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Sailor
Ichew on my grape-flavored bubble gum, enjoying the fact that it still has flavor, and rifle through the rack at Tulips & Ivy. The boutique hasn’t been open that long, and I wanted to check it out.
“Finding everything okay?”
I smile over at the woman. “Yep.”
“I’m Lakyn, the owner. So, if you need help with anything, just let me know.”
I give her a polite nod as she goes to another rack and begins hanging up some items. I keep looking, thinking to myself how several of these dresses are more Hannah’s style than mine. She always looked so beautiful in sundresses and bright colors. If she were here now, she would tell me how I need more color in my life, and I would retort that I’m happy with my blacks and grays.
When I think of her, it dawns on me that I don’t have a lot of female friends. Actually, I don’t have friends, period. I’m pretty much a loner. Our parents live in Cardinal Point, not far from Coree Harbor, but I rarely see them. Each time I visit, I see this look in their eyes, this disappointment, this wish that it had been me who died instead of Hannah. She was their favorite, the one with a family, the one who gave them grandkids.
I’m the screw up who sleeps around and only has a job because Hannah and Holden gave it to me. They didn’t even come to see me when they were here for the carnival.
I’ve tried to form relationships with women my age. Sure, I chat with Phoebe at the bar, and I’m polite to Anabel when I go inside the post office. But I wouldn’t say we’re friends. We don’t hang out, text, or talk on the phone. I don’t have friends like that.
The guys I spend time with are good for one thing only, and I send them on their way. I don’t want to hang out with them, text, or talk on the phone. I spend more time with my brother-in-law, and my nephews than I do with anyone else.
Jesus Christ. I am like Candy.
That’s depressing as hell.
I blink back tears at that thought. If she ever manages to snag a man for good, I’ll be the one everyone calls the town floozie. My antics won’t be sexy anymore ? they’ll be desperate. Single and desperate. Two things I despise. Desperation is the most unattractive quality a woman can have.
But that’s going to be me. And all because I’m fucking terrified to have what my sister had and lose it all. How damn pathetic is that?
“That one would look amazing on you,” Lakyn says. “With your hair and tanned complexion. It’s your color.”
I pick up the dress, the deep shade of red that’s almost maroon, and hold it against me. I look around for a dressing room, and she points toward the back of the boutique. I thank her and go try it on. As I turn in the mirror, surveying the way I look, I decide I’m not going to end up like Candy.
“You win, Hannah,” I mumble.
I change out of the dress and put my clothes back on. Lakyn is smiling knowingly when I bring it to the counter.
“I’ll take it.”
