paper rings (l.h.)

3

Once our day was over, our replacements had clocked in and we're all settled, Luke and I found ourselves leaving the store at the same time. I slung my bag over my shoulders as he held the door open for me, and I thanked him kindly.

"You never told me where you were from," Luke says before I get a chance to make my escape.

I walk to my bike, still chained up to the post from where I had left it this morning. The bread, honey and miscellaneous items I had picked up from the farmer's market laid in the basket they had sat in this morning, after I had tucked them away in the break room during my shift. I finger the combination into the lock, looking over at the boy who realizes exactly what I'm doing. "I'm from Missouri," I turn to him as I tuck my cellphone into the bag of groceries I had purchased today.

I was sure I looked silly, riding a yellow bike and a basket rusted and painted over and over again just this summer alone. Luke didn't look at me as if I was, and if he was thinking I looked silly he didn't show it. He nods, watching my black converse meet the pedal as I lean my body weight onto the other foot. "I've been there a few times."

"Yeah?" I smile warmly, the first smile that he received which didn't feel forced. I tuck my black hair behind my ear as it falls off of my shoulder in the breeze. The top of my head felt like it was burning since the hot southern sun was beating down on top of it. "I'm from a small town near Kansas City."

"So..." he raises his eyebrow. "Why here?"

No one had asked me that since I had arrived, at least no one who I told the truth to. To my Grandma's friends and old relatives, I would say I needed a change in scenery. My Grandma was hesitant to the fact that she was older now, and shouldn't be living by herself anymore. She had fallen earlier last winter. My Mother flew out for a week with her siblings to help her back on her feet. But she wasn't the same after she healed, at least that's what my Mother said. My Grandma was too prideful to allow herself to be checked into a retirement facility, and was too hostile with the home nurses her doctor would send over. My Mother and her had decided since this was a great in between, send me over and she kept her independence. I didn't mind either, because I had nothing left back home besides a childhood bedroom I was likely never going to escape from and painful memories on every other block. I needed some newness and my Grandma helped me receive some.

"I like the quiet," I say simply, looking at him up and down as he approaches me. "You've been up there. You know what I mean."

He smiles as he reaches up to adjust the strands of long, curly hair that falls in his eyes. A bit of shine in his hair tells me had tried to style it out of his face this morning, but as we stand in the sun, it melts. I felt myself melting, too. "It's hot," he begins, nodding towards a car parked directly across the street from the shop. "Can I give you a ride?"

"That's alright," I shake my head, looking down at the basket in front of me. "I have a few places I need to go before I head home."

"It's really no bother," Luke continues, I hear a bit of disappointment in his voice when he watches me begin to pedal off.

"Maybe some other time," I turn back at him, waving before I am forced to turn to face the way I am riding. I watched as he turned off, towards what I thought was his car before I turned the corner and he was gone.

I rode straight home, and ran inside after placing my bicycle neatly against the house. I ran inside with my products from earlier, my Grandmother sitting with the television blaring her baseball game.

"Mary?" She calls out.

"I'm home," I walk over to her, a little out of breath from the journey. Beads of sweat fell down the sides of my face as my Grandma's eyes find me sitting on the chair that used to belong to my Grandfather. "I got the honey you wanted. Joe says hello, by the way."

"That's kind of him," she nods. "Is it hot outside?"

"A little," I nod. "But it's summer, so."

A pause between our conversation brings my Grandma's attention back to the television. I place my hands on my knees. "Is everything alright?" I ask, reaching forward to put the back of my hand on her forehead. That's another reason why I was sent here, my family knew I was the most empathetic out of the bunch they had produced. It would only make sense to send me down here. That, and the fact that I joyfully agreed to the idea of leaving.

My Grandma pauses, taking a soft breath right as the first pitch is about to be thrown. "I'm sorry about what your Father did to you."

I feel my stomach flip. I hadn't expecting this to come up down here, nonetheless anyone knowing about it besides me and my Mom. It had been decades, I had moved on a long while ago. But her bringing it up, after all this time...

"Me, too."

I think she could tell that it had sent me somewhere unpleasant after she brought it up. I could feel my stomach begin to flip at the idea of someone else knowing about it. I had known it had happened, I remember so vividly. I remember not understanding much, but knowing that it was something that I should only talk to my Mom about. I didn't think about the possibility that she told someone else. I feel the TV grow quiet, the voices slow down. My eyes shift from her, to her stained shaggy carpet beneath our feet. She reaches out to grab my hand.

"I brewed some tea for you, on the stove," she continues. "I thought you'd might like some."

"Thank you, Grandma," I smile gently as I lean over to press my lips to her forehead.

I walk off silently, pouring myself a cup of the tea prepared for me while beginning to prep the microwave meal my Grandma would rather have instead of my cooking.