Accepting Cherry

by Chrissy Snyder

  “You want me to strip?” I’m shocked and scandalized, but the thought sticks in my head. I could pretend to be someone else, become a different character, sort of like I do when I’m reading. The idea intrigues me, but I need to think about it and let my mind churn it over.

  “I’ll have to let you know.” I haven’t been getting very many extra shifts lately and I really need the money, so the idea of it is really making me think. He nods at me while I refocus to move on to my other tables, ensuring everyone gets what they need before my memories come rolling back in. I can’t seem to escape them. They seep into my thoughts all the time.

  There is one in particular that I can’t get my mind off of. It was that time period I was watching Mama sell item after item and still we didn’t have enough money. Mama had even sold Daddy’s car, muttering that she didn’t have anything left of her previous life except for me, and I’m pretty sure I wasn’t good enough anymore, not at that point. It wasn’t long after daddy died that the bank stepped in and took the house. We had packed up what was left of our place and moved into a mobile home.

  I remember the day we moved in like it was yesterday. Mama had been so stuck on buying that big house in a good neighborhood and here we were, moving into a tiny mobile home on a dusty dried up piece of land on the wrong side of the tracks. She spent the entire day with her lips in a thin line, muttering under her breath about needing more good neighborhoods. I remember being pretty upset with the fact that I no longer had my own bedroom. I was a little girl desperate for privacy, but little did I know that was the least of my worries.

  The trailer only had two rooms. Mama got one and Grams got the other. I was left to sleep in the living room on the lumpy, musty-smelling couch. No more bedroom all to myself, where I could lie on my bed underneath my canopy and dream of becoming Mrs. Prince Charming. Instead, I was stuck with no privacy in a living room that smelled strongly of mildew. I think the hardest thing was that I became invisible to the adults around me. Mama and Grams were too busy or too tired to take any notice of me. I lost Daddy physically, but Mama was gone emotionally? I hadn’t even bothered to tell Mama when I got my first period, knowing it would be just one more nuisance for her to deal with. Part of me had been so excited that I was growing up, and the other part of me just wished I could stay a little girl forever.

  I shake my head to rid it of all these thoughts. Thinking about my past just depresses me and confirms how truly alone I really am. This job keeps me really busy, time going by quickly. I’m successful at keeping my thoughts away from my past when I’m occupied, at least for now. There are benefits to being busy.

  My feet are aching and I’m desperate to pull my shoes off and soak them, but that will have to wait. I want to head to the library and take out a bunch of books. My love for reading began way back when I was attending Porter Elementary. I remember holding my very first chapter book in my hand and smelling the pages. I would run my hands over the glossy book cover and smile at the cover photos. I even remember the first book I read. I realized quickly I could lose myself in a book and become any character. I’d escape and become a private detective from one of my favored mystery authors, or become a long lost princess finding love in all the wrong places from a romance author.

  I’ve always loved the smell and feel of a real book, but a part of me would also love a Kindle with all the bells and whistles. As much as I want it, though, I can’t afford a tablet or even a cell phone right now, so I can’t read books electronically unless I can download them for free and read them at the library. As soon as I make a bit more money that’s the first thing I’m buying: a Kindle.

  It’s always been my dream to have a room full of books, sitting idly on the shelves, and signed by the special writers that wrote them, but that costs money. Money in excess is something that I don’t have. For now, I have to sign them out the old fashioned way. The librarian, Mrs. Arnold, is a sweet lady. She issued me a library card without payment the first time I wandered in. The only stipulation was that I have to make sure to return the books on time, and I always do. In fact, I end up at the library several times a month.

  I shake my head to rid myself of all these thoughts and get back to the task at hand. The morning rush is almost over, and that’s usually when I take the time to refill all of the salt and pepper shakers, along with ensuring the condiments are full and the diner is clean. I hum softly under my breath as I wipe down the tables and chairs, ensuring there aren’t any sticky fingerprints anywhere to be found. I look around with a small smile and tell myself how blessed I am. I love my job. It may not be much but it keeps me off the streets. Things could be so much worse than they are. Despite all the negatives, I’ve met several good and kind people who have been more than willing to lend a hand, and not one of them requires something from me in return. It’s a new concept for me, one that I’m finding difficult to adapt to, because all my memories are of people expecting things from me or using me for what I could do for them.

  I blow out a soft breath and head into the back room, grabbing the basket of cleaning supplies. I walk into the women’s bathroom and do a quick walk through, ensuring that all the toilets are flushed and clean for new customers. I spray some bleach into each bowl and into the sinks, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves before I get to the “dirty” work. Mr. Roland is big on cleanliness. I like that, because I’ve lived in a place that was the total opposite. I work quickly, yet efficiently, and have cleaned four out of the five stalls when a young woman enters with a little girl. The child is holding onto her mom’s hand with one and has her other hand between her legs while she bounces on her legs singing, “I have to peeeeee.” I smile at them, giving the mom the confirmation of her mental question from the look on her face. “It’s ok, they’re clean and ready to use.”

  “Ok sweetheart, let mommy help you and then you can pee.” I hear her voice softly to her daughter.

  “Ok, Mommy, ‘cause I’m a big girl, right?” She has the sweetest voice with a tiny lisp. She’s absolutely adorable with her rosy cheeks and big blue eyes.

  “Yes, Tish. You’re a big girl, but don’t grow up too quick on Mommy. I want to love on you and snuggle with you while you still like to snuggle with me.” There goes my heart with its pinching and tightening in my chest. This makes me remember a specific, similar conversation I had with Mama about growing up, but I had certainly not been given any patience like that lady just gave her daughter.

  “Charisa,” Mama had scolded at the time. “I really do think it’s time for you to grow up and smarten up.” I knew Mama was exasperated with me, but she didn’t stop there. “You need to stop losing your head in the clouds, in make believe, and in your silly stories,” she said while shaking her finger in my face. I remember the look on her face when I answered her.

  “But Mama,” I said in confusion. “I’m only 12. I don’t want to grow up too fast. Grownups have too many problems. Besides, I don’t play make-believe anymore, at least not since Daddy died.” At the mention of Daddy, Mama’s face first went really white and then beet red in the matter of a second. Her mouth looked like she had sucked on something really sour. I knew I had upset her again and I could see that she was thinking about what she wanted to say to me, and I didn’t have long to wait.

  “You know I don’t like it when you talk about Daddy,” she said. “You keep waiting on some Prince Charming, but there is no such man. You saw for yourself how your father let us down. It’s better to hear all of this from me than for you to try to figure it out the hard way.” It devastated me; the way she talked about Daddy. I lost Daddy, but I lost Mama too. She was there in person, but she wasn’t really there for me.

  The flushing of the toilet brings me back to the present and I smile again as I hear the little girl singing the alphabet as they wash their hands.

  “Good job, sweetheart! If you sing the whole alphabet then you know your hands are nice and clean. Ready to get back to Daddy?”

  “Oh yes, Mommy,” s
he says; only it sounds like yeth. The bathroom door opens as they leave and I’m once again left on my own to finish cleaning. It doesn’t take me long to finish with the sinks and the mirrors, giving them a sparkle. All of the trashcans have been emptied and the soap, toilet paper, and paper towels have all been refilled. The floor will get swept and mopped at closing. I return all the cleaning supplies into the back room and take a look at the clock, surprised to find that my shift is already over, and if I don’t hurry I won’t make the bus on time. I really don’t want to miss the bus.

  “Goodnight,” I call out while untying my apron and heading into my room, which is off the kitchen. I hang my apron on the hook behind my door and grab my backpack, before running to the bus stop so I can make it to the library before dark. I don’t have to wait, because I make it to the bus in just enough time to get on. I pull myself up the steep steps and look around for an empty seat as I insert the bill for the ride. I find an open seat near the back and nearly moan in relief as I sit down, throwing my bag on the seat beside me. The warm sun is shining in the window and I love the feel of the warmth against my face, so I lean my face against the glass. My intent is to close my eyes for just a few minutes.

  Someone’s ringing cellphone startles me, pulling me from my nap at just the right time, because I’ve almost missed my stop. I hurry to grab my backpack and exit the bus into the warm, late afternoon air. I step onto the sidewalk and tilt my face up toward the sun, enjoying the warmth on my face. I stand like this for a minute, just enjoying the beautiful afternoon and the smell of the warm air. I start the short walk to the library, which is only about a block away from the bus stop.

  I open the doors of the library and the smell hits me first, like it always does. I breathe in deep, inhaling the scent of leather-bound books and paper, letting the tensions of the last few weeks leave my shoulders.

  “Hi, dear,” Mrs. Arnold says quietly. “It’s so good to see you again. Back for more books I see,” she finishes with a smile.

  “Hi, Mrs. Arnold,” I answer with a big grin. “You know me. I can’t stay away from them.” I watch as she shakes her head at me, but she’s smiling the entire time.

  “You know, you always remind me of Belle the way you love books… It’s one of my grand-daughters’ favorite movies.” Her reference to a princess makes me smile bigger. It’s been so long since I’ve heard about them. I remember curling up with Daddy in his chair while he would read story after story about my princesses.

  “It’s funny you say that, Ms. Arnold, because I used to love the Disney Princesses and wanted to be one when I grew up.” I laugh as I say this, because now, as an adult I realize that real life isn’t all rainbows and happy endings.

  “Which one was your favorite, if someone had asked you to choose?” She’s looking at me with a quizzical look on her face and it appears as if she is truly interested in hearing my response. I wonder if my answer will tell her something about myself, almost like a psychic reading. I mentally smack my head and smile at Mrs. Arnold while I try to come up with a response.

  “You know, I think I would have to go with Belle. For one, she had a love of books and reading as I do. Secondly, she fell in love with the man inside, not the beast on the outside. That takes a courageous woman.”

  Mrs. Arnold looks at me with a keen eye and I can see that she has more questions for me, but I feel like I’ve shared enough for now and clamor to get away from her without seeming too rude.

  “I’m terribly sorry to cut our conversation short, but I have a bus to catch and I really don’t want to be on the bus after dark.” I look at her and hope she understands. I smile in relief when she nods her head at me while saying, “Of course, dear. Don’t let me keep you. It’s dangerous for a pretty young girl like yourself to be out in the dark, and we can’t have that.” With those words she shoos me along with a little wave of her hands. I give her a quick thank you and hurry to the section I need, eager to find my next read.

  Prior to getting a room with Mr. Roland I had been hiding out in the library, but only for a few days. I didn’t want to take advantage of Mrs. Arnold’s kindness. She knew something terrible had happened, but she never asked and never pushed for information. Every so often she would stroke my hair or squeeze my shoulder in a motherly way, and every time she did that I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from having a complete and utter breakdown. I can’t afford to let my emotions control me. Life has let me down and I’m not about to put myself in that position again.

  I walk up and down the aisles, trailing my fingers along the spines of the books, waiting to see if any titles jump out at me. I see a book about cheer squads and that makes me think back to when I was happily signed up to not only cheer, but dance and gymnastics as well. Oh how I had loved being with my friends. I didn’t just enjoy the social aspect, but the outfits were so cute and to die for. Just like everything else, one by one I was forced to let go of my activities as well, severing any ties I had left with my girlfriends. I begged Mama to let me keep at least one activity, but she hushed me and called me ungrateful.

  That year had been especially bad. As if I hadn’t experienced enough heartache and misery, Grams got really sick that year with pneumonia. It was like the experience with Daddy all over again; only with Grams I knew exactly what was happening, no questions asked. She improved and got better for a while, but then she became very weak and frail, before she finally gave up the fight. She was the only person left who offered me a loving touch. I sobbed for weeks after we lost Grams, in denial of all my misery. I felt like it was the final nail in my coffin, but boy was I wrong.

  I halt when one of the books sparks my interest, and remove it from the shelf to read the back. Halfway through the summary I feel as if someone is watching me. All the tiny hairs on the back of my neck are standing at attention, so I lift my head to take a look around, but I don’t see anything out of the ordinary. Must just be me being paranoid. I shrug my shoulders and go back to reading. I finally find what I want, so I gather up my five literary gems and head to the desk to sign them out. I only have about ten minutes before I need to catch the bus to return to the diner.

  “Did you find what you were looking for, dear?” Mrs. Arnold asks me with her sweet smile.

  “Yes Ma’am,” I tell her, holding them up for her to see. “These should keep me busy, at least for the next few days.” I watch as she carefully logs each book in an old fashioned ledger. The library is hooked up to a computer system, and Mrs. Arnold uses it, but she also likes to make notations in her ledger as a back up.

  I carefully put all the books into my backpack and throw it on my shoulders, calling out a goodbye as I head for the doors. I make it outside with enough time to catch the bus back to the diner. The twenty-minute ride passes quickly, because I’m engrossed in reading and lost in another world. When I read a book it’s as if a movie reel plays in my head and the characters come to life. I become the characters and I’m living their lives. I can let my fantasies run wild and become anyone I want to: a rock star, warrior woman, or even one of my favored Princesses.

  Once I arrive at the diner I let myself in the back door and make sure to lock up behind me. The first few days I was here were really difficult and lonely, because I was scared of the dark, and every little sound had me shivering in fear. Now, I’m used the sounds of the building, and also Mr. Roland helped me by providing a night-light and an extra lock on the door to my room.

  I’m eager to provide some ease for my feet, so I hurry to grab a large bowl and fill it with hot water so I can soak my tired and aching feet. Plus, it’s the next best thing to a bath. It’s been so long since I’ve had something as simple as a shower or a soak in a tub. Placing the bowl in front of my bed, I dip my feet inside and sigh as the water encompasses them. It warms my body and causes the weariness to slowly leave me. I know it will be back tomorrow, and the bad thing about being so physically fatigued is that the night usually passes quickly. If only I could remain stress f
ree for more than a few hours in a state of unconsciousness.

  Unfortunately for me, it never happens.

  Chapter Eight

  Sawyer

  My day starts bright and early with the alarm buzzing repeatedly until I finally stir and slap my hand down on the “off” button. I’m exhausted because I was up all night studying. I’m in my last year of college, and when everything is all said and done I’ll be a Chartered Accountant with a Bachelor in Business. I’m stoked.

  I sit up in bed, still half asleep, and hold my head in my hands waiting for my brain to catch up with my body in waking up. I have a full day of classes today and then I need to head to the library to study so I can be fully prepared for my upcoming exams. I don’t have much time before I have to leave, so I force myself out of bed and head to the shower, scratching my ass on the way. I have my own house and I love it. I worked really closely with the architect and the design is mostly mine.

  Architecture has been a hobby of mine for years and I love it. Besides, I wasn’t interested in the whole dorm experience. Like any other guy I enjoyed the parties, but after a while one party is like the next and that’s not my scene anymore. I’m thankful that my parents had started a trust for me after my birth so I’m financially well off and able to just focus on school.

  I flip the seat up and take a piss, moaning aloud at the relief I feel to empty my full bladder. I flush and automatically reach forward to put the seat down but stop. Fuck it, it’s my house, and if I want to leave the damn seat up then I will. Mandy can suck my dick if she doesn’t like it.

  Something has been going on with Mandy and I’m beginning to have doubts. It’s as if she’s hiding something, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. Her cell phone is constantly on silent and face down. Every time it goes off, she gets jumpy and runs to check it. When I ask her about it she stammers on her words.