Fight on the Shampoo Aisle

Fight on the Shampoo Aisle

“Shit.” I grab Troy’s hand and drag him down another aisle, all the way thinking, “This can’t be happening.” As we get to the end of the shampoo aisle and I wait to see if he comes this way, I hold my breath. I peek up at Troy from beneath my baseball cap, and he is looking at me like I’m crazy. Oh Lord, how do I explain this one? Just keep it short and sweet. “I saw Matt,” I say. His eyes are immediately lit by a spark that I recognize as rage, and I know what’s coming. Troy is one of my closest friends and a potential boyfriend that I’ve been dating for a few weeks now. That look is one that I’ve seen many times; it comes right before the brawl. “No, Troy, don’t do it. Not here, not tonight.” We are in the middle of Wal-Mart for Christ’s sake, and I know Matt would be no match for him. This is what he lives for, and he hates Matt for what he did to me.

 It seems like just yesterday that I was with Matt and I couldn’t have been happier. We spent every day we could together over the summer. With his work schedule and mine, we didn’t have a lot of free time, but every free moment was shared. Or so I had thought. All those days lying out in the sun, swimming for hours, driving 100 miles per hour down highway 67, were just memories now. Memories that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make fade. I only thought he was spending all his free time with me. I thought that the suspicious feeling that I had was only because he had broken my heart once before, when I was 17. I talked myself out of the conclusions I came to when I read his text messages. I tried to ignore the fact that he didn’t even show up until 9:30 that night, his explanation for being so late being “he was with Richard.” When he explained, I tried to blind myself to the fact that he didn’t smell like cigarette smoke, which was the norm when he was with Richard, who smoked two packs a day. He smelled fresh and clean. And I let it go. Stupid, stupid girl.

Now, here I stood, on the shampoo aisle of Wal-Mart in shorts, cowboy boots, and a baseball cap, trying to drag Troy in the opposite direction. He is much bigger than me and I am making no progress. His own boots simply move in Matt’s direction, pulling me effortlessly along with my boots skidding on the dirty tile floor. Damn this cowboy. He’s going to beat Matt senseless and get arrested. I’m going to have to bail him out of jail. Damn it. “Troy, please, let’s just get what we came for and go home.” He looks down at me, his black cowboy hat shading his bright blue eyes. “Dennie, this guy’s got it comin. I told you if I ever saw him, his ass had better run. Fast.” It’s hopeless. I know it, Troy knows it, and soon Matt’s going to know it. This is small town drama at its finest, with Wal-Mart as our stage.

I tug on Troy’s arm one last time, as if suddenly I’ll have super strength and can make him budge. Here it comes. I’ve been avoiding this for three months, but it’s finally here. I can’t believe it’s been over that long since he left me. It’s only been five weeks since I found out why. After all the time we spent together, everything we shared, and he cheats on me. With her, “Emily.” Ugh, such a nasty word. I gag a little just thinking it. If I ever see her with her dirty blonde hair and smug grin, Lord help me. I’ll slap all of that eyeliner right off of her face. I’m guessing that’s about how Troy feels about Matt right now. I let the tension fall from my arms, admitting defeat and giving Troy the okay to do what I know he’s going to do anyways.

He recognizes his success, and smiles as he puts his arm around my waist and plants a quick kiss on my lips. After the kiss I look up, and Matt is standing at the end of the aisle. Seeing him sickens me, and I can feel my stomach churning and my face turning red. Seeing him there, Troy kisses me again, attempting to rub salt in the wound he knows he’s just inflicted on Matt. Matt just stands there and stares, and I can see betrayal in his eyes. This is hurting him, I can see it, but I can’t understand it. He left me….

Before I can finish this thought, Troy is walking away from me. Matt attempts to walk casually past, but Troy put a large, callused hand in the middle of Matt’s chest, stopping him in his tracks. My eyes burn, and I fight the tears back. This is going to be ugly. “What the hell, man.” Matt says this with a brave face, but I know him well enough to know that his heart is racing. Troy stands at least four inches taller and is well known for picking a fight. “Don’t walk away from me, asshole.” Troy’s voice is almost a growl as he says it, and Matt’s green eyes burn with anger. All I can do is stand aside and watch the inevitable. Troy keeps his hand in Matt’s chest, and pushes him out in front of him. A moment later Matt takes a swing at Troy, who dodges it and comes back with a fist to Matt’s cheekbone. Matt staggers for just a moment before Troy hits him again, this time in the eye.

When Matt stumbles backward this time, I put myself between them and look up at Troy and say, “Enough.” He knows me well enough to know when I mean it, and he backs down. Matt is leaning against the shelves full of brightly colored shampoo bottles, hand over his soon-to-be-black left eye. I almost feel sorry for him as I walk away with Troy, his rough hand in mine. This sorrowful feeling disappears as I hear a voice call, “Matt? Maaatt?” You have got to be kidding me. Emily comes around the corner and stops directly in front of me. As she realizes who I am, I watch the color drain from her face and fear creep into her eyes. I look her up and down, and am disgusted. Wavy, dirty blonde hair, cheap blue dress, cheap red heels. She tried so hard to look cheap. I don’t know what he sees in her. She’s not even that pretty. I know I’m far prettier, but this doesn’t make me feel any better.

Suddenly she gets a look over my shoulder and sees Matt, the bruises already forming on his cheek, and her jaw drops. She raises a manicured hand to her open mouth and looks back at me, as if expecting that she’s next. I can feel Troy’s eyes on me, trying to judge what my response will be, but I can’t move. This is her, the reason for my misery, the girl who won. She nervously fidgets with the oversized beads around her neck, looking for an escape route. I decide that there has been enough fighting for one day and step around her, pulling a stunned Troy with me. She rushes to Matt’s side and takes a look at his face, saying, “Oh baby, that looks awful,” and making a fuss.

Hearing her call him baby is too much, and I pull away from Troy and walk towards her. With every step I think about summer nights and the roses he cut for me himself. I think about looking at potential houses and talking about marriage. I think about his green eyes, and how they pull me to him. She has her back to me and Matt’s eyes widen because he knows me well enough to know exactly what’s about to happen. I tap her on the shoulder and as she turns to face me, her face becomes even grayer than before. I feel adrenaline rushing through my veins as my hand forms a fist and makes contact with her nose. She screams in terror as Matt just stands there, dumbfounded. Before I walk away, I look at her sitting on the ground, blood running down her face. “Bitch.” It’s the only word she deserves to hear, and it’s the only one I give her. I walk quickly down the aisle, amazed that this whole time, throughout this whole ordeal, not one person has noticed the fight on the shampoo aisle.

As I reach Troy, he looks down smugly at me, saying with his eyes, “Yeah, and you tried to stop ME?” I just take his hand in mine and pull him with me towards the exit. We can shop at HEB. “Dee, you’re a badass.” I look up at the handsome young man as we make our retreat, and his blue eyes are full of excitement. I laugh now too, amazed at what we just did. “Yeah,” I say, “I know.”

Just One Night

Just One Night

***I decided that I would try something a little different with rotating points of view....my main concern is that the story is not too confusing for the reader***

Hope hops out of the Chevy into the cold December wind. As soon as her boots hit the pavement, her blonde hair is whisked into her face. She looks at Jessey through the golden screen of hair and can see that he is fighting angrily to keep the hood of his jacket out of his own face, making quite a scene in the empty parking lot. She doesn’t care that it’s cold, especially for Texas, that it’s ridiculously windy, or that it’s after midnight. This is the best time she’d had since the break up.

Jessey finally manages to get his hood under control, heatedly flinging it over his shoulder, and he looks over at Hope. She’s zipping up her jacket, blonde hair blowing wildly in the wind. His chest swells and his heart races. He’s been crazy about this girl since the 7^th grade, when they were twelve years old. And now here they are, him 20, her a month away from it, on their first date. She is in college and he is in the army, and he leaves to return to Germany first thing in the morning. They have just one night.

She runs around the truck to the driver’s side, where he has already opened the kite they just bought and is struggling to assemble it. How exactly they ended up buying a large, plastic Batman kite she isn’t sure, but she’s excited to see how this is going to work out. He’s so close, and she can feel his breath on her cheek as they finally get the kite completed. Just an hour before, he kissed her just once in the theatre as the movie ended. All those years of chemistry in middle and high school had finally led to that one soft, quick, amazing kiss. She pushed her hair out of her face and smiled.

She looks to her right at him, sitting in Ms. Wenecke’s 8^th grade science class. She had been friends with Jessey for a year already, and despite Ms. Wernecke’s obvious insanity, this was her favorite class because Jessey was in it.

“Look at the little creeper now.”

Jessey says this with an amused tone in his voice, and they both look across the classroom where the hamster cage sat. Spanky. The little furball had to be the spawn of Satan, much like Ms. Wernecke herself. Yesterday when Hope and Jessey had tried to feed him and clean up his cage a little, the little monster had bitten them both and peed in Jessey’s hand. Spanky bit everyone and everyone hated him. But the balance of power was about to change.

“You got em?” she asks.

Jessey smiles and nods, pulling a blue pack of Shock Tarts out of his pocket. The sour candy ought to give the little bastard a pretty good stomach ache. Maybe he would learn a lesson. When Ms. Wernecke left the room, as she frequently did, Hope and Jessey crept over to the cage and looked down at the little spotted hairball.

“Here, Spanky, you want some candy boy?” Jessey says this and holds a blue Shock Tart down for the little rodent.

They watch as he took the candy, sniffed it suspiciously, then began to gobble it down. He ate two before the couple rushed to their seats upon hearing Ms. Wernecke’s return. They giggled quietly in their seats as they watched Spanky lick his lips. The next day they walked into class together, shoulder to shoulder, and took their seats. Hope looked over at Jessey, and wished he would just ask her out. They had been friends for a year, and she thought he liked her back, but she wasn’t sure. She didn’t want to look silly if he only liked her as a friend. Her thoughts were interrupted my Ms. Wernecke’s shrieking,

“SPANKY!!!!”

The class turned their attention to Spanky’s cage and Hope and Jessey both gasped and looked to each other when they realized the late Spanky was laying in his cage, little feet in the air. The Shock Tarts had done him in. despite the morbidness of it all, Jessey snickered to himself, promting Hope to do the same. Victory.

He steps back from the truck and proudly holds out the correctly assembled kite for her inspection.

“Success!” she says. “Now let’s hop the fence.”

He watches in awe as she swings one foot up, and in one quick motion flings her slender frame over the five foot fence. She looks up and, noticing his shocked expression, just laughs and shrugs her shoulders. He hands her the kite, puts his own boots in the chain link fence, and scrambles clumsily over. Now both inside the fence, they walk toward the playground of the local elementary school.

“Okay,” he says, “How do we do this?”

“Well, kite virgin,” she says, “First we have to get it up in the air.”

After twenty minutes of running, much trial and error, and several profanities, the kite finally stays up in the sky as Jessey holds the string.

“I’m no good at this,” he grumbles.

He looks over at her, so beautiful without even trying, and reaches out and wraps his free arm around her waist. In one quick motion he pulls her to him and kisses her. This is exactly where he’s wanted to be for the past eight years, and as he sees fireworks, shooting stars, and volcanoes erupting behind closed eyelids, all he can manage to clearly think is,

“Finally.”

He pulls back for a moment and the kite falls. They fly it for a while longer, her more successfully than him. They argue about the skills required to fly a kite until it gets too windy to get the kite off of the ground. They wrap it up and she takes his hand, pulling him with her to the swings. They run over and swing for a while, but quickly tire of it and walk towards the jungle gym. They talk along the way about the days when they themselves attended school here, and the many recesses spent playing tag and jumping rope.

As they reach the jungle gym, she climbs up and sits herself on the platform. Her feet dangle off of the edge, and she watches in amusement as he swings himself effortlessly across the monkey bars. She notices that since joining the army, he was definitely more muscular, and she watches the veins in his arms. Suddenly he swings forwards off the monkey bars and lands next to her on the jungle gym, his boots making a loud thud on the weathered wood. He seats himself next to her and leans back on his hands.

“So, eight years later and here we are.”

 Hope says this with a laugh, and her laughter warms his heart. It always has. She was always the one, the dangerous one. She was dangerous because he could never work up the nerve to ask her out. Though he hated to admit it, he was intimidated by her. She was a star athlete, made straight A’s, was friends with everyone, and had a gorgeous smile. That smile…it made him weak. She was the kindest girl he knew, and when she smiled it lit up her face, her light brown eyes, and the entire room. Yet he could never ask her to a movie.

Sitting in Mrs. Nichol’s English class senior year, he stared at the way her blonde hair fell down her back. She sat directly in front of him, and liked to twirl her pen by her ear when she was daydreaming. When she turned around to talk to him, he could smell her perfume. God, why’d she have to have a boyfriend? She never seemed to be without one. When she was, it was only for a few weeks and he could never work up the courage to make a move. He didn’t know if he could handle being rejected by the girl who he considered to be the prettiest in Joshua. Suddenly she turned to him.

“Hey Jess!”

“What’s up Hope?”

What’s up? What kind of greeting was that? He wasn’t sending her a text message. What an idiot. But she just smiled that bright white smile.

“Not much. You comin’ to the game tonight?”

He had forgotten all about the game. She was the star pitcher on the softball team, and was wearing her royal blue Joshua jersey and shorts.

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Who are y’all playin?”

“Aledo,” she said. “Biggest game of the year! You had best be there cheerin’ for me!”

“Definitely, without a doubt.”

She was flirting with him. She wanted him at her game, and there was no way he would miss out on that. She was gorgeous, but on the softball field she was fierce, one of the best pitchers in the state. She was amazing to watch. He sat there in his desk, trying to work up the courage to ask her on a date, when his thoughts were interrupted by the bell’s shrill ring, dismissing class.

“Bye Jessey, see you at the game tonight.”

“Bye Hope, I’ll be there.”

He watched as she walked quickly across the room in her uniform and blue knee high socks, smiling once over her shoulder at him.

 

“Jessey?”

 She was looking up at him with one eyebrow raised. He’d zoned out for a moment.

 “Sorry!” he says. “Yeah, eight years. Can you believe we’ve even known each other that long?”

 “No,” she said. “Consequences of a small town I guess.”

She looked over at him, watching his feet as he swung them back and forth in the cool night air. He made her smile. He let her feel more alive than she had since the break up, and that was saying something. She knew he was flying back to Germany in the morning, and that being together wasn't sensible right now, but for tonight, she didn’t feel dead inside. And she was going to enjoy it.

Just a month before, she’d been the happiest girl in the world. She was going to a wonderful Christian college and working, and she had the perfect relationship with the perfect boyfriend, Matt. They had been together and broken up in high school, but two years later he had come back to her and apologized for everything, and after much reluctance, they were reunited. They were so perfect together, and she fell for him just as hard as she had the first time. Then out of nowhere, a text message. He shattered her world in a damned text message. She hadn’t been the same since. But being here with Jessey felt right. She didn’t think about how Matt had hurt her or how she had discovered how unfaithful he had been all along. All she thought about was how happy she was to be near Jessey. She felt normal again.

They had maintained contact as friends since graduation, talking on Facebook frequently. They had, after all, been friends since they were just kids. Once the break up with Matt happened, Jessey had listened patiently as Hope told what he had done. She had told him how he felt and he offered words of kindness and understanding. Once she seemed to be cheerier on a daily basis, Jessey decided that he wasn’t waiting another minute and confessed how he felt. He told her he had always liked her but was afraid to ask her out. She had told him that was silly, and they decided that when he came home on leave they should go on a date together. And now here they sat on the jungle gym together.

She looks up and found his blue eyes on her and she smiled at him. He smiled back. He had such a nice smile, and he looked so handsome sitting there. The way the moonbeams hit his cheekbones made him look so alive. He leaned towards her a little bit and they talked about life.

“Do you like the Army?” she asked.

He thought carefully before answering.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do. I like my work and what I do. I just hate being so far from home for such a long time. I grew up in Joshua, it’s strange to be away from it and everyone in it.”

He talked about his duties with the Army in Germany, and she talked about school and work and the crazy customers that she had to deal with every day. And they talk about his tattoos and looked at them all. He then rolled up his sleeve to reveal jet black ink on his forearm, in intricate twists and swirls that spelled out TEXAS. He talked about it as she traced her fingers lightly over the lines of ink, feeling the muscles under his skin.

She had no idea what she was doing to him. They had somehow gotten on the subject of his tattoos, and he tried to focus on making his tongue correctly form the words and force them out of his mouth as her fingers traced over his arm. Her touch was airy and light and electric. It sent hot chills throughout his body, and he knew that she must be able to hear his blood pumping violently through his veins. He never wanted to go back to Germany. He would be completely content staying right here on the playground late at night with this girl forever.

She was tired but she hadn’t felt so awake in ages. She laid back and looked at the stars. There were no lights out here, and they glittered brightly in the black velvet sky. She closed her eyes and stretched her hands out over her head, and before she could move again everything behind her eyelids exploded. When he kissed her, there was no one else. There never had been and there never would be again. There was no Matt, there was no heartache. There was only Jessey. It was 25 degrees but she was warm in his arms. He wrapped her tightly in his arms and pulled her as close to him as he could. He was never letting go. He finally had her and there was no way he would ever lose her again. With every kiss he knew he was losing seconds, and that in just a few hours he would be on a plane. But this was now.

 

Somewhere a car horn blared, and he jolted awake. He looked around and realized he was still on the jungle gym, then looked down at the girl in his arms. They had fallen asleep on the jungle gym, and when he looked at his watch he realized it was almost 4 a.m. He pulled Hope tighter to him and she nestled further into his chest, still asleep. She was so sweet in sleep, her features soft and relaxed. He smiled down at her. The jungle gym was made of old, hard wood and steel, but he had never been as comfortable as he was now. He laid his head back down and closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of her perfume and shampoo. Maybe he wouldn’t get on the plane. Maybe he would stay here in Joshua with her and they could start a life together.

She breathed deeply, dreaming that he was still there. She opened her eyes and saw plaid, and when she blinked again she realized it was his flannel shirt. He was still there. She looked up at him and found his sleepy, blue gaze on her. She just smiled. She didn’t know why he stared, but she didn’t mind.

“Do you really have to leave tomorrow?”

He sighed loudly. He was thinking the same thing, willing it to be untrue.

“Yes,” he said. “Although technically I leave in….4 hours.”

She breathed a sigh into his shirt, and he tightened his arms around her, willing time to stop. After lying that way for another hour, they finally managed to make their way back to the truck so he could take her home.

The drive to her house was short, and in her driveway she couldn’t make herself let go. She loved him. As she thought the words in her head, she knew them to be true. She loved him, and she knew she had to say something. But the words wouldn’t come. Her voice failed her and she stood there silently in his arms in her driveway. He was leaving and she was powerless to stop him. He pulled back and kissed her one last time, but this kiss was different. This one tasted like goodbye, bittersweet on her lips. When they finally parted her eyes stung with tears but she fought them back and went inside and shut the door.

He watched her go. The icy breeze pulled at her hair and he had a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once. Maybe he should propose. Maybe she could come to Germany with him. Maybe she could study abroad in Germany and they could live together. He knew they were all absurd, but he was desperate. She was in the house, the door was shut, but he couldn’t leave her driveway. His old, brown cowboy boots didn’t move from their spot on the concrete. He couldn’t breathe thanks to the invisible hole in his chest. She was gone….. But then her front door opened.

She had almost expected him to be gone when she opened the door again. But there he stood, right where she’d left him. She left the door open and ran back outside, falling back into his arms for one last hug.

“Bye Jessey.”

Her words were muffled in his shirt, but she didn’t care. She clung tightly to him.

“Bye Hope.”

He said this into her golden hair and kissed the top of her head. He kissed her one more time before she went into the house, and he spun on his heels and headed for his truck. This wasn’t over. He knew she would be at that airport in a few hours. He knew that goodbye would be a thousand times harder than the one they had just endured. But this wasn’t over. He would marry that girl someday.

What A Life (March 21 Workshop)

***I decided that I would try something a little different with rotating points of view....my main concern is that the story is not too confusing for the reader***

What A Life

“You’re in the army now, and not behind the plow. You’ll never get rich, diggin a ditch…..” he trails off his song, and a little voice finishes for him, “You’re in tha army noooow!” The little girl seated in the wheelbarrow claps her hands and laughs, and pleads, “Again, Papa, again!” He just laughs, spits some tobacco juice on the sidewalk, and clears his throat to sing some more for his 4 year old granddaughter as he pushes her towards the house in his rusty old wheelbarrow. He can’t help but smile as he sings, she’s just so cute. She’s a little thing with golden blonde hair and brown eyes, and she’s covered head to toe in dirt. Martha wasn’t going to be happy about that, and he knows his daughter’s accusatory eyes will immediately fall on him when she sees her own daughter, who is now the epitome of a mess. But you just couldn’t keep the child out of the garden. She is her Papa’s little helper, and for such a little thing she was a mighty big help out there.

They reach the house at last, and he says “Awright, sugarboog, let’s get inside and get some supper.” “Okay, Papa,” she says as she scrambles out of the wheelbarrow, barefoot as the day she was born. He bends down to her level, reaches behind her ear, and pulls out a beer bottlecap. She squeals with delight and takes the bottlecap in her dirty little hand. She’ll keep it for weeks, asking him over and over to make it disappear and magically reappear. She rushes inside the house, trailing dirt from her filthy little feet, and runs into the kitchen where her mother and grandmother are making dinner. “Mama, Mama, we got all tha onyuns planted taday!!!” Her mother turns around and smiles at her, but her smile quickly disappears when she gets a good look at her daughter. “Heather Breann! What in the world?! How on earth did you manage to get so filthy?” Her grandmother laughs quietly to herself and turns back to the stove, saying  “Aww Martha, you knew that’s what she would look like. She’s been out in the garden with Wesley for goodness sake, what else would you expect?” Heather just stands there smiling, obviously proud of her day of work in the garden and as always, oblivious to her mother’s irritation.

Her grandfather ambles into the kitchen to join the family. He looks at his daughter and says, “Marti-Pooooo, how do you doooo?” Martha looks up at him with a look of annoyance, but when he crosses his eyes and smiles she just laughs out loud and lets it go. “Daddy-Ooooo, how does it goooo?” That was their greeting, and always had been. Wesley goes over to his wife, who is still at the stove, and has a look at what is in her skillet. “Whoooo, sure smells good Rosa Lee!” “Well don’t you touch it Wesley. It’s not done yet and you haven’t washed them dirty ol’ paws of yours.” He pulls his hand back as if offended, and shoots a hurt look towards Heather, who giggles at the scene. “But Rosa Lee, me and the sugarboog have been out in the garden all day. I’m hungry.” After being married for 42 years this wasn’t about to faze her, and as she turns over the chicken fried steaks she simply says, “Well, you’ll just have to wait. Now go clean up and take Heather with you. You both need it.” She smiles down at her little granddaughter, and as soon as Wesley looks away slips her a small bite of chicken fried steak. That was their way, their own little secret, every time she made chicken fried steak. With those big brown eyes looking up at her, how could she say no?

There’s a cry from the other room, and Martha gets up to go check on Heather’s one year old sister Hailey. As her Papa heads towards the bathroom, Heather is right on his heels, mouth full of Maw’s chicken fried steak. In the bathroom, he fills the sink full of water and sits her on the counter. She puts her feet in the sink, as usual, and he gives her a damp washcloth. “Well sugarboog, looks like we gotta clean up before we get our chow.” He goes to work on his own face and hands while she uses the washcloth to clean herself up. She likes that Papa lets her do things herself, and she studies him in the mirror as he cleans up. He’s a big man, a marine, standing at 6’4” with broad shoulders. Despite his intimidating stature, he is gentle as can be. He has tan skin that looks like leather from a lifetime of hard work in the sun, and eyes bluer than any skies could hope to be. Sometimes Heather envied his eyes. Hers were just plain old brown. But she supposed, in her four year old logic, that her eyes couldn’t possibly be as blue as Papa’s. They were part of what made him so special. After determining herself to be clean, she decides to help her Papa finish cleaning up. She finds a hair brush and stands on the counter. She removes his worn out baseball cap and begins brushing his hair. Even standing on the bathroom counter, Wesley towers over her. But he just bends down a little so she can reach and tells her what a good job she's doing.

Once they are somewhat presentable, he sets her back on the tile floor and they  to the kitchen where supper is waiting. She sits at the old, water-stained table and waits for her mother to bring her plate. She watches her grandma finish things up, and takes everything in. She thinks her maw has to be the prettiest grandma in the whole world, with her white blonde hair always perfect styled into a bubble, fair skin, and soft blue-green eyes. She always smelled clean, like soap and powder. There was always time to braid Heather’s fair blonde hair and tie the braids off with whatever breadbag ties Heather had managed to find, and she made the best food in the whole world. She is a quick-witted woman, 9 years Wesley’s junior, and she always brought Heather and Hailey candy from the drug store where she worked.

At the dinner table, Heather looks at her plate. There is chicken fried steak, which she is eating, and mashed potatoes, which are good. But as for the pile of carrots, they remain untouched. She hates carrots. They are soggy and taste funny, even though her momma cooks them with butter and brown sugar. As she sits up on her knees, struggling to see her what's on the tall table, she pushes the carrots around on her plate. Her Papa, who is dousing his own food in Tabasco sauce, notices this. He smiles a mischievous grin and says, “You know sugarboog, if you eat them carrots, they are sure good for you. Make your eyes turn blue.” Heather’s eyes widen at this idea. “Really Papa?” “Well sure. How do you think mine got so blue?” She ponders this in her four-year-old mind for a moment, and then decides that this makes sense. His eyes were awful blue. He laughs quietly to himself as his granddaughter begins shoveling carrots into her mouth. After dinner the whole family gathers in the living room to watch a movie. Heather sits on her Papa’s lap, doing her best to sit still and watch the movie. Papa scratches her back, and the longer she sits there the drowsier and drowsier she gets. Papa always smells of tobacco and rich earth, and his smell comforts her. As her eyelids grow heavier she drifts off to sleep on her Papa’s lap with him scratching her back.

9 years later, Heather jumps out of the car and runs into her grandparents’ house. “Maw, Papa! We won, we won!” She proudly sits the trophy on the coffee table, proud of her first place victory. She is still in her black and orange softball uniform, covered in red dirt and chalk. The child had never been able to stay clean for very long, not even at 13. Her grandparents smile at her excitement, and her Papa says, “Bring it here and let me see, sugarboog.”  She picks it back up and sits on the arm of his chair. She long ago got too big for his lap. She had just had a growth spurt in the last year and grown over 4 inches. She was slender and lanky and one of the best young pitchers in all of North Texas. She was quickly gaining recognition as she struck out countless girls who were much older.  Her grandma came to many of her tournaments, and would stay as long as she could before the heat forced a retreat. She sat in the stands and cheered for only Heather, marking down a tally mark for each strike out on a small scrap of paper. At the end of the day, she would proudly show everyone in the park  a piece of paper covered in tally marks, and explain that each was a strike out and this clearly made her granddaughter the best.

She smiles widely at her Maw in her excitement, revealing a mouthful of braces. Her hair is pulled back into a now messy French braid, and she leaves Papa’s chair and goes to show the trophy to her grandma. She has freckles spread out across her nose and shoulders from the sun, as well as a farmer’s tan from being in the sun wearing a jersey so often. Her dad comes through the door, looking more exhausted than his daughter, but still excited. “Hey there Wes, Rosa Lee.” Both look over their shoulders at him, and Rosa Lee says, “Well hey there, Ron. You’ve got a very excited girl over here.” He just laughs, shakes her Papa’s hand, and collapses on the old, worn out couch.

Despite the toll the heat took on the body, her dad was at every game, coaching and cheering her on. He is not a tall man at only 5’11”, but is solidly built and has the same brown eyes as his daughter. He is sunburned, the area around his eyes whiter than the rest of his red face from where his sunglasses had sat all weekend. They recap on the entire tournament and Heather excitedly tells them how many girls she struck out. Eventually an entire day in the Texas heat catches up with her, and when the adults notice her silence, they look over and realize that she has fallen asleep on the couch in her knee high socks. Half conscious, she can still hear them recapping on the highlights of her weekend, and she smiles before falling into a deep sleep.

“I can’t wait for you to meet them!” she says. A now 17 year old Heather climbs out of the silver Tahoe and meets her boyfriend as he walks to the front of the truck and takes her hand in his. “You will love them both babe, I promise.” She plants a kiss on Matt’s lips before pulling him with her towards her grandparents’ house. They walk through the screen door and are greeted by the smell of chicken fried steak coming from the kitchen. She still loves this place, not much has changed since she was a child. Still two recliners and a couch in the living room, same old brown tile in the kitchen, the same feeling of home.  She pulls Matt in after her, anxious for the boy she loves to meet her two favorite people. She pulls him in front of her grandpa, who hasn’t heard him come in. His hearing is poor and he is wearing special headphones to help him hear his western on TV.

“Hi, Papa.” He looks up at her with those blue eyes and smiles that smile that lights up his whole face. “Hey there sugarboog! Who is this?” She pulls Matt up next to her, and presents the handsome green-eyed boy to her grandfather. “Papa, this is Matt.” She speaks loudly so he can hear her clearly, as she had told Matt to do on the car ride over. Matt steps forward and offers his hand, which Wesley takes in his own huge hand and shakes with enthusiasm. “Nice to meet you sir.” Matt is shyer than everyone else in the house, but seems to loosen up some when her Papa says, “Nice to meet you too son! How’re you.” They strike up a conversation about Matt’s position on the golf team and Heather goes to the kitchen to find her grandmother.

“Hi Maw.” She walks into the kitchen to find her grandmother sitting on a stool at the stove, iron skillet in hand, chicken fried steak in the bottom. “Hey there Heather.” She walks over to the stove next to her grandmother, who hands her a hot piece of chicken fried steak without hesitation. “Is the boy in there?” she asks. “Yeah, he’s talkin to Papa.” Rosa Lee laughs and says, “Well, he’s got a new friend. You’ll never get him back now! He’ll start with the card tricks soon.” They both laugh because it’s the truth, but Heather wouldn’t change a thing about it. This was Matt’s test. He has to get along with her Papa.

She walks into the living room with Maw and introduces her briefly to Matt, who smiles his most charming smile. He watches intently as her Papa shows him card trick after card trick, and he takes Heather’s hand in his and pulls her to him. Her grandma observes from a distance, studying the blonde girl who now stands before her. She’s grown up so fast. She is tall and slender, but not in the same lanky way as she had been when she was 13. She has filled out and put on muscle, giving her an athletic figure. The braces are gone, leaving a perfect white smile in their place. Her blonde hair is cut into long, soft layers around her face and she is wearing blue jeans and a t shirt. She was one of the most promising pitchers in the state, leading all the statistics and on the radar of many college scouts. Although often still dirty after softball practice, she cleaned up well and had grown into a beautiful young woman.

The only part of her that hasn’t changed from her childhood is her light brown eyes, still as full of life and mischief as ever. But there is something new in them as well: love. She can see love written all over her granddaughter’s face, and she fears for her just a little bit. She’s glad for her, for she could see how happy this boy obviously makes her, and he is certainly handsome. It’s clear he loves her too, for when he looks at her you can see that in his eyes, she may as well have hung the moon. But she worries that her fragile heart will get broken. She doesn’t know if she could stand seeing her little granddaughter in that kind of pain.

Suddenly, the rest of Heather’s family arrives. Her mother and two sisters, 14 year old Hailey and 10 year old Hannah enter the house and greet Matt as well. They all sit down to dinner, which is followed by a night of dominos and magic tricks. As she sits and watches Matt try to figure out her Papa’s coin riddles, she feels this surge in her chest. She’s never been so happy. She loves her family, this house, and this boy. What more could a girl ask for. “Babe, I need help.” Matt is looking at her with pleading eyes, unable to solve the riddle in front of him. She reaches over him and quickly moves the coins on the table to the desired pattern, as she has solved this riddle and seen her Papa show countless guests. Matt is stunned by this and scratches his head in confusion, then says, “Okay I think I’ve got it now. Let’s set it up again.” Her Papa bellows a laugh, enjoying the looks of determination on Matt’s face. He loved to stump people. It’s card tricks and riddles all night, and Heather just smiles all the while, thinking, “what a life.”

Years later, her boots crunch on the white gravel of her grandparents' driveway as she walks from her car to their house. Most 20 year old college students might not see their grandparents on a daily basis, but every day this is where she comes after class. She will eat lunch with them in the living room and then head to work. She opens the screen door and steps inside. Both grandparents look over their shoulders and greet her excitedly from their recliners, as if it's a shock that she's stopped by. She sits down on the couch, the weight of her life riding heavily and visibly on her shoulders. As she tells her grandparents about her day so far, her grandmother studies her, as she's always done. She's so proud of the girl, no, the woman, who sits on the worn gray couch. She turned down all of her softball scholarships in high school to take an academic scholarship to a small christian college. She works hard at school and at her job at the local Sherwin Williams paint store. And she works hard to overcome the stress of it all, as well as the pain of what that boy had done.

As RosaLee listens to her granddaughter, she can see that today was a bad day. She is thinking of him and it is obviously weighing heavily on her heart. What Matt had done to her just months ago, after all the years they spent together, was unspeakable. She had watched Heather suffer, listened to Martha's reports that she wasn't eating and was barely sleeping in the weeks after it happened. She had grown stronger recently, smiling most days and putting her all into her schoolwork. But she had bad days, and she knew that this was one. In a matter of minutes, Heather would tell about what news had been passed down to her about him from someone in her small town, what song on the radio had broken her heart, or what truck she had passed on the road that had reminded her of him. Her grandmother would listen intently, then offer words of wisdom that could only come from years of age, experience, and love.

When he comes up, Heather's throat burns as she speaks his name. The word "Matt" tastes like venom on her tongue, but she knows that her grandmother will listen without judgement. If anyone understood her, it was Maw. She knows that what she feels can't be fixed, but that when she's here she can talk. And after the talking is done, there will be Gunsmoke to watch with Papa or, if he's gotten his hands on a Time magazine, a picture puzzle to be done. There is no miracle cure for a broken heart, but if anything can ease the pain, it's being right here.