by M. Mabie
Oh, there was a challenge in her stare. Blue flames and beauty assailed me.
“What do you want?” she asked.
Your lips.
Your neck.
Our clothes on the floor.
My skin on yours.
Your breath on my lips.
Your trust.
Your genuine affection.
And to deserve it all.
“Another chance.”
Her chin lifted. My girl was braver than she knew, despite the crack in her voice when she claimed, “I don’t know how to do any of this. You told me how we got together isn’t how you believe it should be, and I don’t know any other way.”
“Let me show you,” I offered, and rounded the island.
“No,” she argued, putting her hand on my chest. “I have to learn for myself. Because after everything, what if we’re still not compatible? Then my heart breaks twice.”
Her delicate fingers moved over the metal between my skin and my shirt. Her ring on a chain around my neck.
Myra’s brows rose, and her mouth fell open.
“I don’t want to break your heart. I just want to be here for you, but I can’t do that if you push me away.” My arms tingled and crawled. I wanted to touch her so bad that need panged against my insides, and a cool sweat broke across the back of my neck. “If you can’t stay, fine. But please answer my calls, my texts. I worry about you. We can start over.”
For a moment, everything was still, and she studied my face.
“If we hadn’t met the way we did, if I was just some normal person, what would we do?”
“I’d take you on a date,” I answered before I could think too much. In many ways we were beyond that, but hadn’t I told her I didn’t want to skip steps, not so long ago in the bed we’d shared?
I wanted to get us back there. And beyond.
She was on to something. If this was going to work, we needed a better foundation. Something stronger on both sides. A reset.
Color started to bloom on her cheeks in the lovely way it sometimes did when I was lucky.
“Would you like that?”
Had the scales tipped?
Was the sun going to come back out?
Her hand slowly fell away from me, and her head tipped to the side as she glanced up through her long, fluffy lashes. “What kind of date?”
On the spot, I wasn’t sure. The smile on my face felt tight and foreign, but welcome. “A really good one. The best date you’ve ever been on.”
Glaring, she replied, “How would I know. It would be my only date.”
“Nah, just the first.”
Her posture straightened, and she said with some attitude, “Well, I’m busy for the next few days.”
Was she playing hard to get?
Hadn’t she claimed to not know what she was doing?
She was doing just fine. Flirting even.
“Busy with what?”
She turned and walked toward the sewing machine in the corner. “I’m helping Ashley tonight, and I'm taking the GED practice test tomorrow.” After making sure the latches were secure on the hard case her machine was in, she lifted it by the handle and faced me again. Poised.
My girl was proud and confident and how could I argue with that?
“Well, I’m free whenever. You let me know.” I leaned against the edge of the island, more relaxed than I’d been in weeks. I’d never want her to change for me, but it was incredible seeing the changes she was making for herself.
“I’ll text you,” she replied, over her shoulder as she strutted out the door.
12
Myra
I wished that powerful feeling I’d had at the cabin hadn’t left. It didn’t disappear all at once, but by the time I was sitting at a desk the next morning, I couldn’t feel any of it.
“Good morning. My name is Dale Paxton. You can call me Dale or Mr. Paxton, either is fine. Welcome to the GED practice test,” the gentleman at the front of the class announced at seven sharp. Then he walked around the small group of us and placed packets of papers on our desks.
There were six of us, including me. Surprisingly, I wasn’t the oldest. There was a man who looked to be about Ted’s age in front of me and a gray-haired woman to his left. Two teenage boys and a young, pregnant woman.
“Our practice tests are done a little differently here. You’re allowed as much time as you need since this is a much more condensed version of the official GED, and we grade them ourselves. I’ll have your scores ready on Monday. If you plan to take the prep courses that we hold here in the evenings, you’ll want to register as soon as possible. We offer a revolving subject schedule here, due to the different needs of our students. We begin the social studies module on Monday night and we’ll work through it all week, and then move on to language the following week and so on.” He took a deep breath, and then slipped his glasses off his nose and tucked them in the breast pocket of his shirt. His legs crossed, and he studied each of us.
“You’re allowed to retake the practice test as many times as you’d like, your forty dollars includes all four subjects. When you take the official test, it will cost thirty dollars per subject. You can either take them all at once or any combination you want on offered test days.”
It was clear that he’d recited his speech many times because he spoke so fast that I could barely keep up.
“On this practice test, you’ll find all four sections. Mathematics, social studies, language arts, and science. They are not the same questions that will be on the official GED, but they are a good representation of what to expect.” He looked at his watch and then directly at me. “When you’re ready, you may open your packets and begin. I’ll be up here if you have any questions. Good luck.”
My chair wasn’t level and the whole desk rocked as I shifted and tore the tab open on my test. It was only for practice, so that helped curb my nerves some, but my stomach ached in waves and my mouth was dry, all the same.
I hoped working at Hobby Lobby was worth it.
MY FOOT CAME OFF THE sewing machine pedal when my phone rang. I didn’t exactly feel like answering, but I’d told him I would. Plus, he’d already sent a text earlier that I hadn’t answered.
“Hello.”
“How was the test?” Abraham’s voice was optimistic. He had no clue how terribly I’d done. Honestly, I hadn’t expected to do so poorly myself, but there was no way I could have passed it.
It was thoughtful of him to call and ask though, so I answered as positively as I could. “Well, I was the first to finish.”
“That easy, huh?”
“No, not quite. I couldn’t answer all the questions. That made it go faster for me.” I pulled the thread from the bobbin and snipped it, holding the phone with my shoulder. I’d been doing my best not to feel too defeated about my shortcomings, but it was embarrassing.
Again, I reminded myself they wouldn’t offer prep courses if people didn’t need them, and I just happened to be one of those people.
I wasn’t going to quit or give up. It was just going to be more difficult than I’d thought.
He hmmmed and I could almost feel the vibration of his chest even though we were only on the phone.
“So what’s the plan? Study and retake it?”
“Prep courses. Studying. Probably a lot of reading, which I’m not looking forward to, but if everyone else has to do it, then I guess I’ll do it too.”
“That’s a good attitude. Thought any more about our date?”
Time for dates would be hard to come by with classes every weeknight. I’d be in school beginning Monday until probably the second coming of Christ—if there was one.
Telling him I was busy the day before was almost cool. It didn’t feel the same anymore.
“I don’t know when. I’ll have classes every night during the week.”
“What about tomorrow?”
I was nearly finished with the curtains for Ashley, and the blankets wouldn’t take
me long. I could do those when I got up the next day because it was already getting late.
Was I ready to date Abraham? My husband?
It had only been the day before when I was finally ready to talk to him again, and I still wasn’t sure what he expected from me.
Regardless, I missed him. Missed talking to him, learning from him. The way he looked at me. How I felt when he touched me. The thrill of seeing him smile.
“Tomorrow,” I agreed.
13
Abe
Who would have thought that the promise of one date could change so much? She sounded down but had the right attitude. Living outside Lancaster wasn’t always easier, but it was always better. The getting past the struggles made it worth it. The hardships made us wiser, and there was no telling how strong she’d get.
It was up to her, and she was paving a path to a future where she could earn anything she wanted. She wasn’t weak or stupid, but she’d been neglected and undereducated. I loved that she’d decided to take the GED test because she wanted a job, but I felt guilty accepting she may not have done it if she’d never left me.
I had been holding her back.
She’d be busy, so I’d take what I could get—as soon as I could get it. Because if it were up to me, we’d spend the day together, but that’s not how first dates worked, and she wanted the real thing. Deserved the real thing.
“I’ll pick you up at five.”
“I have a car now,” she said. “I can drive.”
I pressed the egg sandwich crumbs on the counter in front of me, collecting them on the pad of my thumb. “I know you can drive, I’m trying to be a gentleman for our first date. Follow the first date rules.”
Were there rules? There were. Albeit, mostly unspoken and probably cliché.
Pick her up on time.
Dress like you care what you look like, even if you don’t.
Make conversation, awkward counts. According to movies, awkward usually is better in the end anyway.
A good meal with a healthy side of manners.
Flirt when appropriate. Compliment when appropriate. Shut up when appropriate—which I could manage well.
There were others, but those were the ones I was particularly aiming for out-the-gate. They would be a good start. Maybe I was more traditional and old-fashioned that I’d thought. So much for thinking I was progressive.
“Oh, okay.” Her tone was soft, and I was glad she easily approved. “Where are we going?”
I hadn’t been on many first dates, none that were notable in the least, but there was one place I had in mind. I wanted to make it special for Myra. Reward her for all the hard work she was doing. Help her relax and have a little fun before tackling her first public school experience.
Maybe she’d let me kiss her at the end.
To be clear, that wasn’t a rule and she was in no way obligated to, but that didn’t make me want it any less.
“I’m not telling you where we’re going. You’ll have to wait and see tomorrow.”
“I’m curious now.” Her short, easy laugh was like a song, a tune I hadn’t heard in a while. A favorite. “I’ll have to get on Google to make sure I’m following the first date rules too.”
She was so pure. How dare anyone mistreat her.
I’d never be ashamed of what I did, of getting her out of Lancaster. I’d made some mistakes, but that wasn’t one of them.
This woman belonged in the world. Well, at very least, she belonged in mine.
14
Myra
“Come in,” Ashley called through her storm door. It was the perfect weather for open windows, and I’m sure she was thankful the heat had begun to die off. I always felt the most for moms with late summer babies and how impossible it must be for them to find any comfort.
I came inside, carrying the things I’d made them.
“I can’t get up. Okay, I can, but I didn’t want to,” she explained.
“It’s fine. How do you feel?”
“Full.” She bit a piece of licorice. “But I can’t stop eating. Tired. Can’t sleep.” She pointed it at me with the end of her limp red candy rope. “Emotional. I cried when I used the last of the toilet paper this morning. Who does that? My hips hurt. My ribs hurt. And the only way to make any of it stop is to try to pass this giant baby through my vagina.” She shoved the rest of the sweet in her mouth and spoke around it. “Not particularly excited about that part either. What’s up with you?”
The shock of her saying the word vagina—as often and as loud as she did—was taming. I’d never been around anyone so comfortable with talking about their body. I doubted I’d ever speak like that, but I didn’t mind that she did. It was just her personality.
“These are the blankets,” I patted the stack. “And the curtains are hanging my car, so they wouldn’t wrinkle. I ironed them before I came over. I’ll put them up for you before I go.”
Her hand went over her chest. “Thank you. Mom said you don’t think you did well on your practice test.”
I nodded. There was nothing much to say.
“Don’t worry about that. I have a guy who works in my salon. He took the actual GED three times, and let me tell you, he’s a genius with color and just bought a second property as a rental. You’ll be fine.”
That was good to know. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. Making me blankets and curtains, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Everyone has things that they’re good at, and I love my hair.” She pointed at the chair across from her and I took a seat, wondering if maybe she could help me with something else. “Can I ask you for some advice?”
“From me?” she laughed. She brushed something off the chest of her black t-shirt and wiggled, trying to sit up more. “Are you sure?”
She was the only woman I knew in Fairview around my age and she was friends with Abraham. Plus, there was so much information on Google. And too many different lists of first date rules. There was no way to know which ones I was supposed to follow.
“I’m going on a date with Abraham tonight. I don’t know what to wear or what to do,” I confided. In some ways, it had been simpler when my clothes were only there to cover my body and not say who I was as a person.
Make a statement. Express your individuality. That’s what the internet said.
“Be yourself, and wear what makes you feel pretty.”
“Really? That’s it? Cosmopolitan Online said the rules to—”
“Oh, fuck that,” she interrupted. “Cosmo bullshit. Listen, if you were a serial dater, then sure. There are probably rules you need to follow or whatever. But this is Abe. You lived with him and he still wants to date you. Trust me, yourself is what he likes.”
I could trust her. After all, she was married. Had a home. A job. A good family. A baby on the way. These weren’t things to take lightly.
Ashley was crass and mouthy, but she also had what she wanted.
“And clothes?” The last time I’d felt pretty was my final morning at the cabin when Abraham saw me in the dress I’d made. I’d only just got my machine back, so I hadn’t had time to make another. “What do people usually wear on first dates?”
She leaned on the arm of the chair and kicked her feet up onto the coffee table in front of her. “Know where you’re going?”
“No.”
“A surprise? Check out, A-bra-ham. Flexing some game. Good for him.” She made two attempts to reach the bag of licorice, and then she gave up, adding, “He won’t care what you wear. You’re beautiful. You even make those pilgrim dresses look cute. Wear something you like.”
Be myself and wear something I like. Although it was good advice, it didn’t really clear anything up.
Because at the root of everything I was struggling with stuff like that. I didn’t know who I was—not really. And without the veil of what I’d been taught to think of certain things, I wasn’t sure what I liked or what my true opinions were.
Ashley’s
face twisted, one of her eyebrows quirked, and she stared off into the center of the room.
“Myra, can I ask you something?”
Certainly she didn’t want advice, but maybe she needed something else.
“Sure,” I answered, willing to help.
“Do you want to be with Abe?”
Not at all what I was expecting.
I’d thought I’d wanted to be with Abraham for the rest of my life, but I was learning my thoughts weren’t always trustworthy. Yet when I was with him, there’d always been something undefinable. From the very start, I’d felt a pull to him. At first, I was confident it was God, and then when his father and the legacy board approved, there was no doubt.
He was brave and strong. Kind and friendly to me. So handsome that I craved his attention and touch in ways I never had before.
Wasn’t he still all those things?
I was changing, but had he?
“When I was a little girl, I had this idea of what my husband, my band holder, would be like. What I’d prayed for was someone who was Godly and just. Someone who would provide and make a good father. Someone respectable. Smart. A man who was joyful and not too serious. Now—” I paused, looking for the right words, and sat up straighter. “Now, I’m not as sure what I want, but Abraham is a good man and I like spending time with him. He makes me smile and encourages me to think for myself.”
Her head bobbed, and she thoughtfully listened. I liked talking to her, and, for whatever reason, it was easy. She’d make a great friend.
“Okay, but...” She drew out the word but until it was a thirty-five-letter word.
I waited for her to go on, staring at her dead in the eyes with my head tipped forward. “But...?”
“Do you think he’s hot? Like fine? Like do you want to jump him?”
My lips pinched shut, and my cheeks warmed. This was what the internet called hot tea.
Her eyes lit up and a smile split her face when I spilled it. “Yes, yes, and yes.”
Then she screamed and giggled, and I did too. Of course, I covered my face and mouth when I did, but it was fun just the same.
