Reason Is You (9781101576151)

by Lovelace, Sharla

  I knew where I was going when I left, and it was the opposite direction from home. Within minutes, I wound through the neatly graveled figure eights, eventually landing at the end of a small rise. I got out and walked back two rows to the pinkish gray granite stone that sported my mother’s name and date of death. April 16, 1970. The day I was born.

  My dad never let it be that way. Never once was my birthday anything other than my birthday. I only knew that my mother lived in the cemetery instead of at the house with us, and we kept flowers there for her and frequently went through the scrapbook she made when she was pregnant. I was six when I really noticed the date, and my dad explained it casually as being insignificant because she was just happy she got to see and hold me there at home where I was born, before God took her to heaven.

  I never wondered if I killed her.

  I did wonder why she never came around to tell me that herself. A million other people felt the need to tell me their postmortem thoughts.

  “But not you, huh, Mom?” Nope. Never her. I took a deep breath. “We need you—me and Riley.”

  It felt awkward to say that, having never known her or had any kind of relationship with her. I always visited, always talked to her about what I was doing as if she couldn’t possibly know otherwise. But I never asked for anything. Not even advice. Not even back then when I really needed a mom. I didn’t know how to have one.

  “I’m back in this messed-up place again, and—” I blew out a frustrated breath. “You didn’t—or couldn’t—keep them off me, but I’m begging you. If you have any pull whatsoever. Please keep them off Riley.” My voice choked. “She doesn’t deserve this. She didn’t ask for this.”

  My eyes burned with tears, and the back of my neck prickled. Not like with Alex, which always felt like electric current, but just enough to make me react. I turned to see a redheaded older lady approach. She wore a lemon yellow pantsuit and carried a large orange purse that matched her orange shoes. How unfortunate to spend eternity in such an awful wardrobe choice. But, hey, when she put it all on, she probably didn’t realize there wouldn’t be a do-over.

  I swiped at my eyes and smiled, looking back at the stone where the silk daisies appeared to morph from the top. That hadn’t changed. For forty years, my dad kept her favorite flowers on her grave. He never let them fade. He changed them out before they could.

  “Nadine Danielle Shane,” the lady read as she stood next to me. She jutted her head that way as she turned to speak to me. “That your momma, there?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She nodded and squinted at the date. “Gone a long time. You aren’t old enough to have had too much of her.”

  “None.”

  She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Shame. Damn shame. Your daddy raise you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s all I had.”

  Her head swiveled and she faced me with a snort. “Seems to me you obviously have more than most.”

  A smile tugged at my lips on that one. “You have a point, there.”

  “Damn right I do.”

  “So, where are you from?” I asked.

  “Arkansas,” she said proudly.

  “How long have you been—”

  “Couple months, I guess. Keep ending up in different places. My family’s all spread out, so I guess I have to go get closure with all their deadbeat asses before I can relax.”

  I laughed. “Good luck with that.”

  She grinned then and brandished her ugly orange purse. “Thanks for the company. Even for just a minute. It gets lonely where I am.”

  I focused back on my mother’s headstone. “I understand that all too well.”

  AT a little after midnight, I was tired of being wide awake horizontal so I tiptoed downstairs. Got a glass of milk and a leftover roll from supper and headed out to the porch. Bojangles lifted his head in interest of the dinner roll, wiggled his nose a bit, then decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Meat might have been a different story.

  I settled onto the porch swing with a blanket I hadn’t brought for warmth—there was plenty of that. I needed the comfort in whatever way I could find. In the night sounds of the breeze turning the metal propellers of the weather-vane plane and the crickets and locusts and whatever else was out there partying in the thick air. Probably big tree roaches, too, but I chose denial on that one and it was too dark to prove otherwise.

  My dad was so happy about my job. I didn’t have the heart to tell him how much I dreaded dragging my ass down there again to field crap from old “friends” that probably wagged tongues all over town. Tomorrow would bring a whole new shift of the newly informed pretending to be surprised.

  I knew I felt sorry for myself and part of me despised that but the other part was PMSing and didn’t care.

  “What the hell am I doing?” I whispered to the night.

  “Whatever you have to,” it whispered back as the skin on my neck burned.

  I jumped and jerked to my left to see Alex lean against the rail. I licked my lips.

  “Guess I have to get used to that again.”

  “I have faith in you.”

  He crossed the porch and joined me on the swing, careful not to touch me. People touch ghosts all the time and don’t realize it. Feelings of déjà vu, confusion, random illogical thoughts, losing your way midsentence. Longer contact is more intense, for both. You feel everything they feel and vice versa. All I know is Alex always made it a point to avoid it, so I assumed it wasn’t a good thing for them.

  “So, what brings you out here where there might be cockroaches?”

  I shivered. “Was trying to block that, thank you.”

  “Just saying.”

  I sighed. “Can’t sleep. Too excited about work tomorrow—today—whatever.”

  “Your dedication is inspiring.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, I’m all that.”

  He was quiet for a moment, probably to let my self-pity firmly root itself.

  “It’s just temporary, Dani.”

  “Really?”

  He sighed impatiently and looked away.

  “No, seriously, Alex. Really? Because my dad sings that same song. Do y’all see a lot of upper-level jobs around here? Maybe one day I can be police chief?”

  He sat quiet again, and I felt the flood come.

  “Shit.” My voice quivered and I hated it. But he’d been there before.

  “I know.”

  “I got away from this place and the claws it has that drag you down and rip you up. I made sure I’d never be at its mercy again.” The tears overflowed. “Never.”

  “I know,” he repeated.

  “I know you do. You’re the only one that does.” I gulped air. “Now I’m back, forced to kiss ass to stupid, closed-minded people that I wouldn’t wipe my shoes on a year ago.”

  He looked at me in the dark, and I felt the intensity of his eyes more than saw them. They glistened.

  “They aren’t all that way, Dani. Don’t brand them all.”

  I shook my head. “No, I know. I just—” I blew out a breath to try to calm down. “I just can’t stand the thought of Riley taking the crap for this. They’re gonna fuck with her, Alex, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

  “You’ll be a mom. That’s all you can do.”

  “Yeah, I’ve been such a stellar example of that so far.”

  “You have. Look at her. She’s a strong, smart-ass young woman that doesn’t take any crap.”

  A laugh broke through my snotty hiccups. “Yeah.”

  “So keep doing what you’re doing.” He leaned slightly toward me. “Start with telling her so she has something to arm herself with.”

  I closed my eyes. “Yeah.”

  “Seriously.”

  I nodded and mopped at my face. “I know.”

  “You’re going to tell her?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Really?”

  I sniffed. “At some point.”

  “Wuss.”

>   I chuckled a little in spite of myself. Only Alex had that power. “I went out in a boat today.”

  There was a pause. “Really?” His voice sounded odd. He knew my crazy fear, he’d seen my reaction before.

  “Drove it, even.”

  “How was it?”

  “I didn’t throw up.”

  He laughed and I pushed the swing softly as the thoughts zipped through my head ninety miles an hour. I closed my eyes and tried to let the quiet noise settle the buzz. After a moment, I peered sideways out one eye to find his steady gaze on me.

  “Hey,” he said, his voice soft.

  “Hey. Just checking if you were still here. Never know with you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  I stepped up the appearance meter a little the next day. Just for my own vanity. I couldn’t bear any more “friends” witnessing my downfall without at least good hair and makeup to buffer it.

  It would be okay. It would be a good day. I had the right outlook, I was thinking positive. No more whining and bitching and moaning. I was done with that.

  Even at ten till six in the morning, it was already muggy, so I rolled down my car windows. Not that that really helped anything, just gave some circulation. I drove past the two other streets that led down to the river, both of which held a couple of houses. I always liked that the river area didn’t get too populated. I liked the remoteness. There were only a few cars in front of me this early, probably leaving for Restin. I remember being psycho enough to leave that early for work once upon a time. That was another lifetime ago.

  We crept up to the stop sign, one at a time. My phone buzzed on the console next to me, buzzing itself onto the passenger floorboard.

  “Crap.”

  I leaned over and groped around with one hand, my fingers blindly flailing through old receipts, a pen, and evidently an old pair of sunglasses I’d lost. I looked down for a second. Just long enough for—bam.

  Not a big bam. More of a crunch that involved stopping without the use of my brakes. Enough to make me suck air so hard I almost choked as I jolted forward. I sat there in disbelief at the view of my rattletrap kissing the bumper of the white BMW in front of me.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  The guy that got out of the car with aviator sunglasses had a set to his jaw that clearly mirrored my response and probably a few more.

  “Shit, shit, shit,” I mumbled as I got out and attempted a smile I didn’t feel. “Hi.”

  He stared at his bumper and caressed its new wound, which I noticed was very minor, thank God. Unfortunately, my black car made the union not so pretty, minor or not.

  “Hi? That’s what you get out and say?”

  I backed up a step, taken aback. “Yeah, that’s what I usually start with. You didn’t let me get to—”

  “Do you even have insurance?”

  Okay, officially insulted. “Yes, of course I do.” I took a breath to slow the adrenaline. “Look, I’m really sorry. I got distracted.” I checked out the damage again, caressing my dirty bumper so I could show I cared, too. “It doesn’t look bad. We’ll get it fixed.”

  “Not bad for you.” He pointed at my car with a lip curl. I swear, I didn’t imagine that. “This car is two months old.”

  I imagined it being born, slapped on the ass. “I understand. I’ll take care of it. I’ll call my insurance company—”

  “Well, give me your information,” he said, pulling his wallet out. I noticed his hands were rough. The wallet was worn. Not like someone you’d expect to drive a white cushy car. “I have to go into Restin this morning, I’ll get an estimate.”

  I went back for my bag as two other cars crept by. Really? That interesting? I prayed that I had the most updated card.

  “Please, God, don’t let me be a dumbass,” I whispered. God answered me with favorable results and I breathed a sigh of relief as I handed it to him. “Okay, here you go.”

  He took off the sunglasses and peered at it, then me. I proceeded to write his info on the back of an old receipt I’d pulled from the floorboard with my phone. He pulled out his cell phone, took a picture of my card, and handed it back to me.

  Well. Okay then.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he said and strode back to his chariot and pulled away.

  “Great,” I muttered, looking down at my scribbles. “Fucking great.”

  I went to work, stocked lures, fielded phone calls, posted tide information, told some guy that speckled trout were biting on Rat-L-Traps and buzz tail grubs, and hoped no one was around to hear and know that I pulled that out of my ass.

  On my non-lunch break as I munched a bag of Cheetos, I called the insurance company to tell them I was an idiot and that a Jason Miller would contact them. He already had. Of course.

  I went out on Captain Hank’s boat. I’d never seen the south end of the river, so it truly was a tour. I didn’t get a hat or a list or anything laminated. What I got was a play-by-play of everything Hank had ever caught, tried to catch, or wanted to catch, with eighty-five “sugars” in there to sweeten the pot. On the bright side, the water was calm and flat and Hank was all about trolling the sides, so I did okay.

  By the time we got back, I was grateful to check the bait vats and sweep the floors. I went in the back way and checked the critters first and came up through the hall. I rounded the corner through the beads, smack into a hard body in jeans, T-shirt—and aviator sunglasses.

  “Oh!”

  “Jesus,” he muttered as I stepped on his foot.

  “What the—are you following me?” I exclaimed as he took off the glasses. “I told you I’d take care of it.” It unnerved me that he was behind the counter with me.

  Hard green eyes glared at me. “I just got here. What the hell are you doing here, and coming up the back way?”

  “I work here, asshole.” I walked toward him, hoping to be intimidating. “You want to get on the other side of the counter, please?”

  But he stopped, very still. “You what?”

  Just then, Bob wobbled in with his heavy side-to-side gait, grinning. “Hey, Dani. Hey, Mr. Miller.”

  “Bob.” His face visibly softened to nod a sideways grin at him, and in that tiny instant when he wasn’t scowling, he struck me as good-looking.

  “Got everything set for the night, Boss. I’m gonna head over.”

  I felt my eyebrows raise. “Boss?”

  He turned back to me, and the troll was back. He held a hand out, his face set in stone, his eyes not blinking. It was like looking at a cyborg.

  “Jason Miller. Owner. Manager. Asshole. I believe we’ve met.”

  Oh, just beat me with a fucking stick.

  “Dani Shane.” I shook his hand. “Am I still employed?”

  He let my hand go and turned to run a report on the register. “So far. If you work better than you drive.”

  I closed my eyes and focused on breathing. Tried not to be swayed by the thoughts that descended upon me, saying, You don’t need this. You are above this. You don’t have to take shit from this petty peon.

  Because I did. I wasn’t anymore. And I had to. End of story. Move on, Dani, suck it up.

  “Okay,” was what I managed to say instead, and I grabbed the broom so I could take my frustrations out on the floor. We did our things in silence till I left. Then I said good-bye, as I swung the door open.

  “See you tomorrow,” he responded without looking up.

  I let the door close behind me and thought about jumping in the river.

  LESS extreme measures called for junk food. Tapioca pudding. Chicken and dumplings. Cheese. Ice cream. Not necessarily in that order, but I needed to go to the store. There’d be a bigger store or even Walmart in Restin, but I was not in the mood for a twenty-minute drive up the highway with no air. The Market would have to do.

  The bell hanging at the top of the door jingled as I went in, making me wonder if those things were required door attire. What stopped me short was the sight of Riley behind the
counter.

  “Um, hey.”

  Riley lifted a hand lazily. “Hey.”

  “Get bored at home?” Home. That just fell out of my mouth, and sounded so strange.

  “Epically.” She looked around her. “Walked down here for some chips and ended up with a job.”

  “You—really?”

  At that moment a boy and girl appeared from around a corner. She swiped quickly at her mouth as he fidgeted with his clothing and walked as if there were crawlies in his floppy jeans. The girl was blonde and pretty and probably perfectly figured, but it was hard to tell with the man’s overalls she had on.

  “Hi, can I help you?” she asked, her voice soft and drawly.

  I smiled. Or grimaced, maybe. “I’m good.”

  “Why not?” Riley was answering. “Get some spending money. Not that there’s much to spend it on around here,” she added, nudging blonde girl so that she laughed as she took a seat next to Riley.

  I stared at the girl, somewhat stunned into silence, then forced my attention back to Riley. “Okay.”

  That’s all I could come up with. I stood rooted to the spot, not quite sure what to make of it. Not sure if it was a good thing. Money wasn’t a bad idea, but with Riley’s new bag of tricks, I wasn’t sure if being so in public was a good idea. Of course, not being such a chickenshit and telling her about it would have been a grand idea.

  “I work noon to six every day but Sundays, so I’m almost off now.” She consulted her little black-and-white-checked watch. “Carmen’s been training me.”

  Oh good. Blonde girl had a name and trained my Riley in what? Smiling? Fashion tips? How to blow the stock boy?

  “Okay,” I repeated.

  “So are you buying something, Mom?”

  I felt the familiar prickle, and looked around. Nothing. No one.

  “I—yeah. Chicken and dumplings tonight.”

  “Cans are over there.” Carmen pointed to her right.

  “Did I say in a can?”

  Riley laughed. “Come on, Mom, really. Cans are over there.”

  Ugh. I sucked. I rotted. I was the mother from hell. I snatched up a basket.

  The store hadn’t changed much over the years. Low aisles you could almost see over. Odd organization of items, which when I was growing up, I didn’t realize was odd. I was amazed in my twenties to find out that chain grocery stores didn’t stock toilet paper next to the dairy items.