The Familiar Dark(32)

After I left Cal in the parking lot, I drove around aimlessly. Snuck out the back exit and watched him fade into a tiny dot in my rearview mirror. I was scared to go straight home, didn’t have it in me to be met with a pack of reporters and have to run their gauntlet. Scared of what might come out of my mouth in the seconds between my car and my own front door. I stopped at the Piggly Wiggly and grabbed a handful of Slim Jims and a six-pack of beer, but found my taste for alcohol was still missing, left the first can to warm in my cup holder after a few half-hearted sips. One thing, at least, Cal would be glad to know I wasn’t inheriting from our mama.

Finally, because I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go, I pulled into the diner’s parking lot and backed my car into a spot on the far edge, half hidden in early-evening shadow. Through the plate glass window I caught glimpses of Thomas slinging orders out for pickup, watched Louise and Joan talking to the customers, pouring iced tea and serving pie. I could almost imagine myself in there with them, hollering orders back to Thomas, Junie tucked into the corner booth with her homework spread in front of her, munching on a grilled cheese sandwich while she worked.

I knew Thomas had spotted me, saw his gaze lingering through the window, but when he left for the night, he never once looked my way. Letting me have this time I needed, where I could pretend to be invisible. After he and Joan had gone, I watched Louise wipe down the counters, slide a piece of pie into a Styrofoam container, click off the lights, and lock the door behind her. But instead of walking straight to her car, she crossed the lot to mine. She opened my passenger door and let herself inside, shoved the container at me. “Eat,” she said, handing me a fork and shutting the door as she settled into the seat.

“What kind?” I asked.

“Banana cream, all we got left. And don’t say you’re not hungry.”

I knew better than to argue with her, took a dutiful bite. It tasted flat and flavorless on my tongue, and I had to work hard to swallow.

“Thomas told me not to bother you out here, but I couldn’t help myself,” Louise said. “I’ve been worried sick about you. And then . . . after today.” She paused. “You were the talk of the diner tonight.”

“I’m guessing nobody’d seen a press conference like that before.”

Louise shifted toward me. “It’s not funny, Eve.”

“I didn’t mean it to be,” I said, taking another bite, knowing it was the last one I’d be able to manage.

“It’s probably not my place to say this, but someone’s got to.” Louise twisted her hands together in her lap. “Junie wouldn’t have wanted to see you that way. So angry you hardly looked like yourself. It would have broken her heart.”

Frankly, I didn’t think any of us had any idea what Junie might have wanted. Maybe her fury at being wrenched from the world would have been even greater than mine. Maybe she’d crave blood and revenge. Or maybe she’d want mercy and the mother she remembered. But Junie was gone, and what she would have wanted didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was what I could live with in the aftermath.

I closed the container, the sickly sweet smell of banana threatening to make me gag. “If you’re asking me to forgive, I can’t do that,” I said. “I don’t have it in me.” Forgiveness was a virtue I’d never been taught and one I didn’t have much interest in learning now.

Louise shook her head. “I never said a single word about forgiving. But there’s a world of space between forgiveness and vengeance, Eve. A lot of places you can land.” She sighed, reached out, and took the container of pie. “I guess two bites is better than nothing.”

We sat in silence for a minute, watching the shadows lengthen across the parking lot and listening to the distant sound of a coyote’s howl. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

“I knew your mama’s folks,” Louise said into the quiet. “Not well, but your grandma was the same age as my oldest sister. They were friendly, hung around some before your grandma got married.”

I opened my eyes and turned my head to look at her. “You’ve never told me that.” My mama never spoke much about her family. All Cal and I really knew was that she’d grown up around here, had a father who’d died when she was young, and had a couple of siblings she hadn’t seen or heard from in decades. She didn’t like talking about the past, hers or ours. Always said what was done was done, rehashing was a waste of breath.

Louise looked at me with sad eyes. “I was hoping I’d never have to. It’s not a happy story, which I guess you could’ve probably figured out on your own.”

“Tell me,” I said. I’d learned early not to ask my mama, and eventually I thought I’d stopped caring. But I was suddenly hungry for this history I’d never heard. A background that might help bring my mama’s sharp edges into focus.

“Like I said, I didn’t know them well. Your grandma was only a teenager when they got married, and after that I didn’t have occasion to see her much. Your grandpa had some kind of cabin out in the woods, no running water, outhouse out back. Rough place, even for these parts.” Louise shook her head. “He was a mean son of a bitch. Kept to himself, mostly, but he had a reputation. People steered clear.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said, thinking of how people always gave my mama a wide berth, hoping to be well out of range when she blew.