The White Stone, a short story I published on The Quick and the Dead in 2022 has been lengthened into a novel, and is now live on Kickstarter. The campaign runs until October 31 at 6 pm EDT. If you enjoyed reading The White Stone and the companion stories published on this blog, I encourage you to check out the full novel. Use the the embedded link below to make a contribution to the campaign and select your reward- either a hardcover or softcover version of the book. Issa Brown has beautifully illustrated 14 characters from the novel which will be included in color in every print copy. My pie-in-sky stretch goal is to narrate an audiobook of this story along with two of my friends.
Thank you for reading my work. I hope you enjoy The White Stone.
You know when you get all fluttery in your stomach because you don’t know if you’re getting Christmas gifts or not, or you find out a secret that’s real juicy and you know you aren’t supposed to know it? That’s how I felt next day going up the road from our house to Andy McCaffree’s on the narrow gravel road that ran up the mountain. Mr. McCaffree was an old friend of my Papaw, and he was always real nice to me, especially since Papaw died. They both were lucky enough to still have jobs when mining got all fancy with technology. But old Andy wheezed something bad now, just like Papaw had before he died. His wife Doris used to take him out to the big roads where they built the hospital to get his heart checked, and get his oxygen refilled. Doris died over the winter though, and Momma and Daddy had us girls check up on Mr. McCaffree from time to time. I’d known it was my turn to go up to his house when I’d asked Kathy Jo to take me to see the Chew Witch. Mr. McCaffree was about as old as these old hills; I just knew that he’d know where to find her.
I crunched up the road, thinking about how best to ask him, swatting at bugs that tried to fly up into my face as I went. The downpour yesterday had left everything damp, even the air. I was sweating buckets by the time I got to the turn off. His road was all dirt, just like ours, but his house was a bit nicer. Probably because he didn’t have a bunch of kids making messes all the time. Mrs. McCaffree had kept the house so nice while she was alive. She even took down the curtains on Fridays, and washed and ironed them. I didn’t think Mr. McCaffree was doing all that, but he did his best. I liked visiting him. He reminded me of Papaw, and he always had a story.
The house was real simple. It only had about four or five rooms, but I’d only ever seen the living room and the tiny eat in kitchen and the bathroom. The bathroom had been an addition to the house back when Momma was a kid. The McCaffree’s didn’t have indoor plumbing until then. There was a big ol’ porch on the front of the house and one just as big on the back where the two ancient, weathered rocking chairs were rocking on their own as I approached. It was probably just the wind whipping through the hills, but I kinda like to think that maybe Mrs. McCaffree was sitting in one right now. I smiled at that as I knocked on the door. “Mr. McCaffree?!” I called. “It’s Peggy June!” I opened the door slowly and poked my head inside.
“Peggy June!” I heard him wheeze. He waved to me from the couch, where he was sitting with his glasses on the very end of his nose, looking like they might slip off at any second. He was doing one of them puzzle books he liked-crosswords or sudoku, that kind of stuff. He coughed, putting down his book and pencil beside him on the blue threadbare couch. He was trying to stand up, because that was good manners, but between the coughing and his bad knees, I could see he was struggling.
“Don’t get up, Mr. McCaffree. I just come to check up on you,” I said.
His coughing fit continued. I reached for the empty glass that was sitting on his end table, and went into the kitchen to the tiny fridge to get him some water. I filled up the glass with the store bought water and took it back to him. Once he finished coughing, he drank just about all of it in no time. I sat down across from him in the big armchair that matched the couch.
He got himself under control. “Thank you,” he said. “You girls are so kind to check up on me.”
He voice sounded measureably weaker than last time I had visited. “You eat yet today, Mr. McCaffree? I can make you something.”
“Oh, I had a bit of oatmeal this morning.,” he said.
It was 4 o’clock in the afternoon. “Let me fix you something,” I said, not waiting for his protests before going off to the kitchen again. Momma always told us that Mr. McCaffree would try to act like he didn’t need anything, so you just had to do it for him. I rummaged around in his fridge for a bit, until I found some bologna and mustard and a few pickles. The bread was sitting on the counter and didn’t look too fresh, but it wasn’t moldy. I made two sandwiches for him. One for now and one for later, in case he was still having trouble getting off the couch later. Plus, I figured he’d skipped lunch and we were half way to supper now, so he’d probably need two sandwiches to fill him up.
I watched him eat the bologna sandwiches meticulously. He didn’t like spills and stains, so he was careful not to let any mustard drip. He had a thicker growth of beard today. I wondered why he’d quit shaving. “You need Momma to get you to the doctor?” I asked.
“Oh,” he said absently, as if he’d forgotten he had an appointment. “Actually, yes. I do need a ride soon. Do you think she’d mind?”
I smiled at him cheerfully. He should know better. “Mr. McCaffree, Momma wouldn’t make me come up and see you if she didn’t have a concern for you. What day do you need to go?”
“Tomorrow,” he said.
Well, she wouldn’t be too happy about the short notice, but it fit into my plans nicely. “Okay, I’ll tell her. What time?”
He pointed to his table, which was stacked with dirty plates and papers and other random bits of life. “My appointment book is on the table. Can you check for me?”
I walked over to the table, searching among the debris. The book was black, and about as big as my school notebook. I flipped to tomorrow’s date. “10:30?” I asked. Does that sound right?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s right,” he said. He had finished one sandwich and was working on the second one. “Tell your mother I said thank you, in advance.”
“I will,” I said. I was thinking through all the logistics of how Kathy Jo and I would get to the Chew Witch while Momma was gone with the car. With Momma gone to town with Mr. McCaffree Daddy would be in charge, but he would want Kathy Jo to run the register like she always did. Daddy didn’t keep tabs on us like Momma did, so it’d be easier to hoodwink him.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said, making my way back over to the arm chair.
Mr. McCaffree put the plate that had held his sandwiches on the end table. “Of course,” he said, patting his lips with the paper napkin I’d included on the plate.
“You know that old lady that everybody calls the Chew Witch?” I asked.
He frowned at me, and I didn’t think it was one of them frowns for when you were simply thinking. “The Chew Witch? Is that what you call Clara Lou Mabry?”
Clara Lou Mabry. I had her name, now I just needed to know where to find her. “Yeah, I think that’s her. Always chewing tobacco. Looks real mean. Drives an old black truck that might fall apart at any second?”
“That’s her alright,” Mr. McCaffree said. “What do you want to know about her?” He had a twinkle in his eye now. Like he knew some secret or something.
“Well, she comes into the grocery, just like everybody. And my cousin told me that she had invited us to come visit her sometime, but we don’t know where she lives.”
“You didn’t ask her?” he said, his smile widening. I was about to say I hadn’t been invited direcly, she’d talked to Kathy Jo, but he interrupted me before I even got started. “Why don’t you just ask next time you see her.”
“Don’t know when that will be,” I said.
“Well,” Mr McCaffree sighed, but that caused him to start coughing again, and I had to wait for him to quit hacking, and guzzle down the rest of the water I’d brought him. “Ah,” he said, after he had composed himself. “If I didn’t know any better, Peggy June, I’d think you were snooping on poor old Mrs. Mabry.”
“No sir, I ain’t snooping on her!” I said. It might have been a little too forceful, but I was getting the feeling he was onto me and I didn’t like it. Not that I thought he’d tell anybody. Only person he was likely to tell was Momma, and by then it’d be too late to stop me.
“Okay,” he said, with a smile, like he knew the lie for what it was. “Okay, Peggy June. I believe you.” He didn’t. I thought I was a pretty good bluffer, but Mr. McCaffree was a tough old mountain man and nothing got past him. “Tell me, though, why do you think she wanted you to come see her?”
“I don’t know. She’s not very nice to me at the store. She’s not very nice to anyone, is she?”
“No, not anymore, she’s not,” he said. “But would you believe that she comes to check on me too?”
I almost yelped in surprise, but managed to keep it to myself. “She does? Then she lives around here?”
“Oh, yes,” Mr. McCaffree said. “In fact, you take the road from here further up into the mountain, and the next house you find is hers.”
Hallelujah! I thought, though I didn’t really use that word too much. I’d just heard it a few times when Momma made us go to church- which we didn’t do but two or three times a year. I figured that’s what the pastor would shout now, having been given such a great gift as this bit of information.
“Oh!” I said sweetly. “Then it won’t be too bad to get to her place,” I said. I might not need Kathy Jo at all. I could fake sick and get out of going to the store to work. I could walk there from our house, surely.
“It’s a little far on foot,” he said. He smiled. “But it’s a nice walk. I think you’d enjoy the hike.”
I took Mr. McCaffree’s plate to the kitchen, and gathered up all the other dishes on the table too. “I’ll have Jenny Kate and Mary Sue come wash these up for you,” I said. I was the oldest, so I could boss them like that, and Momma would back me up, because she’d know that Mr. McCaffree needed the help.
“You’re too kind to me,” he said. He was trying to stand up again, and when I told him he didn’t have to, he said he had to use the toilet. So I helped him off the couch and to the bathroom, and waited to make sure he didn’t fall, and then helped him back to his spot on the couch.
“I’ll make sure Momma comes in the morning,” I said, as I was going out the door, the information he’d given me tucked away like a precious piece of treasure. He waved goodbye to me and I left him there to do his puzzles. I nearly skipped back home, thinking about tomorrow and meeting Clara Lou Mabry face to face.
The next day it rained buckets and we girls were even more bored to tears than usual since we were stuck inside. I swept the canned goods aisle maybe 15 times in 30 mins just to give me something to do. Momma put Mary Sue to work scrubbing the walls of the bathroom. Me and Jenny Kate laughed at that until Momma said she was gonna put us to work on the sink and toilet once Mary Sue was done. She got done faster than lightning too. Or so it seemed. Took me longer to scrub that toilet than it took to walk up the holler to home at the end of the day. Not because it was so dirty, but because I was in no hurry to get it done.
Uncle Alvey came round in the afternoon, when the downpour had fizzled out into a drizzle. “Come on, girls,” he said, hiccoughing before letting out a mighty belch. Mary Sue and I laughed, but Jenny Kate just rolled her eyes. “I got my check from Uncle Sam,” he said. “Let me take you over and buy you an ice cream from Pete.” There was a soft serve machine at the gas station across the street. Uncle Alvey always liked to treat us when his government check came in. I didn’t really understand back then why the government paid him when he worked in our store, but I didn’t ask questions. I knew better.
“Daddy, you spoil them,” Kathy Jo called out from the register, where she was running the belt so she could clean it.
“Spoil you too, if you like, baby,” he said to his daughter.
Kathy Jo shook her head. “I gotta work, Daddy,” she said.
“Oh!” he scoffed at her playfully, as he moved towards the front of the store. “Aunt Mary Anna will watch over the place. We won’t be too long.”
“Plus, nobody is coming shopping in this mess,” Jenny Kate said. “There ain’t been nobody in here all day!”
Kathy Jo turned off the belt with a smile, and we all ran across to the gas station. Pete served us up quick- nobody was in the gas station either, considering the weather. We hung around inside the station eating our ice cream, me and Kathy Jo standing next to one another in comfortable silence at the window, while Uncle Alvey chatted with Pete about some grown up stuff I didn’t understand nor care to. When I was sure my sisters weren’t listening I elbowed Kathy Jo in the side.
“Ow! What’d’ya do that for?” my cousin said, rubbing her ribs with a deepening frown.
The rain was coming down harder now, and I knew that nobody would want to go back across the street until we’d finished our ice cream and the rain let up a little again. I had my cousin trapped right where I wanted her- as long as Mary Sue and Jenny Kate didn’t interfere. “Take me to see the Chew Witch.”
“What?” Kathy Jo hissed at me. I knew she knew how to drive her daddy’s old beat up Ford, even if she wasn’t supposed to. And honestly, nobody would care if she did. It’s not like her daddy ever followed any rules, and her momma was always too busy making jams, jellies, pies and whatever else she could sell to keep the family afloat. If the car was gone, she’d probably just assume that Alvey took it to go drinking with his buddies again.
“You scared?” I asked, my grin growing wider as she furiously shook her head.
“Why would I be scared of an old lady?” Kathy Jo said. But I could see in her eyes, she was scared. Everybody was at least a little scared of the Chew Witch. She reminded me of that woman from that old German story, the one about the two kids getting lost in the woods. Except I couldn’t imagine that the Chew Witch lived in a house of candy that would lure children right into her cauldron. I almost shivered, but kept my stoicism in the presence of my older cousin. She couldn’t see that I had any cracks, or else I just knew she wouldn’t take me.
“Well, if you aren’t scared, then take me to see her. She said I’d never see anything interesting unless I followed her home.”
Kathy Jo was thinking mighty hard about it. She was mostly done with her ice cream cone, and I knew I wouldn’t really have a chance to talk to her about it again once we were back in the grocery. “Why do you want to go?” She finally asked. She crunched into the bottom of the cone, chewing like a horse while she waited for me answer.
“Didn’t she invite me?” I asked. Honestly, that was the best answer I had for Kathy Jo. Why did I want to go see the Chew Witch? It wasn’t because I thought she’d be a good cook. And it wasn’t because I thought she lived in a nice house or would be very nice to me once I was there. Regardless, there was something compelling about her. That’s why I always watched her when she came shopping. It was like she had a secret about life in the mountains, and I had to know what it was.
“I don’t know, Peggy June,” Kathy Jo said. She wiped her hands on her jeans.
“Pleeeeease,” I begged. “Just tell your momma you’re going to see Annie Mae. Annie Mae was a friend of hers that lived a little further out towards the state highway, near the school. Her momma was a teacher.
“Okay, but I don’t know where she lives,” Kathy Jo said as she crossed her arms. She looked like she’d won some sort of argument, even though we hadn’t really be fighting.
The chew witch lived up in the hills, on one of them dirt roads that never had any gravel on it in the first place, because nobody had the money to spread it or care enough to. Her real name was Clara Lou or Lou Claire or something like that but everybody called her the chew witch because my cousin Kathy Jo once called her that when she was five and didn’t know better, and it stuck better than gum up under the railing at the grocery. Our grocery, that is, where I spent many a summer afternoon bored to near death, picking paint and gum off the railing outside. Or trying to anyway. Some of that stuff was stuck tighter than the nickname that Kathy Jo gave poor old Lou Claire….or you know, maybe it actually was Clara Lou. It was definitely a double first name just like almost everybody I knew who comes from the holler. In my family there was Mary Sue and Jenny Kate and me, Peggy June. Our Momma and Daddy ran the only grocery for about 15 miles round, at the base of one of them smaller hills that’s not quite one of the mountains of Appalachia, but pretty darn close. We sat outside that grocery store at the railing for half our lives it seemed like, waiting for anything exciting to happen. Nothing ever did.
Unless the chew witch came in. That’s the only place I ever saw her. She never came to church or went to get an ice cream cone or a soda across the street at Pete’s, and who knows how she put gas in the rickety old black pick up. I never saw her at the gas station up by the state highway. That truck was missing a bumper and three hubcaps, and looked like it might just shake all to pieces, it’s pistons and hoses flying out from underneath it all over the road if she hit a bump too hard. It was mighty sight to see, the old chew witch working that clutch as she came down the hill in to the grocery store parking lot, truck belching more than my uncle Alvey, who was always sneaking away when Momma wasn’t looking to have another beer in the cooler. She’d slide that big old pick up-and when I say, old, I mean that truck was probably older than my daddy-nearly right up to where our toes were hanging over the railing, and she would climb down and just give us the dirtiest look, like we were in her way. Kathy Jo called her the chew witch because she was always chewing when she came in, and she looked mean as a snake. Kathy Jo was old enough to run the register when me and my sisters were still too young to do anything but sweep up and stay out of Momma’s hair, which is why we spent so much time outside at the railing, just watching for something to happen. If the chew witch showed up though, we would quickly find something very interesting inside, so we could watch her as she shopped.
She never bought anything that looked like she could make a meal from- just odd ends and bits and part that maybe sorta might go together if she was hungry. Looked like she was hungry all the time, honestly; she was such as skinny old crone. Mommas said it’s because she chewed too much tobacco and didn’t eat enough food and I believed her. She always left a big steamy pile of nasty tobacco spit in her parking space before she climbed back into her truck. I didn’t know hardly any ladies that chewed tobacco, so it made send to me that Kathy Jo would have noticed that at age five, and fixated enough on it to make it part of her no so pleasant nickname. And as for the witch part- well, let’s just say nobody ever liked a weird old lady who lived alone.
I was maybe 12 or 13 years old when she came in the store on blazing hot day in July. She bought two cans of beans and a bag of flour. It was one of the small bags too, not the big five pound one like most people bought. I had been watching her from behind the rack of potato chips when Momma spooked me by whispering in my ear to mind my own business. I knocked the rack over when I jumped, and then I had to clean up that mess, Momma fussing that I might have crunched up all the chips. Jenny Kate and Mary Sue laughed, but Kathy Jo just gave me a mean look, like I was doing something wrong. When the chew witch left the store, I went up the register to fuss at Kathy Jo to mind her own business, but before I could say anything about it, Kathy Jo began lecturing me, like she was in charge or something!
“There’s nothing special about her, Peggy June. She’s just an old lady who lives up the holler. Why do you spy on her?”
“‘Cause she’s a weird old lady that live up the holler!” I said, feeling my face flush. I didn’t like to be corrected or embarrassed and I’d been both in the last five minutes.
“Well, maybe you ought to get to know her then, and she’ be less weird,” Kathy Jo grumped at me.
“Maybe you should get to know her,” I said, crossed my arms as I pouted. I didn’t have a better come back than that. Kathy Jo was a bit smarter than me, so even if I did, she’d have been clever enough to turn it back around on me in some way that would make me look worse than I already felt.
“Well, maybe I will! Besides, she told me just now to tell you and the girls to knock it off.” Kathy Jo always called the three of us sisters that girls, like she was an adult or something. She wasn’t. She was only 3 years older than me.
“Oh?” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “What’d she say?”
Kathy Jo leaned over the belt and looked at me pointedly. “She said, ‘tell your cousin that she can follow me around all she wants, but she won’t see anything really exciting unless she follows me home.’”
I didn’t know if it was a threat or an invitation or something else. But it did put an idea in my head.
The next time Eden and Annie saw Meg, she was with Park, and there was no trace of the crying, nearly cowering, shrinking woman that had accompanied the other man to the coffee shop on Meg’s previous visit. The coffee house employees watched the couple as they always did, and Meg and Park did what they always did. Leaned in. Made eyes at one another. Smiled constantly. Left with longing painfully painted into their expressions.
“How long would you give it?” Annie asked one day after Meg and Park had finally left after a lingering goodbye by the door that lasted a full ten minutes.
“Hard to say,” Eden said. “I mean, clearly, she was over that other man a long time ago. How, long has she been coming in here to see Park?”
“A year?” Annie said, her tone raised in a question.
Eden considered that. “So if a year ago, she as already thinking about an out, it might not be very long until they actually do get together.”
“If they aren’t together already,” Annie said.
The next week when Park came in, he came to the counter immediately, instead of waiting for Meg like he normally did. He was smiling, but he was also shaking. Eden was briefly concerned until Park pulled a small black box from his pocket and popped it open for her to see. Without preamble, he asked, “Do you think she’ll like it?”
Annie was peering over Eden’s shoulder to see. The ring was an emerald cut diamond. Eden guessed it was a half carot. A simple solitaire in a white gold band. She imagined it sliding down Meg’s finger, and the shining smile she would have to match its sparkle.
“Yes, Park. I think she will like it.”
As soon as the words left her, Meg came through the door. Today she was looking as sharp as always, her slim fit blazer dressing up the blue jeans she wore. Her nubuck heels clicked against the tile floor, a crisp sound filling the stillness of the shop. Park was frozen in place as she approached him, and he didn’t hide the ring box. Eden was as stiff as stone, and Annie didn’t move as inch, both transfixed on the couple standing before them.
Meg noticed that everyone was staring at her. She slowed, and then noticed what Park was holding out for Eden and Annie to see. “Park, is that…?”
He didn’t wait for her to finish. He dropped to one knee in front of her, nervously holding up the ring box and sputtering, “I know, we’re not even really together, Meg, but I love you so much and I just thought that maybe we could skip right to the end.”
The coffee house went silent. Meg’s face betrayed no expression for an uncomfortable eternity. Then she began to cry. It was an ugly cry, but one that Eden could tell was born of relief and joy. Not at all the like crying she had seen from her when she and her ex-husband had been in together, arguing and signing papers. She didn’t wipe her face. She didn’t say anything. She just wept in front of God and everyone, until Park couldn’t take it, and rose to wrap her in his arms.
Eden stole a quick glance to Annie, who was also transfixed on the strange proposal and Meg’s response. He proposed to her, but they weren’t even dating? Eden wasn’t sure what to think, but she could hear Meg and Park whispering to one another as they embraced, and it didn’t sound like her answer was no. When they pulled apart, they were both smiling. There three other patrons in the coffee house were all watching too, as Park took the ring from the box and slipped it on Meg’s finger. Somebody whistled, and then there was clapping. Meg was still crying, but now she was also beaming. Park was also crying, and smiling, and Eden also felt like her eyes were too wet.
Park and Meg turned to face her, and before they could say anything, she blurted, “Whatever you want is on me today.”
Park tried to protest, but she insisted. She rang in their drinks and watched the couple as Annie started to make them. The rest of their time together was the same as it always was, although Eden was sure there was a glow coming off them.
When they left, Annie bumped her with an elbow. “Told ya,” she said.
“You didn’t tell me anything! I told you!” Eden said, laughing.
Annie sighed. “Who are we going to gossip about now?”
Eden wondered at that too. She felt like she was a part of Meg and Park’s story now. No longer an outsider. It wasn’t quite as fun to imagine what was happening, because now she didn’t need to imagine.
“There’s always people to watch,” she said, just as a patron she had never seen before came in the door.
The next day, Annie was not working and Eden wished that was not the case around 11:30, when Meg walked into the coffeehouse with another guy. It was nearly shocking. Meg’s entire demeanor was different. She was not smiling. Her hair was not shining. She was not glowing from happiness. She looked tired, old and mean, even though she was wearing the same kind of sharp outfit complete with blazer and heels that always adorned her. Even her earrings seemed to have less life in them, as they dangled around her face.
“Hey Meg,” Eden said as she approached the counter. “You want the usual?”
Her eyes when wide at the question, and before she could answer, the man she was with looked at her curiously and asked, “The usual?” He was a whole head taller than Meg. He had graying curly hair and a very trim beard. He looked like an aging villain from a Saturday morning cartoon. Handsome, yet ominous, smiling but in a dangerous way. Meg seemed to shrink away from him when he spoke to her.
“I come here a lot for work,” she said, brushing away his inquiry. “The usual is fine,” she said to Eden.
Eden wished she could pass her a note. Meg was clearly in distress with this man. Why didn’t they have something like an “angel shot” on the menu, only known to those who used the women’s bathroom. She wondered if she mentioned it, if Meg would pick up on what she was asking. Instead, Eden just stared at her for too long, smiling, waiting for her to say anything, or suggest anything, or ask for anything else from her. When she didn’t, Eden very slowly turned her attention to the man. “And what can I get for you?” she asked.
“The usual, I guess,” he said. He was smiling, but Eden could see the way it made Meg shudder. She stepped out of the way so that man could pay and Eden’s eyes went to the man’s left hand, where she saw a plain gold wedding band. Her stomach dropped. This man must be Meg’s husband.
“Anytime else?” Eden asked, trying not to let her voice waver. She glanced at Meg, who just looked away from her, and crossed her arms. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.
“No,” the man said. And he sounded rude when he said it.
Eden made the drinks and passed them over to the couple. When they left the counter, she immediately pulled out her phone and texted Annie. She’s in here with another guy.
Meg? Annie’s reply was instant.
I think it’s her husband. I don’t like him. I don’t think she likes him. She furiously typed out all the details, sending about 12 messages in a row before she finally ran out of things to say about it. She chewed on her thumbnail as she tried to watch the two of them surreptitiously. They were arguing in hushed tones. The man had a folder full of papers that he was flipping through, pointing things out to her as she shook her head. Eventually, Meg got up from the table and headed towards the bathroom.
She’s going to the bathroom. I’m going to follow her and ask what is going on.
Annie sent a thumbs up emoji with the words Good choice. This guy sounds like a prick.
Eden waited about a minute before she started to move. “Wendy, I’m stepping away,” she called to the back room, where her coworker for this shift was organizing the delivery from that morning. Eden marched to the bathroom and nearly threw open the door in her haste to find out what was going on with Meg. When she entered the bathroom, she heard the crying, but it quickly stopped.
She was in one of the two stalls. Eden didn’t even pretend like she needed to use the unoccupied one. “Meg?” she asked softly.
The sniffling stopped, but she didn’t answer. After about a minute of uncomfortable silence, the stall door opened and Meg emerged, wiping away her tears with a wad of toilet paper. She looked at Eden with desperation, but the words that came out of her mouth were, “It’s okay, Eden. Don’t worry about me.”
Eden wasn’t going to let her back away though. “It’s not okay,” Eden said. “I can see that. I’ve never seen you look…like this,” she said, gesturing at Meg. “Do you need to call somebody? You want me to get the police to get him out of here?”
“No!” Meg said. She looked horrified, but only for a moment, before it melted into a smile. “No, Eden, I don’t need that. Although, I really appreciate you looking out for me.”
“Of course,” she said. She was confused, but she was just going to let the situation play out. “I wanna help, if I can. What can I do?”
“Well,” Meg said, moving to the sink and starting to wash her hands. “You can let me finish signing the divorce papers, so that he can get out of here.” She finished washing, and pulled a paper towel from the dispenser. She looked right at Eden, and she could see that beautiful, bright smile, the one she had when she was with Park, trying to spread across her face. “I love that you came in here to check on me.”
“I…I had to,” she said.
Meg nodded. “You’re a really sweet person,” Meg said. She threw the paper towel away and moved around Eden towards the door. “Hopefully this won’t take long.” She left the bathroom, leaving Eden with too many questions.
She pulled her phone out of her smock. It is her husband. They’re getting divorced.
“Hey Park,” Eden said as he slowly approached the counter. “Cappuccino today? Or you wanna do the flat white again?” She began to take a fresh cup off the stack next to the register, her pen ready to scribble down his order.
“Oh, cappuccino is fine,” he said. He always seemed timid when they spoke, not at all the same demeanor he had with Meg. He looked over his shoulder, watching the door.
“Looking for your wife?” Eden asked, as she rung in his order to the computer.
“My wife?” he asked, his cheeks coloring. “No, Meg’s not my wife.”
“Oh!” Eden said, acting surprised. She had never really thought the two of them were married. “I’m sorry, I just assumed…”
“It’s okay,” he said. “We are just…close. You know?” He smiled, but he looked so uncomfortable that Eden almost felt bad about her plan to pry information out of him.
“I have friends like that too,” she said, an attempt to ease his nerves. The man was practically bouncing on his toes from anxiety. “How long have you known each other?” she asked.
“We worked together some years ago,” he said. “And, we recently just…ran into each other in the grocery store.” He laughed. A nervous laugh. The kind of laugh you do when you’re hiding something that you’d rather not say.
Eden didn’t press anymore. She handed the cup off to Annie as she took Park’s payment. “That was fortuitous!” she said. “It’s like a movie.”
Park just smiled, but he also bit his bottom lip. He glanced away from her, towards the door, just as Meg walked in. She was wearing the black heels today, black blazer with bright pink pants. Her hair was styled into soft curls around her face. She took off her sunglasses as she came towards the counter, reaching for him with one arm. They hugged, greeting one another as if they hadn’t seen each other in years, completely ignoring the fact that Eden was standing not two feet from them.
When Park pulled away from her, he said, “Eden thought we were married.” Then he and Meg both laughed as if it was the funniest thing they had ever heard.
Eden waiting politely and patiently at the counter, knowing what Meg was going to order, but not ringing it in until she was ready.
When Meg finally stopped laughing, she took a long step to the register and said under her breath to Eden, “I mean, if he’d have asked me ten years ago, we would be married.” She laughed at herself some more, and that’s when Eden saw that she was wearing a wedding ring. She tried not to smile too broadly at this bit of information. She couldn’t wait to pick this apart with Annie.
“Iced coffee, room for cream?” Eden asked, not commenting on the information or the scandal that she was imagining.
“You know… today, let me get whatever he got,” Meg said.
Eden froze. This had never happened before. “Sure,” she said, ringing in a second cappuccino and handing the cup off to Annie before she began pushing buttons on the monitor in front of her.
Park and Meg quickly ignored everyone and everything that wasn’t each other. Just like always. Eden watched them from behind the counter intermittently, between serving other customers and keeping the counter tidy. When Annie strolled in, she nearly ran to the backroom to intercept her.
“Meg is married, but Park isn’t. They used to work together but lost touch for a long time, and then ran into each other at the grocery store.”
Annie was tying her around her waist. She didn’t say anything as she retied her ponytail and put on her visor. Eden watched her slow movements, tapping a finger against her arm as she waited. Finally, Annie took a long drink out of her water bottle, screwing the cap back on, and then placing it in the cubby next to her bag and her keys. “So,” Annie began, “it’s not a possibility, but he still wants her.”
Eden grasped onto those words with glee, the secret burning her lips even as she spoke it. “But that’s the thing! I think she wants him too!”
“Did she say something to make you think that?” Annie asked. They both began moving back towards the counter, the door to the back room continuing to swing as they exited the store room.
Eden dropped her voice. “She said, kinda under her breath, that if he’d asked ten years ago, they would be married.”
Annie’s eyes widened for just a moment before a slow smile crept across her face. “Oh, I see,” she said. “So there’s trouble in paradise.”
“She didn’t say anything about her husband to me,” Eden said. Her eyes trailed across the coffee house, resting on the friends as they talked, leaning forward into each other, all smiles. Meg’s face was particularly glorious today, and her black curls were shining just like her expression. She was wearing golden earrings that flashed in the light every time she laughed. She was beautiful.
There was a customer at the counter. Annie moved around her to greet the man and take the order. Eden moved towards the espresso machine to get started making his drink. A line formed behind him, and Eden and Annie didn’t get a chance to talk any more about Meg and Park for a long stretch.
But Eden watched them as they left, hugging one another for a long time (although this time there was no peck on the cheek). They split from one another in the parking lot, each going their own way. Eden wondered if Meg’s husband knew about these meetings with Park. She wondered if Meg was as happy with him as she was when she was here in the coffee house. It didn’t seem like she could look at anyone else with the same intensity as she looked at Park.
“Maybe she’s that way with everyone,” Annie said later, when there was a lull, and they stood behind the counter with their arms crossed, feeling tired and ready for shift end.
Eden looked at her watch. They only had twenty minutes left. “She’s never that way with me,” Eden said. She picked as a thread coming loose on her apron, wondering what the end goal was for either of them. Why would a married woman meet up with a man, especially if she felt such joy like that around him, if she was already happy with another man? Why would a man continually meet a married woman—and kiss her!—if he wasn’t trying to start a relationship with her? It was clear now that the two were not simply friends. But they weren’t quite at the beginning of a romance either. Or were they?
“You know, we don’t know if these are their only meet ups,” Eden offered.
Annie nodded. “So you think they are having affair?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Eden said.
Annie grimaced as if she didn’t agree. “I don’t know. They see too nervous around each other for that.”
Maybe that was true. Eden didn’t know. And really, it wasn’t her business anyway. But they were right there in front of her face at least once a week, and she just wanted to know what was going on.
They started coming into the coffeehouse about 8 months ago. The woman was perhaps in her mid-forties. She colored her hair. Sometimes the roots grew out to where Eden could see them, streaks of gray among the black. She was about Eden’s height, a little over 5 foot 3, unless she was wearing heels. And she liked to wear heels. She wore them with jeans even. She always had a blazer on. Her name was Meg and she drank iced coffee with no flavoring. She always asked for Eden to leave room for cream. She carried a bag that was big enough for a laptop, though Eden never saw her use while she was there.
The man’s name was Park. He was older than Meg Well, maybe. Not by much. His beard was graying, but it was hard to see because it wasn’t thick. He still had a full head of hair though, no balding even though his temples were silver. He wasn’t tall for a man, but he was taller than Meg. Unless she was wearing heels. Then they were the same height. He wore everything from jeans, to suits, to sweats when they came in. Sometimes he had a backpack. Sometimes he brought nothing. He would usually arrive first, and he would wait near the counter for her before he ordered. He drank everything on the menu, but he had his favorites—the cappuccino with a swirl of vanilla syrup, or the americano. Lots of days he just ordered black.
“Do you think they’re dating?” Eden asked her coworker, Annie. Meg and Park came into the coffeehouse in the middle of the day, at least once a week. It was usually slow at that time of day and she liked to gossip about the customers to anyone else who was with her.
“Beats me,” Annie said, smacking her gum, though she too was looking at the table were the pair were talking with their heads close together.
They never touched, but they always smiled. Sometimes they would hug, but not all the time. Mostly they would just sit, leaning into each other, just like they were doing now. It always made Eden think of the scene from Lady and the Tramp when the dogs were eating spaghetti. All those two needed was an excuse to kiss and Eden was sure they would do it. Whatever was in their bags from day to day went untouched.
They didn’t do any work together. The laptops, if they had them in their bags, never emerged. They didn’t check their phones. They didn’t ever write anything down on a notepad produced from Park’s backpack or Meg’s purse. These were not meet ups for anything other than drinking coffee and staring into each other’s eyes.
“Maybe they’re having an affair,” Eden said. The shop was slower than usual today.
“He doesn’t wear a wedding ring,” Annie countered as she swept the floor.
Eden stuck her hands into her apron pocket, studying that hands of her patrons. She could clear see that Park did not wear a wedding ring, but she couldn’t see Meg’s left had at all. It was clutched around her coffee cup. Meg’s hair was tied up in a ponytail today. She was wearing a black turtle neck under her blazer, and her jeans were a dark wash. She had a patent leather black pumps. She had crossed her legs and was sitting back in her chair as Park told her a story. He was in jeans and tennis shoes, and his zip up was dark gray. He had been wearing a green plaid scarf but he’d taken it off his neck about ten minutes ago, and it was slung over the back of her chair across the peacoat he wore. Meg laughed at something he said and then leaned forward, nearly whispering to him in response. It was so annoying that Eden could never hear what they were saying.
“Maybe he’s her brother,” Annie said, coming behind her to whisper the words into her ear.
A customer approached the counter and she was momentarily distracted from her spying. She took the man’s order and as she stepped the espresso machine, she saw that Meg was standing up. Park stood too. Today they hugged. It was a short hug today—not a lover’s hug, not a long, lingering “I’ll miss you”, not a hug for someone who is having a rough day. Just a quick one armed hug. They were both still holding their coffee cups as they moved to the door. Park took Meg’s cup so she could button her jacket, and then she returned the favor. The two of them stared at each other, smiling awkwardly, like they didn’t want to say goodbye. Then Park leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She laughed and it looked like he apologized, though Meg didn’t look upset at all. Her face was rosy, glowing even. They left the coffee house.
Eden handed the drink to the waiting customer at the counter, then went to find Annie. She was putting the broom away in the back. “He’s not her brother,” she said. “He kissed her!” she said.
Annie didn’t seem nearly as scandalized as Eden felt. “What kind of kiss?”
“Just a quick peck on the cheek,” Eden said.
Annie frowned, and blew a bubble with her gum. “Eh…could still be her brother I guess.”
“My brother never kisses me. And he doesn’t look at me like that.”
“Yeah, that’s fair,” Annie said. “Next time they come in, you should ask how they know each other.”
“What…just…ask?” Eden gasped.
“Why not? They come in here all the time. You know their names. You now exactly what Meg is going to order, and you can form a good guess for what Park is going to order based on what he’s wearing. They make chitchat with you sometimes. Why not ask them?”
I started writing a prequel story to my first novel, The World Between, near the end of 2021. I have not worked on it much in the last two years, but I have a few ideas on paper at this point, including a complete prologue. I shared the first section of the prologue last year (read it here). The following excerpt is from the second section. This work is tentatively titled The Land of Stars and Bones, though, as it takes shape, that title might change.
Etheldra gazed upward into the night. Here at the edge of the woods, on the shore, the sky was wide and open. She marveled at its beauty. The waves crashed against the rocks to the north, the steady drumming of the water against the land an unending song. She lowered her gaze, squinting in the dark to the find the horizon. The stars sparkled on the surface of the ocean. It looked like one huge mass of endless depth and rebirth.
Someone approached behind her. The soft scuff of their boots against the gravel where she sat drew her gaze over her shoulder. It was her brother, Arathel. “Were you following me?” she asked tenderly.
“No,” he answered, coming to stand beside her. “I don’t have to follow you anymore. I know this is where you disappear to.”
She smirked wryly at him, hiding it by ducking her chin. She could feel his pale eyes on her. She turned back to meet his gaze. He was worried. His brow was creased.
“What troubles you?” she asked.
“I came to ask you the same,” Arathel answered.
She shook away what she had seen in the grove and what she knew it would mean for her future. “You saw him, didn’t you?”
Arathel hummed, a note of understanding. “Is that the only thing that worries you?” he asked.
Etheldra almost smiled, though she didn’t feel any mirth. “You know me too well, Arathel,” she said, looking up at him.
“There is a new darkness spreading,” he replied quietly. His voice was like stone.
She closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of her brother’s worried face. The wind tossed her hair over her shoulder. She fell deep within herself, listening for the sound of The Great Maker’s voice. The god’s slow whispers drifted through her soul. There was warning there.
She opened her eyes. “It is no different than before,” she stated, though she felt more urgency from the god than she previously had. She turned to regard her brother, but Arathel had also fallen deep within. She reached for his hand and fell away again. The whispering moved through her. She let The Great Maker fill her with his desires and emotions.
Run. Run!
She crashed to the surface, breaking off her connection.
“He’s afraid,” Arathel said definitively.
The words crawled through her. “He’s a god. Why should he be afraid?”
Arathel squeezed her hand, clutching it against him, as if it steadied him. “He made this world, Etheldra. But there is one who can unmake it.”
She swallowed her fears noisily. “He is a lesser god,” she replied, not feeling the conviction that once armored her.
Arathel released her hand gently, then lowered his eyes and kicked a stone at his feet. Etheldra watched it roll towards the water. It came to rest against a larger rock with a clink. “Sometimes,” he began slowly, “I wonder if there were other worlds that were swallowed by his darkness.”
Etheldra drew a ragged breath, not wanting to hear his theories of previous lives, previous worlds, previous darkness. “There is only this world, Arathel.”
“The Great Maker revealed to you that there were no other worlds?” Arathel asked pointedly. His eyes, so pale even in the darkness, seemed to implant doubt into her.
“No,” she replied quietly. “Has he revealed to you that there were?”
For a moment, she believed Arathel was going to tell her he’d had a revelation. She even opened her mouth expectantly, ready to exclaim. But her brother only shook his head at her. “No,” he answered. His whisper was nearly lost in the sound of the waves. “No, he hasn’t revealed that to me.”
Etheldra nodded, relieved. She turned back to the stars, twinkling above and below the waters. “Sometimes,” she said softly, with a conspiratorial tone, “I think the stars are souls.” She waited for a reply, but Arathel did not offer one. Having confessed that much, she continued, “That’s why I come here. To try to touch them.”
Her brother made a low noise in his throat. “They aren’t souls Etheldra. That’s just where the souls live.”
She smiled to herself. “Has that been revealed to you?” she asked playfully.
A short laugh escaped him. “This is why I think there must be other worlds. Why would The Great Maker keep so many souls among the stars?” he asked.
She wondered about the question, and the answer, before replying. “You said it yourself. It’s where the souls live.”
“Then why are we here?” her brother wondered aloud. He crossed his arms, and stroked his thumb and forefinger over his chin.
Etheldra often wondered this too. “The Great Maker made us,” she answered weakly. “Pulled us from the stars.”
“Is that why the darkness is chasing us?” Arathel pressed.
Her stomach lurched at his question. His intense, piercing stare unnerved her. “We can put the darkness back where it came from,” she argued.
“Every time?” Arathel asked.
Etheldra looked away from him, trying not to remember The Great Maker’s frantic words. “We’ve always been able to,” she countered.
Arathel kicked another rock in response. This one went further than the last and was swallowed up by the waves. “The darkness is trying to put us back where we belong.”
Etheldra turned her eyes back to the shimmering expanse. “Don’t we belong here now?”
“But you feel that longing to return. Don’t you?” Arathel asked.
She closed her eyes, listening deep. The whispers of The Great Maker soothed her. “I don’t even remember it,” she said smoothly, a whisper as soft as the breeze. “I don’t remember being anywhere but here.” Sometimes she thought she could remember sailing among the stars, but it was more like a half-remembered dream than anything. She knew memory was not solid. It changed just as her desires did, and her imagination filled in the gaps.
When she opened her eyes, Arathel was deep within himself. She tried to hear the voice of The Great Maker moving through him, but it was too faint. She waited, content to listen instead to the voices on the wind. It carried a song to her, the music of a flute underneath a female voice. The celebrations would last long into the night, as they always did. She wondered if Harendil, her husband, was still among the revelers. She tried not to think of him dancing. Her hands went to her stomach for just a moment and she pressed against her flesh, feeling for the hard knot within. Was the soul of the child inside her already there, or was it still above her in the sea of stars?
Arathel cleared his throat. “Are you ill?” he asked.
She dropped her hands. “I am pregnant,” she said, not looking at him.
“Ah,” he answered. She turned her head towards him, brows furrowed in confusion at his knowing sigh. “It makes sense now. Why you have been coming here more often lately.”
She nodded. “I’ve always liked the shore,” she began, “but the last few moons have had me wondering. And this is a good place to wonder.”
“What are you wondering?” Arathel asked.
She looked back to the sky. She could almost imagine that she could see the stars swirling. “How any of us came to be,” she replied.
“You mean, how your child came to be,” Arathel replied, his voice exuding confidence that his thinking was correct.
She smiled at him, then turned her eyes out to the ocean, listening past the waves to the music of the flute ululating from the woods. She looked again for the horizon, but could only see one great expanse of darkness, dotted with light. “Yes,” she admitted. “This child is what has me wondering about these things.”
Arathel, sensing perhaps that she was not moving from the beach any time soon, slowly lowered himself to the stones next to her. He stretched out his legs in front of him, and leaned back on his elbows, staring up into the stars. They were both quiet for a time, listening to the sound of the water. “Last time the darkness came, I didn’t think we could beat it back,” Arathel confessed.
The wind gusted, blowing her loose hair away from her face. Etheldra felt the agreement bubbling up within her, but she did not want to release it into the world. “He was strong. He gets stronger the longer he waits to try again.”
Arathel hummed in thought. She could feel his vibrating anxiety at her words. She shivered, her skin prickling with fear. “How long has it been, do you think?”
Etheldra’s people did not count time. They kept track of seasons and celestial bodies, but did not keep records. She thought about how many children had been born to her family since the last time the darkness came. “Amdril has had five generations of children born from her line,” she said, referring to their cousin, who had been carrying a babe the last time the darkness came.
“That’s…twice as long as it was before,” Arathel said, thinking aloud. He shifted, and the pebbles crunched. “Is that right?”
Etheldra closed her eyes, thinking of their family tree. “Before that, the darkness came after I had bound myself to Harendil, but we had not married yet.”
“That was before Mother Fianel gave birth to Elundiel,” Arathel added.
The confusion of how to count generations was why no one bothered to keep records. Etheldra and Arathel were older than Elundiel, their father’s youngest sister. Mother Fianel, their grandmother, had gone on to have two more children, both boys. Amdril’s oldest children were older than either of these uncles. Why bother keeping records of it? It was too confusing.
Etheldra nodded. “And the time before that?” she asked. “Was it shorter?”
Arathel shook his head. “I was a child,” he answered. “Almost too young to remember.”
She had been young too, but she remembered vividly. The sky had caught fire one night, raining down flames of chaos into the deep ocean. The steam had threatened to choke the life from her. She recalled how raw her mother’s face had seemed, when she opened the door of the cottage, to find Etheldra and Arathel hiding under the bed where she had left them. Arathel had been very young, not quite old enough to have his own bow, though their father had given him one anyway. He clutched the weapon tightly, determined to defend her should he need to. But he was a child, and he had cried as the darkness covered the world.
Etheldra pushed aside the memories wearily. “When he comes again, he will be much stronger.” She fell into the slow murmuring of the god who dwelled within her. Run. Run. Run.
Arathel laid his hand on her shoulder, linking into her communion. His hand fell away a moment later. “I don’t understand. Where is there to run?”
Etheldra shook her head, an admission that she had no answer for him. Her eyes went back to the stars, to the souls swirling above her in the sky. In the distance, drums began to beat. Etheldra smiled to herself. The celebrations would not be winding down any time soon. She turned to her brother. “You can go back to the glade if you wish,” she said.
Arathel rose from his recline on the beach, hunching forward instead. “And leave you here?”
She rose to her feet, brushing the back of her skirts free of debris. “I’ve done enough contemplation here tonight.”
She followed her brother, a half step behind, back home to the safety of the woods.
When the text came to her phone, pinging like a clear bell in the finally silent house, she almost didn’t look at it. Whoever it was could wait until morning. These night time hours were precious—when she could draw, or paint, ink, stamp, glue, print, tape in peace. Amy finished the last stroke, letting the pen tip end in a flourish atop the stalk of golden grain on her page. She held up the drawing to the light, taking a moment to examine it, and feel her own pride swelling, before she carefully laid it down on the desk. She reached for her phone—she had left it on the bookshelf behind her—and saw that it was from Gabby.
The good mood that she had carefully cultivated over the last hour in her studio melted when she saw the name on the screen. She opened her iMessages and read through what she knew would either be a request for help, or some kind of emotional breakdown that she did not have the energy nor patience to engage with.
Hey! How are you? Do you have a screwdriver I can borrow? I need it to fix the handle on these cabinets that we hung in the garage. Aaron took his whole tool bag home so I don’t have anything to tighten up these screws.
Go buy one, Amy thought to herself. She put her phone back on her shelf. She closed her eyes and tried to remember that moment of pride she had just a minute before. Before Gabby’s neediness and insecurity and incompetence and ineptness intruded into her perfect evening. The anger inside her would not settle. She picked up her phone and pulled up her messages with Andrew.
How do you break up with a friend? She typed it out fast, her fingers fueled by a searing rage that was months in the making.
I don’t think you do. I think you just ghost them. She could hear the flatness of his tone in the words on the screen. He would have raised one eyebrow if she had been there, an unspoken question lurking inside the expression. They had talked about Gabby before. How terrible she was for Amy’s mental health, because she was so oblivious to anyone else’s needs, desires, interests or insecurities. How Amy had to do so much hand holding to be her friend. How Amy had to take a backseat to what Gabby wanted when they were together. And how Gabby always needed something from her, but never gave her anything in return. She didn’t return favors. She didn’t want to. All she did was take. The entire relationship was for her benefit.
That’s not working. She keeps texting me. Amy sighed, then got up from the desk. She pressed her forehead against the window of her in-home studio, looking at nothing in the darkness behind her house. None of her neighbors had exterior lights on at this time of night. There was a new moon, and the stars were hidden by patchy clouds and light pollution. It looked like the end of the world at her doorstep. The ping of another text drew her attention.
Well, you keep answering her messages, even if it does take you a few days. Andrew was typing something else. The three blinking dots were like lasers into her eyes. She stared without blinking until the next message came through. Just ignore her.
Just ignore her. How could she ignore someone who had taken up so much space inside her head?
Amy returned to the desk, where she pushed aside the drawing that she had just completed, and turned to a new page in her sketchbook. She adjusted the neck of the desk lamp. She leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other before placing the heavy sketchpad on her lap. She let her hand move freely, not thinking. The whirlwind of annoyance calmed as she drew—each line like a cresting wave, or blooming flower, a sparkling star. She laid the pencil down on the desk and examined what she had drawn.
A mess of blots and screws dotted the page, and in the middle, a simple line drawing of a woman with a short bob and big glasses yelling “how am I supposed to fix this?” At her feet lay a shattered vase and in her hand, she clutched a hammer. Amy smiled at the picture, a commentary on the tempestuous Gabby. Something was always wrong in her life, and usually, it was her own fault. But the smile did not last long. She was ready to be done with this relationship for good.
She texted Andrew first. I think I just need to tell her. You know. Like I would if she were a guy.
His reply came almost instantly. You mean, you actually are gonna break up with her?
She hovered over the screen. There was a sea of concerns she could not name. She second guessed herself. She flipped over to Gabby’s message, and re-reading it. She almost typed out a reply, something benign like I’d have to find mine, or Just ask Aaron to bring his back, or I can’t get it to you this week. Then she thought of typing something she actually wanted to say. Screwdrivers are really cheap, so you could buy your own. Stop asking me for things. Don’t text me anymore.
She didn’t text Gabby any of these things. She went back to her chat with Andrew. Yeah, I think I am gonna break up with her. She is an emotional vampire. She put her phone down on the desk, and her eyes fell to the drawing of the woman with the shattered vase. In the past, Amy would have helped Gabby pick up that vase, and glue it back together. But she could never take the hammer out of Gabby’s hand, and that was the real problem. Until Gabby decided to stop sabotaging her friendships with her inability to be self-aware, that vase would keep getting broken. Amy didn’t want to clean up the pieces of it anymore.
Her phone pinged. She read Andrew’s response without picking up her phone, her face hovering over the screen so the camera would recognize her. I really wish I could just break up with Jeff. But I’ve invested too much in the friendship at this point I think.
The posture she had taken on made her feel like a crone. She sat up straight in the chair, and picked up the phone to reply. She typed out the message with one finger. He’s not the best friend imo but you have been friends a long time. Maybe it’s different. Now Amy was getting tired. Gabby didn’t even have to be in the room with her in order to suck all the life from her. Just the thought of having to interact with her was enough to make Amy feel like it was time to go to bed. She rubbed a hand over her face, wishing there was an easier way. She pulled up the chat with Gabby and stared at the blinking cursor in the new message. Hey she wrote, before she erased it.
She tidied up the studio—restacking papers on the shelves, putting away paint tubes, pouring out old coffee—before she turned off the light. She thought about Gabby, and how she used to feel like a kindred spirit. How had it gotten so bad? Had she just not seen the signs of narcissism and immaturity before? Or had something in herself changed. Was she the one who was in the wrong here? It didn’t feel like she was. Then why do I feel so bad about this?
It was now 11 pm. She’d left all the lights on in the house when she went into the studio. She went through the house turning them off one by one, then pattered to the bedroom where she found the cat curled up on top of her pajamas. The whole bed to lay on, and the cat decided to lay on the one tiny section where she’d left her shirt. Amy shooed her away, then stripped down. Before she could redress she heard the ping of another text coming through. She picked up the phone from where she had tossed it on the bed.
Did you do it? She imagined Andrew chewing his nails for an hour waiting for a word from her. Her brother always wanted all her gossip.
No not yet. She pulled on the nightshirt and tossed her dirty clothes into the hamper. She was halfway through brushing her teeth, wondering what Gabby was doing, when she got the second text from her that she knew was coming. There was always a second text that made it seem like Gabby didn’t want to be an inconvenience, but it was always a disguise for her not wanting to do any work for herself. Gabby wanted a hand out, and she’d take it from anyone who was willing to give it to her.
If it’s easier, I can come get it from you tomorrow. That way you won’t have to drive out to my place.
Amy wanted to scream. What would be easiest was if Gabby bought herself a screwdriver and left her alone forever. This was how it had been since they first met. Can I borrow that book? Do you have an extra sweatshirt I can wear? Can you swing by the store on your way over? Can you give me a ride? Can you recommend a house sitter? A dog sitter? A vet? A plumber? Can you tell me which plants I should get? Can I come over? Can you bring me a few of those candies you like when I see you tonight? Can I come to your next book club? Can you bake me a loaf of bread? My friend needs a cake; can you make one? Take, take, take, take, take.
And yet, whenever Amy needed something, Gabby was never there. Oh sorry, I was on the phone. I was asleep. I have ADD. I was having a panic attack. I didn’t see your message. I was at work. I had a client. I was in a meeting. I was out with a friend. She never gave anything back.
As she furiously scrubbed her teeth clean, she knew it would never get better. She looked at herself in the mirror, how her face was a mask of anger—and hurt—over how this woman, who was supposed to be her friend had put an enormous strain on her by taking advantage of how compassionate and helpful she was. This was the problem with loving to help other people. Sometimes, you ended up in a toxic friendship that sucked away all your desire to help anyone. Amy finished brushing and slowly wiped her mouth. She continued to look at her reflection, relaxing her face until she could see herself and not her anger. She turned off the bathroom light, and then sat down on the edge of her bed.
Hey, actually, I have been meaning to talk to you about something. I don’t think this friendship is good for me. We can talk about this if you’d like. When she hit send her heart was beating like she had just run 12 miles.
Gabby’s response was instantaneous. Oh, that’s fine. No need to explain yourself. Sorry if I made your life hard.
Amy stared at the screen, wrestling with that part of herself that liked to keep everything smooth and comfortable for other people. Was it really that simple? Did Gabby really not need any explanation from her? Did she not care at all, or was this sarcasm? She laid her phone down, feeling relieved, and confused by that relief. But the confusion was short lived.
She lifted her phone again and texted her brother. I did it.
His reply too was instantaneous. Good. I’m proud of you.
She smiled to herself, reading over his words again. Why hadn’t she told the truth to Gabby months ago? It had been so easy, because a friend like Gabby never really cared what she thought anyway. Amy had a crawling feeling that she would just move onto the next person who liked to please other people, but she also recognized that was not her problem. She had cut Gabby loose, and now, she would never have to let her borrow things she didn’t intend to return, or listen to problems she had no intention of fixing, or complain about difficulties that were caused by her aggressively selfish behavior. She was free.
Yeah, I’m proud of me too. She ended the message with a smiley face.
The Quick and the Dead 