lap sat a bouquet of daisies wrapped in crinkled brown paper.
It had been a long time since Grace had wanted flowers, let alone gotten them.
They brought her back to a moment from her childhood. When she still wondered what it would be like to be her sister.
When Grace was eight and Angie was ten, Angie won recognition in the local paper for her involvement in the church choir. Around the same time, Grace joined the junior choir and was given a solo almost immediately.
On the day of the performance, Grace’s parents swore they would come to support her. She was so elated by the prospect of making them proud that she practiced her vocals the entire week leading up to the event.
When the day arrived, Grace’s mother and father sat in the second row. She sang so loud and beautifully that she later lost her voice but it was worth it. After years of living in Angie’s shadow, she finally had her time to shine.
When the performance was over Grace ran to her mother, Elizabeth, for a reaction, but as usual, she was too distracted by Angie to notice. They were arguing, something they rarely did. Elizabeth wanted Angie to join a local beauty competition but Angie had no interest in doing so. She told her mother that she wouldn’t feel comfortable and the conversation quickly turned heated.
Angie was the one to end it.
She walked away from her mother and embraced Grace.
“This is your moment,” she told her.
Their father grabbed his ex-wife by the arm and told her to give it a rest.
Neither one of them said anything about how well Grace had done.
Later that night, Angie snuck into Grace’s room with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath her arm. Grace sat up in bed and examined them. Her eyes watered at the gesture.
“Thank you,” she whispered in the darkness as her sister climbed in bed beside her.
“They remind me of you,” Angie said with a smile.
“Wild. Beautiful.”
Beautiful.
It was the first time anyone had ever referred to Grace as that.
“I’m sorry mom and dad didn’t congratulate you,” Angie continued, keeping her voice low. “They’re assholes, you know?”
Grace nodded and grazed her fingers over the petals. That marked the moment she gained an appreciation for flowers.
Angie reminded her of the pretty purple ones that grew in isolated fields. Sophisticated and free. Growing up, Grace wondered why those kind of flowers were never sold in shops or seen in bouquets. Then, one day, it dawned on her.
Grace picked a handful of them to give to Angie after she had found out she would never have children, but when she opened them up, she realized they were covered with brown spots where insects had chewed away at the petals.
Unlike daisies, they were only perfect on the outside.
After that, Grace no longer wondered what it would be like to be Angie.
“Hi,” Grace said, tearing her eyes from the woman’s flowers.
She set a menu down in front of her and uncapped her pen, pressing it to her notepad.
“What can I get you?”
The woman looked up at Grace, momentarily surprised by her presence. Her full lips turned up at the corners as she smiled. She leaned forward, resting her upper body against her elbows.
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” she said, pointing to her ear. It was then that Grace noticed a hearing aid. “You’ll have to speak louder than that.”
“Sorry,” Grace said, louder this time. “I was wondering what I can get you. We have some excellent pecan pie.”
Grace nodded and gestured to the flowers with a wink.
“Those are beautiful. Who is the secret admirer?”
The woman looked down and chuckled.
“Tell me, have you ever met a man who could pick decent flowers?” she questioned.
Grace shook her head.
She had a point.
“I bought these for myself dear,” the woman said with a smile. “I saw them in a little flower shop a few streets over and decided I liked them. You know, I couldn’t remember the last time I bought something just because I felt like it.”
Grace shifted on her feet, unsure of what to say.
“What can I get you ma’am?” she questioned for a third time, looking over at the clock.
It was just past ten p.m. They would be closing soon.
The woman hesitated, pushing her glasses up on her nose. She looked over the menu in her hands.
“What would you recommend sweetheart?”
Grace thought for a moment.
“Well, we’re known for our apple turnovers.”
The woman smiled, closing the menu and handing it back to Grace, who slid it in her apron.
“Sounds excellent,” she said.
“I’ll also have a cup of coffee. Black.”
With that, Grace scribbled coffee and an apple turnover on her notepad and gave the woman a fleeting smile.
“I’ll be right back ma’am.”
“You don’t have to call me ma’am,” the woman called after Grace as she retreated back behind the counter.
Grace looked over at her and nodded.
“She’s quite the character huh?” Sue Ellen said in passing, setting down a fresh pot of coffee on the burner.
“Yeah,” Grace responded underneath her breath, rubbing her temple. “Does she come here often?”
Sue Ellen nodded and grabbed a pile of dishes, carting them into the backroom to be washed.
“Yeah,” she answered low enough for only Grace to hear.
“Every Sunday night like clockwork. Congrats though. You’re the first waitress I’ve ever had that has gotten her to order anything other than coffee. Her names Kathy, by the way.”
Grace raised her eyebrows and grabbed a clean mug, pouring coffee into it. She opened the warmer where the turnovers were kept and put one on a plate. She juggled both items across the room to Kathy’s booth and set them down in front of her.
“Thank you dear, it looks amazing,” Kathy said. She opened a packet of sugar and stirred it into her coffee. Grace started to walk away, but Kathy grabbed for her apron to stop her.
“Is there a problem?” Grace asked, exasperated. She looked over at Sue Ellen for instruction but she simply shrugged.
“I can see your bruises, you know,” Kathy whispered, catching Grace off guard. She snatched her apron from her hands and backed away from her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Grace answered evenly, trying her best to remain cordial.
She wasn’t in the mood for this. All she wanted was to go home.
Kathy nodded and tipped her head to the side as he curls fell into her face.
“Bullshit,” she said cheerfully, taking a sip of her coffee. Her lipstick left a red mark on the rim of the mug. She wiped at the brown liquid left behi
nd on her upper lip with the back of her hand.
“Excuse me?” Grace countered, placing her hands on her hips.
This woman was out of her mind.
“Who are you letting hit you?” Kathy continued nonchalantly.
“Your husband? A boyfriend?”
Enough was enough.
Grace turned once more to leave but was stopped in her tracks by the next words that left Kathy’s mouth.
“I’ve been there. That’s all.”
Grace slowly turned around to face her.
“You don’t know me,” she whispered defensively, but she didn’t sound very convincing.
Kathy shrugged.
“You remind me of myself when I was young,” she replied.
Grace crossed her arms over her chest. She looked around the restaurant for Sue Ellen but she had disappeared into the backroom and was nowhere to be found.
“It won’t stop you know,” Kathy continued. “Trust me dear. It won’t. You seem like a smart girl. You should leave while you still can.”
Grace’s eyes began to water but she willed herself not to cry.
“Did you?” she heard herself ask.
Kathy was silent. She contemplated the question, taking a small bite of her turnover.
“My husband died before I could,” she finally answered. She looked up at Grace and they met eyes.
“I doubt you’ll be as lucky.”
Lucky.
The word struck Grace as odd but she didn’t say anything. Kathy grabbed her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, her eyes lingering on Grace’s wedding ring.
“Do you have children?” Kathy questioned.
Grace started to shake her head but couldn’t find it in herself to lie.
“Yes,” she answered softly. “Three. Two girls and a boy.”
Kathy smiled.
“I always wanted children. I never could get pregnant, though. Never had a pregnancy last past the three month point.”
Her voice was sad and far off sounding. Grace relented and took a seat across from her in the booth, removing her apron. Kathy stared at her, her brown eyes warm and patient.
“I’m sorry,” Grace told her sincerely.
Kathy smiled and waved a hand in the air. “It’s alright dear.”
“Sometimes life just has other plans.”
She reached into her clutch purse and pulled out a small box of cigarettes, lighting one. She extended it to Grace but she shook her head, clasping her hands in her lap. Sue Ellen didn’t allow smoking in the tavern, but since it was so close to closing time, Grace didn’t think she would mind Kathy having one.
“I quit after my first child,” Grace lied. She dug her fingers into the underside of the table, accidently making contact with a wad of chewed gum.
Kathy laughed and took a drag of the cigarette, flicking ash as she pursed her lips. She had all the spirit and candor of someone half her age. She exhaled a cloud of smoke from her lungs.
“My husband hated when I smoked. Now, I do it all the time.”
She snapped her purse closed and grabbed the flowers from her lap, handing them over to Grace with a nod.
“Here,” she gestured. “I want you to have them.”
Grace shook her head and tried to hand them back to her.
“I can’t, they’re yours,” she said.
But Kathy insisted.
“Keep them, dear,” she said with a smile. “You look like you need them more than I do.”
With that, she slipped a twenty from her purse, and set it on the table. It was more than enough to cover her food and Grace’s tip. She paused in front of the door and turned around to face Grace.
“You leave that man before he starts hurting your children too. Because he will. You do it for them. They won’t like it, but they’ll adjust,” she said evenly, her tone suddenly serious. “I never had children of my own, but I raised five foster children up from babies without any help from my husband. He didn’t love them because they weren’t his. But, I suppose that’s another story.”
She paused, reflecting on her words.
“If I could do things differently, I would have left him the first time he ever hit me. Before the children ever knew about it. Now, ask yourself, dear. Do you want to have this same regret when you’re a little old lady like me?”
Grace swallowed hard as tears surfaced in her eyes and threatened to spill over her eyelids. She shook her head, not making eye contact with Kathy. There was an air of truth to her words.
One that couldn’t be ignored.
Kathy took another drag of her cigarette and glanced out the glass door. It had stopped raining and the clouds had pushed away, bringing the night sky into clear view.
“Well,” she said, pressing her clutch beneath her arm. “I guess I better get going.”
Before Grace could say anything, Kathy left as quickly as she had arrived. The door chimed shut behind her and Grace watched her go, tracing her fingers along the yellow petals on the table in front of her.
An insurmountable level of grief settled over her like a plague. After helping Sue Ellen close up shop, Grace sat in her car and sobbed as she counted her tips.
Fifty bucks and some change.
Not bad for a Sunday, and yet, the flowers in Grace's lap meant more to her than any amount of money.
They symbolized hope.
A concept she had long since abandoned.
Chapter Twelve
“Where the hell have you been?” Miller demanded, stomping into the living room as Grace hung up her jacket by the door. He wasn’t drunk this early in the day, but he was still mean. She ignored him and entered the living room, bending down to give each one of her children a hug and a kiss.
“I was working,” she answered bitterly, slapping her tip money into his palm. “One of us had to.”
Miller snapped into defense mode. He grabbed Grace by the arm and shook her. She tried to pull away from him but he tightened his grip. She turned to tell the children to go to their room but they were familiar with the signs of their parents arguing and had already left.
“I thought I made it clear that I wouldn’t have any wife of mine out working,” Miller spat.
He stepped back and scrutinized Grace’s outfit. It was a modest skirt and blouse combo that she had borrowed from Angie for the interview, but Miller had an uncanny ability of finding something inappropriate about everything she wore.
“And what the hell is this?” he continued, pulling at Grace’s skirt. His voice was loud and grating, his breath agonizingly hot against her still-bruised jawline.
Miller snatched the flowers from her hands and threw them to the ground, stomping on them.
“What I’m wearing is perfectly fine,” Grace bit back, raising her voice.
“If you don’t want me to work then maybe you should stop drinking away what little bit of money we still have! Maybe you should try to, oh I don’t know! Find a job instead of spending all your time with the club! Winter is coming and there are things we need, Miller! They aren’t just going to surface out of thin air!”
Breathless, Grace kicked off her heels and stormed into the kitchen but Miller threw out an arm to stop her. He went to grab her by the throat but he hesitated when he noticed the bruising on her neck. An ugly remnant of the previous beating he had evoked upon her.
“Yeah,” Grace whispered evenly. “I don’t think you want to do that.”
Miller stomped away from her and reached under the kitchen sink for an unopened bottle of whiskey.
“Don’t think for a second that you can boss me around,” he said, grabbing his wife by the arms. He cracked the seal and took a long sip.
A heat spread over Grace.
Kathy was right.
She was sick of backing down. No more apologies would fall from her mouth. No more excuses. She pulled away from Miller as hard as she could manage, catching him off guard. He stumbled backwards against his armchair, his eyes wide with shock.
“Fuck you,” she yelled, her eyes never leaving Miller’s
He stared at her with an open mouth.
“Excuse me?” Miller countered.
Grace laughed a sardonic laugh.
“You heard me!” she yelled, squaring her shoulders. “FUCK YOU!”
She marched into the living room and reached down to turn off the TV. Rage flared across Miller’s classically handsome face. He stepped forward, balling his hands into fists.
“You little fucking cunt,” he yelled, hammering a hand against Grace’s temple before she could react. He grabbed a handful of her red hair and began to slam her head against the wall.
“You have a lot of nerve talking to me like that woman! You know what I think? I think you like this…”
His acid tongued words clashed together angrily as they fell from his mouth. He threw her to the ground with a rough shove but she refused to give him the reaction he craved.
A silence fell over the house. Time slowed to an abrupt stop. Grace pulled herself to her feet and stood in shock at the pain that radiated through her head, causing it to throb. She stared at her husband, the man she had once loved, incapable of understanding what she had ever seen in him. He pointed a calloused finger at her and took another long drink.
“I make the rules around here.”
Grace did everything in her power to fight back the tears that surfaced in the corners of her eyes, but that didn’t keep them from spilling over. When she finally found it in herself to speak, her voice cracked and her resolves crumbled.
“You don’t want me to work? Fine!” She jerked away from him. “I’ll pawn things! We’ll start with your collection of Marine crap! Or what about your guns? I’m sure those would sell just fine!”
Miller reached out to slap Grace again but a fire had been lit inside of her. She grabbed his hand in the knick of time and held it back.
