Muddy Bottom

by Ashley Farley

  For the first time in a long time, Hannah cries herself to sleep.

  Chloe and Dana return late morning on Friday, wearing shorts and T-shirts with bikini straps tied behind necks and smug grins on faces. Hannah glances around. Only two other customers are in the bakery, eating a late breakfast at a table by the window. Today is Jason’s day off, and Sadie and Birdie are in the back.

  “Get your cameras ready, girls,” Hannah says, and lifts her white bakery polo up to reveal her swollen belly.

  Chloe’s and Dana’s mouths fall open.

  “That’s right. I have nothing to hide. I’m pregnant. The baby is due in early August.”

  Chloe covers her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s just gross, Hannah. Please lower your shirt. As if we care whether or not you’re pregnant.”

  Hannah pulls her shirt down. “You cared enough yesterday to post a pic of me in your story.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She fishes her wallet out of her canvas beach bag. “Please, I need coffee. You missed a great party last night on the beach. Poor you. I guess you’ve been missing a lot of those lately. Not much fun to go to a party when you can’t drink.”

  “I’m pregnant, Chloe, not contagious with some deadly virus. I could go out if I wanted. But I have plenty to keep me busy.”

  Chloe rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right?”

  Chloe and Dana pay for their coffees and take them over to the banquette. Once again, Hannah can feel them watching her. And once again, she finds a pic of her baby bump on Chloe’s Instagram story that night. And hence, begins a pattern that takes place over the next ten days.

  Terrified Ryan will show up and stake his claim on his unborn child, Hannah keeps one eye on the bakery’s front door at all times. She’s certain that, by now, one of their mutual friends has seen Chloe’s pics and put two and two together. Maybe Ryan doesn’t care. Maybe he doesn’t want to be a part of his child’s life. Maybe he’s not interested in wrecking his future as a lawyer. The anxiety of not knowing makes her a nervous wreck. She has trouble sleeping at night, and she snaps at everyone around her. Even her photography suffers. She can hardly wait to move to California. The idea of being twenty-five hundred miles away from Ryan and Chloe gets her through the agonizing days. Then, out of the blue, her prayers are answered when Chloe leaves to spend the Fourth of July week with her family on Sullivan’s Island.

  Every day Birdie remains sober is a blessing. One minute, she’s on top of the world. And the next minute she feels like she’s teetering on the edge of a cliff.

  “Am I doing something wrong?” she asks Max. “I feel like it’s getting harder and harder to stay away from the booze.”

  Max embraces her. “You’re just stressed out about Hannah. But you’re doing great. Hang in there.”

  Birdie pulls away from her friend. “I’m not making any progress with Hannah. And it’s not just me. She’s testy with everyone these days, including Sadie and Jason.”

  And more than once, Birdie hears Hannah speak to their customers in an irritable tone of voice. After one such incident, when the disgruntled customer stomps off in a huff, Birdie confronts her about it. “You’re nearing the end of your pregnancy, Hannah. You’re uncomfortable and understandably grumpy. But you can’t take it out on the customers.”

  Hannah’s shoulders slump. “I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll try harder.”

  “Can I do anything for you? Or get you anything?”

  Hannah looks up, the hint of a smile on her lips. “I’m craving donuts. Will you make one for me?”

  Birdie shakes her head, as though she misheard her daughter. “A donut?”

  “Yes, a donut. There’s this awesome donut shop in Richmond. We used to go there all the time after class.”

  “I’m sorry to say I know nothing about making donuts. But we have a fryer. If you want to make this your project, I’m happy to help.”

  Leaning back against the counter, arms folded over chest, Hannah stares up at the ceiling. “Hm. Maybe I will. How hard can it be?”

  Birdie envisions them working together to develop a whole new line of donut products, but the next afternoon, she enters the kitchen to find Sadie and Hannah with their heads pressed together over a hissing fryer.

  “What’re y’all making?”

  “Blueberry cake donuts,” Hannah says, her eyes on the sizzling dough.

  “Your daughter inherited your talent for baking.” A wide grin spreads across Sadie’s face as she rubs her stomach. “I got to sample the first batch, and I’m here to tell you, they are some kinda good. Wait until you try one.”

  Birdie watches her daughter remove three dozen donuts from the fryer and drizzle glaze over the top of each. When they’re cool enough to eat, she picks one up and takes a bite. Her blue eyes grow wide. “These are delicious,” she says in mid chew. “The customers will love them.”

  Hannah offers her a rare smile. “We made yeast donuts, too, in honor of the Fourth of July.” She gestures at a nearby tray of donuts decorated in red, white, and blue icing.

  Birdie studies the donuts. “Patriotic donuts. How adorable. These will be a hot seller. If this is all you have, you better make more.”

  Hannah nods. “I’m already on it. I have ideas for other flavors, too.”

  Birdie loads the blueberry donuts on a tray and places it alongside the patriotic donuts on the top shelf of the showcase. The donuts sell out within an hour. “You just got yourself a raise,” she says to her daughter. “Keep up the outstanding work.”

  Birdie gives her daughter free rein to experiment, and Hannah implements the daily donut special, offering seasonal flavors like peach cobbler, strawberry shortcake, and banana pudding. While making donuts goes a long way toward improving Hannah’s overall temperament, she’s still irritable at times. The following week, Birdie watches her daughter closely for clues. By the end of the week, she identifies two of the more popular girls from her high school class as the source of her daughter’s ill humor. Chloe and Dana come into the bakery every day dressed for the beach in bathing suits and coverups. Does Hannah regret missing out on the fun? Is she finally realizing what she’ll be sacrificing by having this baby at such a young age?

  As she watches and listens from a far, Birdie overhears the girls talking about Instagram. Pulling out her phone, she accesses the Island Bakery Instagram account. She took the account over from Amber. The account has thousands of followers, and Amber followed many of them back. One of them being Chloe. She clicks on Chloe’s profile and sees at least a dozen photographs of a young pregnant woman. Although her head is cut off in all the images, Birdie recognizes her daughter. The top left image offers a side view of Hannah’s belly, which takes up most of the real estate in the picture. The text beneath the photograph reads: Place your bets now. The link provided takes Birdie to an online polling website where hundreds of people have speculated about who the mother is and the length, weight, sex, and due date of the baby.

  Why would Chloe do such a thing? The girls were never friends in high school, but this is downright cruel.

  Birdie’s blood boil, and the phone shakes in Birdie’s hand. She needs a drink. She grabs her purse and heads out the back door. But when she reaches her car, a voice inside her head warns, “Don’t do it.”

  She marches down the alley and across the small park to the Island Hotel, where she finds Max alone at the front desk. “You won’t believe this.” She shoves her phone in Max’s face.

  Max takes the phone from her. “What on earth? Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yep. My daughter’s pregnant stomach.” Birdie jabs her finger at the phone. “This is why Hannah’s been so down lately.” Her face flushes. “I’m so angry I could scream.”

  “Don’t. Please. I have a house full of guests.” Max studies the photos more closely. “Hannah’s head is cut off in every picture. There’s no way anyone can identify her.”

  “But Hannah knows it’s her. Chloe is cy
ber bullying her. And the stress is taking its toll. It’s not good for the baby.”

  Max looks up from the phone. “Or for you. Do you need to go to a meeting?”

  She snatches back the phone and stares at Chloe’s smug mug. “Yes, but not until I teach this little girl a proper lesson.”

  Max eyes her suspiciously. “And how do you plan to do that?”

  “With your help. You know practically everyone in both Carolinas and Georgia. Find me some dirt on Chloe Taylor.”

  Max pauses as she thinks about it. “Actually, I do know a family whose child went to Chapel Hill with Chloe.” Drawing a stool up to her computer, her fingers fly across the keyboard as she accesses her client data base.

  Birdie goes around behind the counter and stares over Max’s shoulder at the computer screen.

  “This family is from Greenville. The Parkers. Their daughter, Abigail, is a sweet girl.” Max reaches for her phone. “She left her favorite bikini here during their stay. I may have her number from when she texted me about it.” She scrolls through her contacts. “Yep. Here it is. I’ll be right back.”

  Max clicks on the number, jumps off the stool, and takes her call to the adjacent lounge. Birdie stands in the doorway watching Max, with phone pressed to ear, pace back and forth in front of the bar. Although she can’t hear the conversation, Max’s brows are pinched together in concern. Whatever Abigail is telling Max is serious business.

  Max ends the call and returns to the lobby.

  “Well?” Birdie says.

  “Let’s go for a walk. I can’t afford for any of my guests to overhear me gossiping.” Max puts her Be Right Back sign on the desk, and taking Birdie by the hand, leads her outside.

  Instead of going left past the park to the bakery, Max heads right toward the residential section of old Victorian-style cottages.

  “You’re killing me, Max. Tell me what you found out about Chloe.”

  Max stops walking and turns to face Birdie. “Her sophomore year in college, Chloe got messed up at a fraternity party one night. Abigail thinks she might have been on drugs. She got sick in the girl’s bathroom and threw up all over her clothes. She came out of the bathroom naked, and a bunch of kids videotaped her with their phones. Needless to say, the story went viral.”

  “How dare Chloe bully Hannah after what happened to her.” Birdie turns away from Max and race-walks back toward the bakery.

  Max jobs to catch up with her. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure yet. I’ll figure out something.”

  “I promised Abigail I wouldn’t reveal my source.”

  Continuing on at a fast pace, Birdie glances sideways at her. “No worries. I promise I won’t tell anyone where I heard this.”

  The old friends part in front of the hotel. Birdie goes around to the bakery’s back door and hurries up the stairs to her computer. After searching the internet for an hour, she finds the video deep within the recesses of YouTube. Chloe, naked as a jaybird, stumbling around stoned out of her mind.

  Birdie bookmarks the video on her phone, and after a night spent tossing and turning in anger, she’s waiting for them when Chloe and Dana enter the bakery the following morning.

  Hannah has already taken their order when Birdie emerges from the kitchen. “Morning, girls.”

  Chloe flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Morning, Mrs. . . . um . . . What am I supposed to call you now that your husband has left you?”

  Any hesitancy Birdie has about her plan vanishes. “I don’t want you to call me anything, Chloe. I want you to stop cyber bullying my daughter.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

  “Yes, you do. And if you don’t stop immediately, I’ll be forced to share this little video I found of you. Coincidentally, did you know the bakery has over ten thousand followers? One of them is your mama.” Birdie clicks play on the video and holds the screen out to Chloe.

  The color drains from her face and sparks of anger flash in her blue eyes. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Interesting thing about social media—pictures and posts never really go away. They can come back to haunt you at the most inconvenient times.”

  Dana steps away from Chloe, distancing herself from her best friend as though she didn’t previously know about the video. Which is not surprising, since she went to a different college from Chloe. And it’s not something someone would brag about.

  “Let me see that.” Hannah snatches the phone from Birdie. She gawks at the video. “Jeez, Chloe, what mind-altering drug were you on that night? And what happened to your clothes?”

  Birdie answers for Chloe. “She puked all over them in the girl’s bathroom.”

  Through gritted teeth, Chloe says, “Put. The phone. Away. I will stop posting photographs of Hannah. I was getting bored with it, anyway.”

  “You’ll also take down the poll and trash the results.”

  “Fine. Let’s get outta here.” Leaving their coffees on the counter, Chloe grabs Dana by the elbow and drags her toward the door.

  “And girls,” Birdie calls after them. “Find yourselves another coffee shop. You’re no longer welcome here.”

  After watching them go, Hannah turns to Birdie, offering her a high five. “Mom! That was so badass. I can’t believe you just did that.” Hannah throws her arms around Birdie’s neck, and for several wonderful seconds, Birdie feels the warmth of her daughter’s body against hers. This human connection with her own flesh and blood is the key to her happiness. Forget the booze. This is her new drug. And she must get more of it.

  Ten

  The Chloe situation earns Birdie brownie points with her daughter, and as the morning progresses, she brainstorms ways to take advantage of being in her daughter’s good graces. The idea comes to her as she’s serving a young mother and her little girl, who smell of sunscreen and wear bathing suits under cover-ups. The beach was Hannah’s and Birdie’s favorite place when Hannah was a young child.

  “What say you and I spend the afternoon at the beach?” she suggests to Hannah during a lull in business. “We can go now and let Sadie and Jason close up.”

  Hannah’s face lights up, and then she drops her smile. “I don’t know, Mom. I’m so big. And I don’t have a bathing suit.”

  “Then wear shorts. We’ll dig our toes in the sand, maybe go for a walk. And we can pick up sandwiches from the Sandwich Shack for a picnic. We’ve been working so hard. It’ll do us good to get some fresh air.”

  Hannah shrugs. “Sure. Why not? I haven’t been to the beach all summer.”

  Birdie tries to remember the last time she went to the beach. It’s been years. Maybe even a decade. Which is pathetic considering she lives just a few miles away.

  Not much conversation passes between mother and daughter during the afternoon, but instead of being awkward, the silence, for once, is comfortable. After eating turkey and ham club sandwiches for lunch, they read for a while—Birdie her current romance novel and Hannah a pregnancy book— before taking a long walk down the beach.

  They stay on the beach until late afternoon and return home tired and sunburned despite being diligent about applying sunscreen. The air conditioner feels cool against their warm skin, and they plop down on either end of the sofa in the living room.

  “Thanks for suggesting the beach, Mom. I really needed that.”

  Birdie smiles at her daughter. “Does this mean we’re friends again?”

  “Mom . . . I . . .” Hannah averts her eyes, staring out the window. “One afternoon at the beach doesn’t change anything.”

  Sitting up, Birdie swings her legs over the side of the sofa. “What’s it gonna take, Hannah? I’m desperate to mend our relationship.”

  “How desperate? Are you ready to accept the fact that I’m keeping the baby?”

  Birdie pauses before answering. “I will always be here for you when you need me. But I don’t approve of you keeping the baby. I think you’re ruining your life.”
<
br />   Hannah rolls her ample body off the sofa to her feet. “Is that what you did when you had me? Ruin your life? You quit your nursing job because of me. Am I the reason you became a drunk? Your life has been so miserable because of me.”

  Birdie jumps up. “Hannah, no! That’s not true at all.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Hannah screams. “If it wasn’t me, then what was it? Was it Dad? Was he the reason you started drinking?”

  Birdie opens her mouth to speak and closes it again. The answer isn’t a simple one.

  “So, it was me.” Grabbing her bag off the dining table, Hannah tears down the stairs, slamming the door behind her on her way out.

  Birdie should go after her, but her body is paralyzed, her feet glued to the floor. She’s so tired of the drama. The constant worry. The relentless urge to drink. Phone in hand, she moves to the window. She’s scrolling down her favorites list for Max’s number when Max emerges from the hotel lobby. Pocketing her phone, she watches Max greet their friends, Kelly and Bonnie, on the boardwalk and disappear under the covered porch at Shaggy’s.

  Birdie feels a pang of envy that they didn’t invite her to join them. She needs a drink. She’s been sober for 156 days. She’s no longer an alcoholic. One vodka tonic won’t kill her. She glances at her watch. Ten minutes until the liquor store closes. She hurries out to the car and speeds through town, making it just in time to purchase a handle of vodka.

  Back at home, she forgoes the tonic—she doesn’t have any, anyway—and fills a lowball glass with ice and vodka. She hides the handle in the cabinet under the sink. She doesn’t want Hannah to see it when she comes home. She takes her drink to the window and sips vodka while observing the boats coming and going at the marina below.

  The vodka goes down way too smoothly, and a sense of calm overcomes her. She pours another.

  She replays her conversation with Hannah. She broke two of Max’s rules. She didn’t think before she asked Hannah if they were friends again. What kind of stupid question is that? They’ve never been friends. And Birdie judged Hannah when she accused her of ruining her life. Why did Birdie say that? Because, despite her many flaws, she’s not a liar.