Things Good Girls Don't Do

by Gary, Codi

  But she was so doped up on painkillers she kept saying the same things to him. The same apology over and over, and the pain and anguish she felt hurt him more than the rest of it.

  “Shhh. Stop. I forgive you, Mom. Just stop.” She started crying brokenly, and he held her hand tighter. “It wasn’t Dad’s leaving that hurt. It was that I thought you stopped loving me.”

  She shook her head and squeezed his hand. “You are the best thing I have ever done. I never stopped loving you.”

  Chase brought her hand up, kissed it, and held it against his face. He closed his eyes. His mother’s voice, broken and strained with pain, started singing, “‘You are my sunshine, my only sunshine . . .’”

  In a hospital room, filled with the late afternoon light and the sound of his dying mother’s voice, Chase wept for the first time in sixteen years.

  Chapter Fifteen

  * * *

  THE SERVICE WAS held two days later, with just a few of his mother’s friends, Buzz, and Chase attending. She had bought a plot for herself and Buzz, which he was a little surprised by, since she had always struggled with money. They buried her in the lush green grass with two white roses lying on top of her coffin.

  He really didn’t want to go to the funeral reception, but Buzz insisted. As he sat among a small crowd of people in their later years, he heard stories about his mother. Stories of humor and antics. Stories about how stubborn she was, or that she was the best friend in the world.

  And then a short, stooped lady with blue-gray hair sat next to him, a sad smile on her wrinkled face. “Do you remember me?”

  He didn’t, not really, and said so. She just smiled a little wider and said, “I’m Mrs. Dowry. I lived next to you for years and would watch you after school while your mother was working.”

  He remembered her then, an older woman who always smelled like fresh-baked cookies and cinnamon. “Yeah, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Dowry, how are you?”

  Patting his arm, she said, “Oh, I’m okay. Moved to Phoenix to live with my daughter twenty years ago to help her with her babies, and now I’m the one who needs help getting around since I had my hip replaced. These old bones just don’t move like they used to.”

  “I’m so sorry, can I get you something?”

  She shook her head and handed him an envelope from her purse. “This is for you, but I figure she probably told you everything already?”

  “About my dad?” She nodded. “Yes, she told me.”

  “Hmph. Always told her she had more looks than brains, the way she behaved, but the girl had her demons. One thing I never doubted, though, was how much she loved you,” Mrs. Dowry said.

  His laugh was tinged with bitterness. “Yeah, well, I wish I could say that, but I had my doubts.”

  Smiling sadly, she said, “I know you did. I could see it and it broke my heart, but you gotta know she wasn’t being cruel, just dumber than a box of bricks. But she took care of you, got you into that art class, paid for—”

  He broke in. “No, my sixth-grade teacher pulled strings to get me into art.”

  She shook her head. “No, baby, your teacher called your mother to tell her that she should get you into private lessons because the seventh-grade art teacher had said no. Your mama went down to that school with your sketchbook, and she battled it out with him until he agreed to let you in.”

  Chase was speechless. “I didn’t think she knew I could draw.”

  “’Course she did,” she said with a snort. “She used to brag about you. Used to tell everyone down at the diner how great you were. Even framed and hung your first signed comic up on the wall.”

  “And her boss let her?”

  Mrs. Dowry’s mouth dropped open. “Boy, don’t you know anything? Your mama bought that diner nine years ago. Buzz and she own it. They fixed it up and redid the whole look. She really didn’t tell you?”

  He shook his head. He remembered his mother borrowing money from him years ago, but she had said it was for her car. She’d paid it back fairly quick, and he hadn’t questioned it. “I never knew.”

  She reached out and patted his hand. “You should go have a look-see. I have a feeling you’re gonna be really surprised.”

  THE NEXT DAY, Chase took a drive out of town to check out his mother’s diner. He pulled up to the little yellow building and the huge neon sign above and couldn’t take his eyes off it.

  Sunshine’s Diner.

  He got out and walked inside, staring at the cream walls. There was a wall with rainbow letters that read COLORING CONTEST, and below that clusters of crayon-colored suns and rainbows hung cheerily. On the rest of the walls, framed pictures and artwork hung perfectly. There was the framed copy of Destructo Boy, with his bold signature across the bottom. There were several more framed pictures of him at Comic Con, and a cheesy one of him holding up Destructo Boy with a crazy grin on his face, showcasing his greatest achievement. He moved down the wall and found one of his mother and him on his graduation day, smiling for the camera like they were happy and close. Like they knew each other.

  But he had no idea who this woman was. His mother had ignored him, barely cared for him. The woman who had owned this diner had taken pride in her son.

  Next to the graduation picture was one of Buzz and her on their wedding day, looking happy and in love in front of a little chapel. His mom had definitely been lucky when she’d found Buzz. He was a good man.

  And the last picture on the wall was one of his mom and him when he was a kid, coloring with crayons at the kitchen table. His hair was lighter, in a bowl cut, and he was missing his front teeth. His mother knelt next to him in a waitress uniform, her brown hair poufy, but her eyes were on him and her face was soft, her smile warm.

  It was the same look he’d seen on Katie’s face when she looked at him.

  “Can I get you something . . . hey, you’re Lorie’s boy.” Chase turned to the round waitress with too much makeup and a happy smile. “Well, don’t that beat all. Oh—” she lost her smile —“I was so sorry about your mama. She was a real good woman and a great boss. Buzz wanted to close down for the funeral, but we all said, ‘Now, Lorie would come back to haunt us if we didn’t stay open to customers.’ So we drew straws to see about who would go and stay.”

  Chase was stunned by all of it. He reached out to the woman and gave her a hug. “Thank you.”

  She patted his back and offered, “Let me make you a Sunshine breakfast omelet, and afterward you can try a slice of your mama’s blackberry cobbler.”

  He sat at the counter. Under the glass top, his mother had scattered pictures he’d sketched as a kid. Dragons, suns, and even pictures of people they knew lay beneath the protective glass. He ran his hand over the counter lovingly and said, “I’d like that.”

  KATIE WAS WASHING Kirsten Winter’s hair when she heard Chase’s name.

  “I am all for him leaving town. The man is a lowlife, getting into fights and then hurting poor Katie, although I am glad to see her back to normal. I was worried about her for a while there.”

  Mrs. Andrews and her friend were sitting in Holly and the other stylist, Danielle’s chairs, just talking to each other like the women around them didn’t exist. Like Katie wasn’t a few feet away, listening to every word.

  Mrs. Andrews had come by a few days earlier to apologize for the things she had said, but Katie had taken it with a grain of salt. Most of the women who had started boycotting K.C.’s had only held out a few days before they were rescheduling, and Katie, being the bigger person, had magnanimously made them appointments . . . for a week or so out. By the time they dragged themselves in, their hair was looking a little raggedy. Mrs. Andrews had probably just come back because she wanted the senior discount. Or was it because Chase was gone and she thought Katie was going back to being meek and mild?

  Not a chance, of course, but she’d figure that out if she kept pushing her.

  “Oh, I know, and what she did to Jimmy’s truck? So out of character. No matter what a ma
n does, it is important to always act like a lady.”

  “And it’s all that Chase’s fault. Bad influence, he is.”

  Katie started to shake with rage, especially because her stylists kept shooting worried glances her way but said nothing. Even Kitty acted like she was busy jotting down something, although her eyes were shifting back toward Katie worriedly. The rest of the women in the waiting area and manicurist chairs ignored the two gossiping women.

  Katie finished with Kirsten’s hair and led her back to her chair. She turned on the blow-dryer, but her attention was on the two older ladies, with their holier-than-thou attitudes and opinions. It infuriated her, the way everyone in town, young or old, treated Chase. The only people who hadn’t been bad-mouthing him lately—or her, for that matter—were Becca and Steph. Even Eric had called him an idiot when she’d been in Buck’s on Saturday, playing pool with Jared, Steph, and Justin. She appreciated the outrage—she was furious herself—but she could do without their opinions.

  When Katie thought she heard the familiar roar of a motorcycle, she moved to the window quickly, but her heart sank moments later when she saw the blue blur of a street bike race by.

  Stop looking for him. He’s not coming back for you.

  Eleven days without a word, wondering if he was okay, had taken its toll on her. She acted like she was fine, but she still dreamed about him, still reached for him in the morning and caught herself driving by his parlor. But she was done, completely done with him. When he got back, she was going to ignore him, or better yet act friendly, like it was no big deal. Like she’d never fallen in love with him and he’d never broken her in every way.

  And maybe she would eventually believe it and stop eating every piece of chocolate in sight before she ended it up in her fat jeans.

  She turned off the dryer and started curling Kirsten’s highlighted strands.

  “You must miss him.”

  Kirsten’s comment made Katie meet her eyes. They were filled with sympathy, and she cleared her throat past the lump that had formed. She hated when people pitied her. It made her want to cry more. “Yeah, I do.”

  Kirsten nodded. “I’m sorry. About the way people talk about him. And you. I love that cherry top you wore the other day. Sweet Tarts has such cute stuff.”

  “Yeah, it does, and Becca’s lingerie is awesome sauce.” Katie laughed.

  “Oh, I know.” Kirsten lowered her voice and asked, “Have you ever been back in the curtained section?”

  Katie shook her head. “Not yet. Have you?”

  “Yeah. It’s got some great stuff.” Kirsten’s cheeks flushed.

  Leaning down, Katie whispered, “Did you know if you spend a hundred in there, she gives you a fifty-dollar sample bag from the black-curtained room?”

  Kirsten squealed. “Really? Oh, I’m going to go over there next. I bought this cream that . . .”

  “What are you two whispering and screeching about?”

  The question came from behind Katie and she turned to face Mrs. Andrews. “We are talking about dildos, Mrs. Andrews.”

  Titters and giggles erupted from the other women in the salon, and Mrs. Andrews companion’s eyes widened with her gasp. She had come in with Mrs. Andrews and Jenny, who was getting a pedicure with some of her friends.

  Mrs. Andrews’s eyes narrowed and she said firmly, “Young lady, you do not talk about those things in public.”

  Katie pointed her curling iron at her and said, “With all due respect, you asked, I answered. And as you are not the shop owner, I suggest that if you don’t want to hear about it, you cover your ears or leave. You seem to have no problem discussing inappropriate things when it suits your needs. Kirsten and I were whispering, trying to protect your delicate sensibilities, while you were blatantly discussing my private life as loudly and with as much ignorance as you like.”

  Mrs. Andrews’s friend looked uncomfortable, which made Katie think more charitably of her.

  Mrs. Andrews just lifted her nose indignantly and countered, “If you don’t want people to talk about you, then you shouldn’t behave so coarsely. Throwing yourself at that man in public and dressing like a common slut; it’s a travesty for someone like you. You were always such a good girl, and how your poor mother . . .”

  Katie stepped toward the older woman. “If you dare bring my mother into this, I will brand you with this curling iron. You do not have the right to tell me what my mother would say. Good or bad, my mother loved me, and she would have wanted me to be happy.”

  Mrs. Andrews watched the curling iron warily and said, “But that man left you without a word, proving exactly what a miscreant he is. How happy can you be?”

  Katie set the curling iron down. “Forget what Chase did to me, you didn’t like him before.” She turned her attention to all of the women, “All I’ve heard over the last few weeks is how I’m too good for him. That he wasn’t worth my spit, but he is a good man. He’s an artist, went to college on a scholarship, and is funny and charming. He has overcome a lot to become a successful man. Chase is a great guy, and when you say I can do better, it just makes me feel like an idiot. You judge him just like you do anyone who hasn’t lived here their whole life or doesn’t fit with your sense of normal.”

  Just that moment, Becca walked through the door and Katie pointed. “And Becca. She’s been here almost two months and it wasn’t until she dragged me into her store that I really got to know her. She makes the cutest clothes, in all sizes, and she tells it like it is. No bullshit. She is awesome, and none of you have bothered to get to know her or look at her clothes. Oh, except for the ones who loved the clothes I bought. Then it’s okay, because Katie likes them. Katie, who is all sweet and doormat-y and will just let you say whatever you want. Just because my mother raised me to be polite and respectful, you act like I shouldn’t ever make mistakes.”

  Becca interjected, “Ummm, I don’t know what I walked into, but . . .”

  Katie waved her hand and continued. “We put people in these little boxes of preconceived notions and we don’t like it when they don’t fit. We need to stop acting like our shit doesn’t stink, because we’ve all fucked up at one point, even you, Mrs. Andrews.”

  The place exploded with applause, and Jenny Andrews shouted, “Mama, I don’t know why you hate Chase so much. Daddy told me about that tattoo you got in Panama City when you were in college.”

  Mrs. Andrews’s face turned red as she shouted, “Jenny Lynn!”

  Jenny shrugged from the pedicure chair and responded, “What? You try to make the rest of the town feel bad because we aren’t as perfect as you, but wanna know what else Daddy told me?”

  Mrs. Andrews gritted out between clenched teeth, “Don’t . . . you . . . dare.”

  “Mama smoked weed at a Hank Junior concert!”

  The women of the salon let out gasps of surprise but quieted down when Mrs. Andrews’s companion raised her hand. “I followed around a very hot band and had a torrid affair with their drummer. Before my marriage, of course.” She mouthed the name of the band, and the majority of the women, minus Jenny and her friends, were impressed.

  “I like girls,” Becca called out, grinning.

  “Me too!” Kitty said, and Becca looked at her with interest.

  One by one, each woman made a confession, and Katie was laughing and cheering along with everyone else. When everyone had spoken, Katie said to Mrs. Andrews, “Come on, Mrs. Andrews, your daughter confessed for you. Is there anything else you might like to share?”

  Mrs. Andrews looked at Katie, as if trying to see inside her brain for what ace she had up her sleeve. When Katie’s face remained placid, she looked around at the others and mumbled something too quiet for anyone to hear.

  “What?” her daughter yelled.

  Mrs. Andrews glared and shouted, “I’ve been inside Sweet Tart’s Boutique’s black-curtained room.”

  The room fell silent before whistles and cheers met her announcement, and she smiled slightly. Mrs. Andrews�
��s brown eyes caught Katie’s and she nodded.

  It was the best apology she was going to get from the stubborn rag.

  Becca yelled over the noise, “Anyone who comes in today for a purchase will get a ‘naughty confessions discount’ of fifteen percent off! Hell, let’s make it twenty!” When the cheers rose up again, Becca waved her hands for everyone to quiet down and asked, “So Katie, what’s your confession?”

  I’m the biggest idiot in the world when it comes to men.

  Katie looked around at the expectant faces and said, “I recently got a tattoo.”

  The whole place burst with excitement and Katie smiled. Sometimes living in a small town wasn’t so bad. At least you had a community that cared about you, even if some people had a backward way of showing it.

  Chapter Sixteen

  * * *

  FOUR DAYS AFTER his mother’s funeral, Chase and Buzz left the lawyer’s office, and Chase felt like he could sleep for days, he was so exhausted. The emotional drain of getting to know his mother for the first time, really, and discovering all her secrets had taken its toll.

  Buzz squeezed his shoulder and said, “I know your mother wasn’t always right when it came to you, but she was proud of you.”

  “I just wished she’d told me instead of everybody else,” Chase said as he walked to Buzz’s car. He opened the door and sat in the front seat of the cherry-red convertible, leaning his head back with a sigh.

  Buzz shook his head as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Women do crazy things when they love someone, just like men do stupid things. I guess you’ll learn that when you find a woman to love.”

  Chase’s thoughts drifted to Katie and he said, “I already did, but I messed it up.”