Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes
Page 18
It took me a moment to recover from my shock. “Go home, Joe.”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“Go. Home.” I enunciated each word slowly so there was no misinterpreting my meaning.
“Rose, wait a minute.”
I walked toward him and opened the door. “I appreciate everythin’ you’ve done to help me, but I’m done bein’ told what to do. Thanks for all your help paintin’ and thanks for installin’ the locks. Let me know how much I owe you.”
Joe stood in the doorway. “Rose, I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to boss you around.”
“I know, but you weren’t even supposed to help me paint anyway, remember? You were just goin’ to give me some pointers. You did, now you can go home.”
Joe went outside, looking over his shoulder as he climbed down the steps.
Ah, crap. I felt a vision coming. Go away, Joe. Go away. “The dog’s goin’ to get out the hole in your back fence.” That one confused me. Joe didn’t have dog.
“What?”
“See you around,” I said, shutting the door and locking it.
I started to paint again, feeling lonely. Part of me was sorry I sent him away, but I knew I’d done the right thing. Besides, he would have figured out soon enough that I was a freak.
Several hours later, I finished the last coat. The sun had set, making it difficult to see the true color. Still, I could see it was bright and cheerful, yet not overly yellow. It should have made me happy but the fight with Violet ate at me, stealing my joy. Violet and I never argued and it made me question everything.
Was I being selfish? Was I stupid staying in the house? I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to kill me. I decided Violet had been right the night of the murder; Momma’s murder was just a random crime and it would have been me if I hadn’t fought with her earlier that day.
Nevertheless, I was still uneasy going to sleep that night.
The next morning I called Betty at the DMV and told her I wouldn't be into work until Thursday. She insisted I take off the entire week, and I could only imagine Suzanne’s reaction to that. I wouldn't be surprised if she thought I killed Momma just to get out of a four-day work week. Seriously, I’m smarter than that. If I was going to go to that much trouble, surely I would have picked a five-day week instead.
Next, I called Deanna Crawfield’s office to make an appointment but her receptionist said she had a family emergency and couldn’t see me until Thursday afternoon.
The floral shop confounded what little decision-making skills I had left. I only hoped my choices would meet Violet’s approval. While I couldn’t care less what the town thought about Momma’s funeral, Violet did. My newfound independence may have disappointed her, but I hoped I could make it up with this.
On the way home, I stopped by a local dress shop. I walked through the door and a wave of disbelief washed over me. I was shopping for Momma’s funeral. I shook it off, determined not to let Violet down in this either since part of the funeral judgment included the attire of the surviving family members.
Normally, I would go in the store and hide behind the racks, hoping to go unnoticed. I didn’t really want to be noticed today, but I decided it was time to be more assertive.
“Excuse me,” I choked out to a saleswoman, ignoring my rising anxiety. “I need to buy a dress for a funeral.”
The middle-aged woman motioned me to the back. “Are you goin’ to the funeral of that poor woman who was murdered the other night?”
Her question didn’t surprise me. Murder and mayhem were big news in Henryetta. I nodded.
She leaned close, half-whispering. “They say her daughter did it. Just bashed her head right in.” She tsked after this.
My stomach churned. I suspected that was what the entire town was saying.
“Are you friend or family?”
I didn’t want to lie but it seemed the best course of action. “Friend.”
The saleswoman eyed me up and down, tilting her head and squinting her eyes.
My cheeks began to flush. She knows who I am.
“You look like you’re a size six, am I right?”
I suppressed a sigh of relief. “Yes.”
“I have several things that would work for a cute little thing like you.”
I looked around to see who she was talking to. I was the only one in the store.
Handing me several hangers, she led me to a dressing room. I tried on a simple black dress first.
The saleswoman knocked on the door. “How are you doing in there?”
Watching myself turn from side to side in the mirror, I was surprised how much older I looked. Surely, Violet would approve. “I think this dress will work. But, uh, do you have something that would be good for the visitation tonight?”
My request excited the clerk and she returned with several skirts and blouses. With her help, I settled on a pale green skirt and a white sleeveless blouse.
“Do you have shoes to match?” she asked.
I paused and that was all the encouragement she needed. She returned with several pair for me to try on. The first were black pumps with two-inch heels. I hoped I could figure out how to walk in them before the funeral the next day. The other was a pair of white sandals. As I slipped them on, I felt a vision coming.
“Your daughter is sneakin’ out of the house to see her boyfriend at night.”
The woman appeared startled. “What? How did you know I had a daughter?”
His eyes widened. “What?”
“Go. Home.” I enunciated each word slowly so there was no misinterpreting my meaning.
“Rose, wait a minute.”
I walked toward him and opened the door. “I appreciate everythin’ you’ve done to help me, but I’m done bein’ told what to do. Thanks for all your help paintin’ and thanks for installin’ the locks. Let me know how much I owe you.”
Joe stood in the doorway. “Rose, I’m sorry. I wasn’t tryin’ to boss you around.”
“I know, but you weren’t even supposed to help me paint anyway, remember? You were just goin’ to give me some pointers. You did, now you can go home.”
Joe went outside, looking over his shoulder as he climbed down the steps.
Ah, crap. I felt a vision coming. Go away, Joe. Go away. “The dog’s goin’ to get out the hole in your back fence.” That one confused me. Joe didn’t have dog.
“What?”
“See you around,” I said, shutting the door and locking it.
I started to paint again, feeling lonely. Part of me was sorry I sent him away, but I knew I’d done the right thing. Besides, he would have figured out soon enough that I was a freak.
Several hours later, I finished the last coat. The sun had set, making it difficult to see the true color. Still, I could see it was bright and cheerful, yet not overly yellow. It should have made me happy but the fight with Violet ate at me, stealing my joy. Violet and I never argued and it made me question everything.
Was I being selfish? Was I stupid staying in the house? I couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to kill me. I decided Violet had been right the night of the murder; Momma’s murder was just a random crime and it would have been me if I hadn’t fought with her earlier that day.
Nevertheless, I was still uneasy going to sleep that night.
The next morning I called Betty at the DMV and told her I wouldn't be into work until Thursday. She insisted I take off the entire week, and I could only imagine Suzanne’s reaction to that. I wouldn't be surprised if she thought I killed Momma just to get out of a four-day work week. Seriously, I’m smarter than that. If I was going to go to that much trouble, surely I would have picked a five-day week instead.
Next, I called Deanna Crawfield’s office to make an appointment but her receptionist said she had a family emergency and couldn’t see me until Thursday afternoon.
The floral shop confounded what little decision-making skills I had left. I only hoped my choices would meet Violet’s approval. While I couldn’t care less what the town thought about Momma’s funeral, Violet did. My newfound independence may have disappointed her, but I hoped I could make it up with this.
On the way home, I stopped by a local dress shop. I walked through the door and a wave of disbelief washed over me. I was shopping for Momma’s funeral. I shook it off, determined not to let Violet down in this either since part of the funeral judgment included the attire of the surviving family members.
Normally, I would go in the store and hide behind the racks, hoping to go unnoticed. I didn’t really want to be noticed today, but I decided it was time to be more assertive.
“Excuse me,” I choked out to a saleswoman, ignoring my rising anxiety. “I need to buy a dress for a funeral.”
The middle-aged woman motioned me to the back. “Are you goin’ to the funeral of that poor woman who was murdered the other night?”
Her question didn’t surprise me. Murder and mayhem were big news in Henryetta. I nodded.
She leaned close, half-whispering. “They say her daughter did it. Just bashed her head right in.” She tsked after this.
My stomach churned. I suspected that was what the entire town was saying.
“Are you friend or family?”
I didn’t want to lie but it seemed the best course of action. “Friend.”
The saleswoman eyed me up and down, tilting her head and squinting her eyes.
My cheeks began to flush. She knows who I am.
“You look like you’re a size six, am I right?”
I suppressed a sigh of relief. “Yes.”
“I have several things that would work for a cute little thing like you.”
I looked around to see who she was talking to. I was the only one in the store.
Handing me several hangers, she led me to a dressing room. I tried on a simple black dress first.
The saleswoman knocked on the door. “How are you doing in there?”
Watching myself turn from side to side in the mirror, I was surprised how much older I looked. Surely, Violet would approve. “I think this dress will work. But, uh, do you have something that would be good for the visitation tonight?”
My request excited the clerk and she returned with several skirts and blouses. With her help, I settled on a pale green skirt and a white sleeveless blouse.
“Do you have shoes to match?” she asked.
I paused and that was all the encouragement she needed. She returned with several pair for me to try on. The first were black pumps with two-inch heels. I hoped I could figure out how to walk in them before the funeral the next day. The other was a pair of white sandals. As I slipped them on, I felt a vision coming.
“Your daughter is sneakin’ out of the house to see her boyfriend at night.”
The woman appeared startled. “What? How did you know I had a daughter?”
