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6
Kristopher
“Hmm. Yup, just what the doctor ordered.” I say more to myself than to her as I dig into my country—fried steak. I had her take the highway, and we’re now at The Loveless Cafe. This joint is a fucking national treasure. The food is good, cheap and their biscuits help sop up all the booze. I look at her, and she ordered the marinated grilled chicken sandwich and opted for a side garden salad, both of which she is just sorta picking at.
“You plan on eating that or just gonna worry it to death?” I say, taking another full bite of biscuit and gravy.
“You plan on eating like that the entire meal?” She looks and sounds disgusted.
I look down at my plate before putting down a piece of biscuit and wiping my mouth with a napkin. “I’m sorry, but how else would you like me to eat this? It’s sorta a two-handed job.” Okay, so maybe I went a little caveman—ish, but damn, the food is good here, and I don’t often get a chance to eat out. I’m usually a tad too drunk to drive.
“With manners and not like a hog eating slop.”
“Biscuits and gravy are basically slop.” I chuckle. Picking up my fork, I straighten my back and proceed to cut a small bite of biscuit, followed by a bit of chicken fried steak. I daintily dip the small portion in the gravy and smile, pinky up as I take the diminutive bite. “How is this, m’lady? Does it not offend your delicate sensibilities?” I tease.
She tosses her napkin at me. “Don’t be a dick.” I notice her resting bitch face has cracked ever so slightly as a small sign of a possible smile turns at the right side of her mouth. I hear a little jingle. I’ve heard it a few times today, and it’s now that she’s unavoidably in my line of sight I see she’s wearing the pandora bracelet. The jingle I hear is all the charms and baubles moving with her hand.
“That’s quite the collection you got there.” I point with my fork, looking at my own bit of sentimentality. I still have the bracelet from Claudette, though I now wear her’s as well. I never take it off, and it has never fallen off. She said it would when my wish came true. Since she’s dead, that will never happen.
The bracelet is not her only collection. She also has an extensive amount of body ink and jewelry. In the shorts she’s wearing, I can see that a massive piece runs up her right leg. Mostly it’s a chandelier-type inking that looks attached to a large red rose that no doubt goes higher than I can see. Up her left arm, as if to balance out the leg’s severity, is a delicate sleeve. Golden poppies and cherry blossoms wrap the entirety of the arm with little bluebells added. This, too, disappears beneath her clothing. Her ears are intricately pierced. Instead of the typical up—the—ear lines, the lobe is stacked like a pyramid. Two low, one high, all studs. Then her cartilage, tragus, and the little cleft above it are all pierced. There is also this demure little diamond stud in her nose. On some women, this looks odd or even stupid. But for her face, it works.
She’s staring at the bracelet but otherwise silent. Before I can say anything else, she pulls out a little notepad. You know the type, the tiny ones that could fit in your back pocket? She scribbles something down, prompting me to snatch it from her.
She tries to snatch it back. “Hey! That’s mine!” She quietly protests.
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law.” I snicker, reading what she wrote.
Life is hard. Life is long
You never know what you need to get along with.
Things are crazy, less than neat
Your mouth goes dry, and your knees get weak.
Wildflowers whisper on the breeze
Their secret lives keep me on my knees.
An answered prayer has kept me here
But instead of dreams, there’s only despair.
I purse my lips and nod my head. “This isn’t bad. I would encourage you to pursue this. It’s really rough, but I can handle rough.”
"You say the nicest things." She returns to resting bitch face.
“Tell me where it comes from, the words. I asked you about your bracelet, and you jotted those last—I’m guessin’ two lines?” I watch her. I have this twinge in my chest as she visibly swallows.
"June eighteenth will make eleven years that Pop got me this." She jiggles her wrist a little. "I woke up to it after my surgery. He gets me a new charm for special occasions. “Have you ever walked through a wildflower field?” She finally smiles, “I know they say you don’t dream under anesthesia, but I swear I had a dream of being in a field just surrounded by wildflowers.” Her hand goes to her chest almost thoughtlessly. “This was a great gift, but it’s a great burden too.”
“Did you say—June eighteenth?” I ask. My mind is instantly zapped back to the day my parents died. They were killed in the crash, but Claudette held on for five whole days. I can feel the tears burning my eyes. Maybe it’s a coincidence. I mean, could she really have been that little girl? I vaguely remember the time. I do remember signing over her heart to a man with a dying little girl. I was thankful that Claudette's death could maybe mean something to someone. What are the odds that this girl sitting before me was holding my sister’s heart?
"Yeah, they told us—I remember the exact moment—at one eighteen in the afternoon that they had a heart for me. A little girl had died after a—”
“Car accident,” I say softly, and she looks up in surprise.
"How do you know that?"
“On June thirteenth, my parents were in a horrible interstate crash. A semi jackknifed and hit their station wagon. They were killed by the impact, but Claudette—” I hold back the sob that is threatening to erupt. Reaching into my coat, I pull out my flask of whisky and take the long pull of liquid courage. “My baby sister was asleep in the back… She held on for five days. I spent every moment with her. I prayed, and I cursed God with every breath they forced her to take. On June eighteenth, at precisely one in the afternoon, she died. So you see, that heart you have might as well be mine.”
