Authors: Bonnie Wheeler
I didn’t fight for Will. I’ll be damned if I let Brian go.
Angela may have won last night, but she wouldn’t allow the bitch to disrespect her again.
Marge glanced beneath the counter. The metal lock box was still there. From the coat of dust strewing the cover, she knew it hadn’t been touched since the day Herman, the store owner’s husband, insisted on giving her and Veronica a demonstration. It was the only time she held its content, mesmerized by the power the pure weight of the
Ruger
held in her hands. Herman insisted they keep it in the event they were ever held up, making each woman practice swiping off the safety with their right thumbs while pushing the lever down into the firing position.
Once they mastered that, he
demonstrated the proper stance necessary when shooting, followed by how to take aim at their target.
Veronica laughed at the idea of using a weapon as self-defense in a flower shop, but Marge secretly loved the option of pulling out the pistol if the need arise. With a fully loaded magazine ready to go, it would be nothing to fire off at will.
No one would ever suspect Marge had access to a gun.
Lifting the box, she knew Angela could be convinced.
3
0
KATIE
Friday 2:15 PM
After doing some well thought out shopping, Katie brought home the grocery items and put them away. Another
week of ramen soup and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches would have to do. While looking for her mother’s tampons, Katie found exactly what she needed for her costume – a box of Clairol, Nice and Easy in brilliant red.
Studying her purchase laid out before her on the coffee table, a thrill of nervous excitement sent goose bumps peppering across her skin. Once the idea had taken hold, Katie couldn’t get the image out of her mind. Longing for change, doing something as drastic as cutting her hair and coloring the blond a rich red was the perfect beginning.
A rebirth of sorts…
She wasn’t going to dress as Daisy, but she was going to copy the waitress’s hair. She loved the movie “Fifth Element” and thought she could pull off
Milla
Jovovich’s
look with the new do. Her mother owned a pair of skin tight leather pants and a black mesh shirt she could wear over her red tank top. It would not be exactly the same as the film, but futuristic enough.
I just want to feel different.
Turning the box over in her hands, Katie wondered how hard dye was to put in. From the picture on the back, it didn’t appear difficult. Cutting it may prove a greater challenge, but
she had seen people on TV put their hair in a ponytail and cut it just under the elastic.
Mom will have a flaming fit.
Marge had an unhealthy obsession with her hair and insisted it was important for sex appeal. Katie found the routine of washing and styling it every day to be tedious. Whenever she mentioned the desire to go short, her mother would insist it was a mistake because men preferred women with long hair. As much as the teen bemoaned her mother’s insistence, the woman failed to let Katie experiment with her look.
Maybe she’ll notice me now.
A knock at the door startled her from her plans. Glancing at the time on the cable box, she knew it was too early in the day for her mother to be locked out or friends from school stopping bye. Unless…
Please don’t let it be Davey.
Moving to the door, Katie considered pretending she wasn’t home. Just because she skipped school didn’t mean she was lying around doing nothing. Maybe the boy decided to blow off the rest of the day to see if she changed her mind. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Davey, because she truly did.
After watching her mother unravel over men, Katie just couldn’t allow herself to get lost in another person.
Edging up on her toes, Katie spied through the peephole. Her father’s familiar face popped into view.
What is he doing here?
In the three years that Katie lived in the small apartment, Williston had never ventured further than the driveway. Never had he asked to come up, nor did she make the offer to invite him in. The cramped space was supposed to be her mother’s territory – it was an unspoken arrangement she thought her father understood.
Opening the door, Williston’s expression softened when he saw her.
“You’re okay,” he said, stepping past her into the living room. “I was worried.”
“I’m fine.”
Katie watched as he studied the room. She knew the apartment was nothing like the house she had grown up in. According to her mother, her father was devastated when he was forced to sell, but Williston didn’t seem as upset about it as Marge made out. He moved into a large contemporary with Thomas on the outskirts of town.
“Why does it smell like smoke in here?” Williston’s nostrils flared, sniffing the air.
“Mom smokes,” Katie replied, unwilling to admit that she did too on occasion. A gentle pull on a cigarette helped numb her appetite.
“She shouldn’t do it in the house. Why is it so hot in here?”
Disliking the tone in her father’s voice, Katie placed her hands on her hips, refusing to answer him. He had no right to judge their home. They were doing okay without him.
“Why are you here?”
“I got a call from Liz
Donorfio
at the school. She said it has been four days since you came to class, so I assumed you and your mother either took off to parts unknown or you were on your death bed. Either way, I was concerned.” Her father considered her, looking for signs of illness.
“Well, as you can see I’m fine.” Katie knew she sounded petulant. Biting back the rotten reply that was itching to come out, she stated, “You could have just called.”
Picking a spot at the end of the couch, Katie motioned for her father to take a seat in the rocking chair. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like fighting with him. Williston was obviously
worried or he would not have come across town to see if she was okay.
“Are you fine?” he asked. “Because the counselor said you aren’t going to pass this quarter unless you really make a significant effort. She also said you’re borderline truant and that you’ve exceeded the number of days allowed for excused absenteeism.”
Katie ran her hands through her hair. She knew he was right. He was saying the same things her teachers had been lecturing her about since the beginning of the year.
“I know. I do want to change,” she paused, trying to find the words, “I just don’t know what my hold up is.”
“Do you want to graduate? Go to college?” He leaned forward on his elbows, his expression rich with worry.
“Of course,” she answered.
Do I?
“Then you have to work harder,” he said. “You can do this. You’re a bright girl.”
“I know.”
Williston reached out and put a hand on Katie’s knee. Giving it a light squeeze, his encouragement felt somewhat
familiar. She remembered him using the same tone of voice when he removed her training wheels so many years ago.
He used to be good like that.
Katie watched his eyes narrow. Following his line of sight, she realized he was looking at the box of Clairol still sitting on the coffee table.
“Halloween,” she stated without him needing to ask. “I thought it would be fun to go red.”
“Is it permanent?” Her father asked, scratching his chin.
“Yes. I like red hair.”
Reaching into his coat, Williston removed his billfold. The rich leather looked expensive. Counting out five twenty dollar bills, he offered the cash to his daughter. “I’m not an expert when it comes to women’s hair, but I think you better have a professional do it.”
Katie stared at the one hundred dollars he was offering over so easily. Her mother would never be able to give her so much. It would require weeks of budgeting for such a luxury.
Of course he doesn’t have a teen to feed.
Agitation began to mount. It didn’t seem fair that her father had it so easy.
“Go ahead,” he encouraged. “Take it.”
“That is five times what we had left after the bills to buy groceries for this week.”
Minus the cancer sticks…
Life had come easy for him since he left, but not for anyone else. She hoped her comment would make him feel guilty when he returned to his nice life with Thomas.
Williston shifted in his seat. “Why did your mother only have twenty dollars for groceries?”
“Veronica doesn’t pay much and you only send $200.00 a month for child support.”
Standing abruptly, her father began pacing the room. “Is that what she tells you?
Because I send more than that each week.
Is she drinking again?”
Embarrassed, Katie just sat there, vainly trying to recover. Her mother must have been using the extra money for her afternoons at the motel with Brian. She assumed the preacher was footing the bill, but now it made sense.
He would have had to keep it from his wife.
“What does she do with all her money, Katie?” Williston glanced her way, challenge lighting his eyes. “Spend it on clothes?
Booze?”
“I don’t know,” she blinked.
“Maybe on her boyfriend.”
All of the times I’ve gone without?
Why?
“Who is she seeing?”
Disliking the abrupt change in his mood, Katie paused.
“Brian Jones for a few months now.”
“The reverend?” he clarified, his tone incredulous.
“Who are you?
The moral police now?”
Katie demanded, irritated with his question. Her mother wasn’t perfect, but Williston had no right to judge her either. “If I recall, you were married when you began your affair. Mom was blindsided.”
Her father just looked at her, his face softening. “I made mistakes I regret. Hurting you and your mother was never my intention. I’ve tried to make up for it by offering as much support as I can.”
Katie ignored his answer. He was being the nice guy again and it bothered her.
“She didn’t get out of bed for six months after you left.
Nanna
had to come and stay with us because all
Mom
would eat was applesauce and she cried all day. Meanwhile, you got to have the life you wanted.” Her words were clipped, but she was thankful to say them. He needed to feel responsible.