by Lisa Wells
Aggie picked up her beer.
“What’s got a girl like you in a place like this?” she asked as she cleaned the counter under her drink.
Part of her was happy she didn’t appear to belong in a place like this. The other part wished she blended in more. Shadows don’t get jumped by hoodlums. “I’m supposed to meet a woman named Darlene. Do you know her?”
The bartender gave her a more thorough glance. “I might.” Her voice had notes of protection and wariness. “Why?”
“Umm.” Darlene might not want people to know she had a grown child. “She’s got something I’m buying. Craigslist.”
The bartender’s lips tightened. “I’ve told her a hundred times not to be selling that shit in my bar.”
She startled. “Oh. No. I didn’t mean drugs.” Was that what got her busted on a felony charge?
“Sure you didn’t. She’s over there. Slumped in the last booth.”
She glanced in that direction. There was a woman collapsed over the table as if passed out. “Is she okay?”
The bartender shrugged. “Don’t she look all right?”
Aggie trudged to the booth. Gazes followed her. She was glad she wore sturdy boots meant for ass kicking and not notice-my-ass stilettos that would be a handicap in a fistfight. She sat on the opposite side and waited for the woman to notice. She didn’t.
“Mom?” How weird to say that word out loud. She reached over and shook her shoulder.
The woman roused. Grumbled.
“Mom?” Aggie said again, a little louder. She liked saying the word. It felt comforting.
The woman sat up in a half-assed sort of way. Like if her hands were to move, she’d face-plant at once. Her hair resembled a dyslexic rat’s nest, her makeup a five-year-old playing dress up. She struggled to get both of her eyes open. What few lashes she had were matted together by cheap mascara. “Who the hell are you?”
The butter thickened in her throat. “Your daughter.” The words came out dry and brittle. God. How could this be Mom?
“Ain’t got one of those. Threw the one I had away a long time ago.”
The fist of slurred words landed squarely in Aggie’s unsuspecting gut, and she flinched. Her eyes watered. She had to open and close her mouth several times before words fell out. “You didn’t throw me away. You asked Meemaw to raise me.”
Mom scratched her head. Squinted her eyes. “Beth?”
Aggie placed a hand on her stomach. Thank God she hadn’t ate today. Did Mom have more than one daughter? Or did she forget the name of the one she had? “Not Beth. Aggie. Do you remember me?”
“I remember you. Fucking bane of my body. Lowered my going cost by half.”
This time the fist of words caught her in the jugular, and she gasped for air. Waves of bile washed through her and threatened to spew. “Why’s that?”
Mom cackled like a person in an old dilapidated insane asylum. The kind where you couldn’t tell the real patients from the ghost patients. “You look smart. Figure it out.”
“But if you didn’t want to have a baby, why didn’t you take precautions?” She’d wondered this so many times over the years. If there was one thing Meemaw preached, it was birth control.
“You got any money?”
Aggie twisted her lips. Another answer, not to the question she’d asked but to the one she’d been flipping over and over since receiving Mom’s call. “Is that why you asked to see me?”
Mom grabbed Aggie’s beer, drained it, and belched. “It sure as hell wasn’t to see you.” She wiped her hand across her mouth, belched again, and slammed the mug on the table, causing Aggie to jump.
“It wasn’t?”
“Hell no. You went and got me in trouble with my man. Got home from work and he wanted to know who in the hell whatever your name is, and why you’d hired some guy to find me. Only thing I could figure to say was ya owed me and needed to pay it up as part of your sobriety shit.”
Aggie wrapped her arms around her middle and held herself. “So you didn’t want to see grown-up me?” Why did this hurt so much? Why would Mom want to see her grown-up daughter when the only thing that accomplished was reminding her how much of her life had been screwed up because of her?
The bartender brought over a pot of coffee and two cups. “This might help get her brain clear. She’s not half bad when she’s sober.”
Aggie nodded in thanks but couldn’t muster a polite smile to go with the gesture.
Mom tasted the coffee. She glanced at Aggie. Rolled her eyes. “Listen, Barb. It’s nothing personal.”
“It’s Agnes. You named me Agnes. And it’s very fucking personal to me.” Why can’t she remember my name?
“Well, it shouldn’t be. I ain’t nobody but the broken-down body who carried you.” Another hoot. This one louder than the last and more ominous. If that was even possible.
They sat in silence until Aggie poured the last of the coffee from the pot. Mom’s eyes fixated on the porcelain cup in her hands. She wasn’t sure if Mom realized she still sat across from her.
“Who’s my father?” She hadn’t planned on asking that particular question. Meemaw’s experience taught her the answer could be painful.
Mom’s eyes momentarily cleared. “Some asshole who thought wearing a condom was torture.”
“Torture?”
“That’s what he said. So I said fine. One time, we’d do it without a condom.”
Aggie ground her teeth. The number of torture items a woman wears to impress a man: four. Spanx, stilettos, underwire bras, and thongs. The number of torture items a man wears to impress a woman: one. A condom. A fucking condom. Meant to tell the lady he cared enough not to pass on a disease or a baby. And they fucking couldn’t be bothered with doing even that much to impress a woman with how copiously they cared. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Except Max hadn’t complained. He wore a hot-pink one for her. She wished he were here.
Aggie inhaled a calming breath and unlocked her jaw. “Do you remember his name?” Silly question. Mom didn’t remember his name. She didn’t remember her own daughter’s name.
Mom pulled a cigarette out of her purse and lit it. “Can’t remember something I never knew.” She stuck it in her mouth and inhaled.
Aggie sighed. “Are you sure?”
Mom exhaled a ring of smoke toward her. “Your daddy was some John who paid me twenty bucks to pull down my panties and bend over. Gave me an extra five for the no-condom thing. Offered me twenty more to spend the night with him in some fancy hotel. Told him I wasn’t Julia Roberts and he wasn’t Richard Gere.” She laughed at her joke.
Aggie didn’t laugh. “I see.” I’m the product of a hooker’s work. My mom’s a hooker.
“Don’t be using that hoity tone with me.” Her cigarette dangled from her lip as she spoke. “I’ll have you know your daddy drove a Mase…Mase-ratty and wore cufflinks. I got you a daddy with bucks. Lot more than my mom did for me. She did it for fucking free. I at least got twenty-five and a pair of gold cufflinks.”
Aggie winced at her grammar. Meemaw said Mom had made straight As all the way through school then dropped out one week before graduation. That’s when she dummied down her appearance and started talking like someone who’d had no schooling.
Meemaw thought she’d done it all to get back at her for not allowing her to go on the unofficial senior trip. “Do you still have the cufflinks?” Maybe there were fingerprints on them that would lead her to her father. Not that she wanted to meet him. Or maybe they’d been reported stolen, and she could find out the name of her father that way.
Darlene sobered. “Sold ’em for crack. You got any money for your ol’ momma? I asked that bitch who raised you, and she said she’d paid my bail, and there’d be no more coming.”
A new wave of tension snapped Aggie’s shoulders back. How long ago had that
happened? Surely, not recently. If it had been recently, Meemaw would have told her. Wouldn’t she have? “No, Momma, I do not.”
Mom burst into tears. “If I don’t go back with some money, my dealer will cut me off.”
Aggie resisted the urge to touch her. Afraid if she did, Mom would recoil, and she didn’t know if she could handle the rejection. “Maybe that’s a good thing.”
If Mom heard her, it didn’t register in her expression. “He’s nice-looking. We’d have pretty babies. Except I can’t have any. Got fixed right after my first child. Never met her. Gave her up. Bitch gave me stretch marks.”
Aggie turned her head and wiped at an escaped tear. She’d lived with Mom for four years. How could she forget that? When the tears were dried, she refocused on Mom. “Come home with me. You can start over.”
Mom’s smeared lips twisted into a snarl. “Why would I leave a fine man like the one I’ve got to live with you and that old hag I got stuck with growing up?”
Aggie jumped to her feet and doubled her fists. “Meemaw is warm and kind and generous. Don’t you dare say something bad about her.” The room grew quiet, the smell of a pending fight drawing the attention of the scavengers. Aggie didn’t care if they were all on Darlene’s side.
She would fight till her death before she let someone badmouth Meemaw. “She chose to be my mom when you chose not to. She worked three jobs to put food on the table, so I didn’t have to crawl through trash bins in search of our next meal. She held me at night when I had nightmares.”
Mom shook her finger at her. “Every child has nightmares. That one’s not on me.”
Her mouth fell open. Darlene didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. “My night terrors were about you coming back to get me, and I would have to leave with you.”
Darlene snarled. Without warning, she tossed a cup of lukewarm coffee at her. “You’re nothing but an ingrate.”
Aggie picked up a napkin and slowly wiped at the mess on her jacket. “And you’re nothing but…” She wanted to say whore but couldn’t. Two means didn’t make a nice. Darlene was her biological mother. A broken woman. “You’re a person in need of help. Let me help you. I can take you to a drug rehab. They’ll see to it you get the help you need. It’s not too late for you to find your own happiness.”
“Fuck you,” Mom said.
The smell of rotted dreams filled her nostrils. “Please come home with me.” Why had she thought meeting Mom would be like living out a scene in a Hallmark movie?
“Rita, I’m happy as piss.”
Being called Rita threw gasoline on her dreams, and they exploded into blue flames. Flames that licked at Aggie’s soul with the two-pronged tongue of hell’s blazes.
I shouldn’t have come.
She told herself to leave. To stop trying for something unobtainable. “Momma, may I have a hug?” A hug. That should be obtainable. That didn’t require Mom to remember her name. That didn’t require Mom to love her. That just required an ounce of decency.
Mom smiled, fumbled her way out of the booth, and stood. She held out her scrawny arms.
Stunned she agreed, Aggie stepped into them. Mom smelled like cigarettes and vomit. Aggie didn’t care. She was being hugged by Mom. “Thank you.” Tears burned the back of her eyes.
“Anything for my little girl.” Mom patted Aggie on the back with one hand and with the other lifted Aggie’s wallet out of her jacket pocket. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”
One of the tears dropped. And then another. What did you do when your own mom stole from you? Act like you didn’t know? Or confront?
She wanted to act like she didn’t notice but couldn’t. She held out her hand. The check for tonight’s charity was in there. “Give it back.” The hug had been a scam.
Mom’s face screwed up like a wad of used toilet paper. “Bitch.” She threw the wallet at her. When Aggie bent to pick it up, Mom spit, the drool landing on the back of her hand.
Aggie straightened and brushed away the tears. “I wanted to love you. I wanted you to love me.”
Mom sunk back into the booth. “Love is for losers. You chase that bitch, she’ll break you and then hide the glue so you can’t fix yourself.”
Aggie turned and fled outside where she waited for Bill. Her heart ached, but she didn’t shed any more tears. Sitting on a curb, she vowed to let no one break her heart and then steal her glue.
Vowed never to give her heart until the other had given theirs first. When Johanssons fell in love first, it led to failed love.
Failed love made one decide life wasn’t worth the effort to keep your daughter.
Two thirty came and went, but still no Bill. She closed her eyes. When she awoke, it was dark outside. She asked one man for the time. He didn’t respond but pulled out his phone and turned it so she could read the screen. Two a.m.
“Fuck.” Aggie paced and fought for breath. She’d missed the trivia night event. “Oh, hell. This is bad. This is really bad.” She should have insisted Bill wait on her. She knew better than to count on him to come back. He was unreliable. Which was how Max would now view her.
She spun in circles, trying to solve the issue. She came to a stop when she realized there was no solution. She’d have to explain to Max. Or…she could just send him a text. Only she didn’t have her phone. When she got back to town, she could leave him a note telling him what happened and say she quit to save him the trouble of firing her.
Yes. That’s what she’d do.
Only, that’s not what she’d do. She couldn’t run away. She had to face him. He deserved the satisfaction of firing her. She owed him that much.
What time did the next bus leave for Kansas City?
Chapter Forty-Two
Max pretended to be busy behind his desk when Aggie walked through the door Monday morning. He didn’t want to say something he’d regret. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have plenty he planned to say.
She’d screwed up. He had every right to be mad and to rip into her. Even if in the end they had won trivia night, that didn’t let her off the hook. Mr. Smith said Aggie’s no-show didn’t leave him with a favorable view of his company.
“You’re here early.” She sounded nervous.
He took his time looking her way. Hell. She looked like roadkill. Was that his fault?
She’d called him yesterday, asking if they could meet. He’d declined. He wanted her to sweat over facing him and the music of not showing up. He’d asked Ms. Hazel not to mention she’d come to his aid.
From the looks of her, she’d sweated plenty. He almost…almost…no. Not true. He didn’t feel sorry for her. Not even a little.
“Nice weekend?” He purposefully held all hints of anger from his voice. He’d promised Ms. Hazel he’d hear Aggie out. He strode to the window and stared without actually seeing anything.
Grandmothers were always the last to see fatal flaws in their grandchildren.
“I went to Springfield Saturday with a friend and didn’t get back until yesterday afternoon late. And then Meemaw was in a mood, and we fought about nothing.”
His gut soured. She’d actually spent the night in Springfield. “Were you with Bill?”
She came and stood beside him.
He held his breath and waited for her response.
“How did you know?”
The air whooshed from him. “Lucky guess.” Game over. She’d jeopardized an important contract for Max just so she could spend the weekend with a loser. The asshole from the bar. “What was in Springfield? A concert? A motorcycle rally?”
She cocked her head as if trying to decipher his mood. Like, she’d expected a full-on dressing-down by him but not calm questions. “Nothing special. A…night club.” She walked over to her desk. Her office phone rang. She answered it, turned her back to him, and mumbled words he couldn’t understand. When she
turned his way, she looked even worse than two minutes earlier. “I need to tell you something. Perhaps you should sit.”
He twisted back around and stared out the window and at the buildings. Buildings full of businesses. Full of business owners who hired employees to work for them. Did they have employees like Aggie? “I’m fine. You can say what you want to say while I’m standing here.” He waited for her apology. Surprised she hadn’t blurted it out the moment she arrived at work.
“Please sit.” Something in her voice compelled him to do so.
“What?”
She walked in front of her desk and faced him. “I know you’re mad because I didn’t make it to trivia night.”
“Mad isn’t the word I’d use to describe how I’m feeling.” Trivia night was the least of what ailed him. She’d spent the night with Bill. That wasn’t the action of a woman who’d fallen in love.
“Well, when I tell you what else I need to say, it will be the right word.”
“I can’t believe you fucking stood me up for the charity event. Of all the selfish, unreliable—”
She picked the stapler up off her desk. “Your bid didn’t get turned in.”
His gut clenched. Was this some type of sick game? How many times could she kick him in the balls before he cried uncle and showed his cards? “Ms. Hazel said she did it for you.”
Aggie walked behind her desk and sat. “She dropped it at the wrong bank. Not her fault. I gave her erroneous information. That’s who just called. They said they had the packet there and didn’t know what they were supposed to do with it?”
He gripped the arms of his chair to keep himself from lunging. “The wrong bank?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know how Meemaw and I got our wires crossed.” She opened a desk drawer.
He jumped to his feet causing his chair to roll away. “Don’t you dare blame this on Ms. Hazel. She’s not at fault. You’re at fault for being a fucking flake.” With his heart and with his business.
She slammed the drawer shut. “You’re right. I am. I’m sorry.”
