The whirlwind of my visit through Charleston continues the next day, with a visit first to Mr. Billups at his store. Rob is at the register when I come in, and he smiles, tilting his head over his shoulder to tell me Mr. Billups is in his office. It is so familiar. I had told Rob I was going to stop by the store, so it feels normal to walk in without anybody being surprised to see me, like I could walk straight through and head up into the file room and get on with my shift.
I remind myself to ask about life here and not just go on about myself like I did last night. Even now, after I spent the morning asking all the right questions—How is school? How is so-and-so? How is Summer Grove? How is Charlotte, the girl who lived in the rose-exploded room before I had, whom I always expected to meet but never did?—I still feel badly for how I talked and talked about only myself last night.
I ask Mr. Billups about how things are going, and after a very quick “Everything here is fine,” Mr. Billups tucks his thumb into the red stripe of his suspenders and leans back in his chair, narrowing his eyes at me. “Tell me about you.”
I smile, feeling the warm familiarity of him in my life.
I first tell him what I know he will like most. “I’m taking classes to become a nurse.”
“Very nice,” he says, nodding his head, looking like a proud grandfather with his white beard and red suspenders. I can’t help but grin in the glow of his pride. “How long will it take you?”
“Another year and a half.” I don’t mention the modeling, because it sounds frivolous and superficial here in this utilitarian store.
“How are you paying for it?” he asks. That’s Mr. Billups, getting right to the point.
“I’m working,” I say, nodding my head in time with his. His eyebrows jerk up, and his bottom lip pushes out.
“Good, good.” He leans forward, putting his big hand over mine. “You got to the gate.”
I know exactly what he is talking about. I had come to him when things with my mom were really at their worst, after the fire—when you tried to kill her, the voice whispers in my ear, and I can’t deny the truth. I am no angel.
“Yes, I did.”
“Do you need anything?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“I’m good.”
“I believe you are.” He leans back, lacing one of his meaty thumbs through his suspenders. “Well, if you ever decide to come back this way, my files sure are getting backed up.” We laugh because we both know that my days of filing his paperwork are done.
We talk a little longer, and when the conversation begins to feel that it has touched everything we can comfortably touch on, I tell him that I need to go.
“Where are you headed next?”
“I’m heading out to the country. I have a couple of friends I want to see.” I’ve been walking all around the idea of driving out toward the trailer. It feels like a festering wound, with a scab I can’t leave be. I am a different person than when I lived here. Don’t my clothes at least say as much?
I pull into Huck’s on my way out of town, for gas, and make my way into the station to pay. My mind wanders while I stand in line, my eyes lost in the red ponytail in front of me. The ponytail in front of me pays and turns, her stomach stretching out in front of her, and I see her face. I drop my keys staring at the three prettiest freckles I know—on the bridge of Kelci Bancroft’s nose. I bend down to get my keys, and when I stand up, she is looking at me, her eyes wide.
“Oh my God,” she says, and I hear her shock. I hear her confusion.
“Kelci,” I say, after a moment. I’d had a split second where I thought I could pretend to be somebody else; I could pretend not to recognize her. She is so changed, but of course I recognize her. How could I not? I’m sure it shows on my face. I try not to look at her belly and what it implies.
“Alison Hayes, you look great,” she says, her voice breathy. I step out of line with her, her hand holding mine. Her fingers are warm and soft. The person behind me steps to the register.
“Thanks. You, too,” I say. “You’re expecting.” I could bite my tongue.
“Yeah! I know. I’m so fat.” Her voice rises with excitement and . . . pride? A faint pink rises up her cheeks.
“Wow.” I don’t know how to adjust my perceptions. Kelci Bancroft—knocked up? I want to reach out and touch her belly, I want to feel the baby inside and remember when there was life inside of me. She waggles her hand at me, displaying a diamond set in a gold band.
“You’re married?” So, not knocked up in the way I’d thought.
She smiles. “Yeah. We just didn’t want to wait.”
Who is the father? My mind spins, with a strobe flashing behind my eyes, frightened that the answer will change everything. Surely not Dylan. I would know. “Who?”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she says, putting her hand under my elbow. “You remember David, don’t you?”
My heart beats again. “Sure. David Delaney. I think I remember you were dating him.” Air rushes back into my lungs, and the dark edge around my vision fades. “How is he?”
“He’s good. Pretty excited about this little man.” She dips her head, looking so sweet and pleased that I have a hard time reconciling her with the girl I remember from high school. How is this the same girl who had told me at the end of sixth grade, when I was being held back and she was going on, that I wasn’t good enough to be her friend?
“Well, congratulations.” I take a deep breath aligning my features, the way I do for the camera. My shoulders drop, and the tension falls out my fingers. “That’s so exciting. What about college?”
“Well, you know. It’s just more school, you know? I went last year, but then David came home, and we just decided that we’d take over the grocery store when Mommy and Daddy decide to retire. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do anyway.”
The register is free, so I step back to pay for the gas, and she waits for me. We walk out into the bright sunlight together.
“I was real sorry about your mom,” she says. “That was terrible.”
I nod. “Yeah, it was. Thank you.” We stand there for an awkward minute, while I think about how much I had hated her for so many years, how jealous I had been, and here she is, stuck in this town with her future set in the aisle of a grocery store.
“Listen to me, going on about me, but you look great. Where have you been? You just kinda disappeared.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” I laugh. “I’m out in California, you know.”
“I didn’t!” Her hand brushes a loose strand from her face. “Who would have thought you’d be the one to get out of this town?”
“Yeah, I know, right? But there was nothing really here for me.” I crinkle my nose, as if I’ve smelled something unpleasant. This town is just too small for me now.
“Wow. What’s it like?” There is awe in her voice, and for the first time, I hear the slight country twang in her speech, something I’ve lost living in California.
I smile my most beaming take my photo smile and say, “It’s just amazing. The most incredible sunsets in the world off the La Jolla Cliffs. I’ve learned to surf and sail. I’m doing some modeling, a couple of commercials. There are some pretty good prospects coming up.”
“No way!”
“Sure. It’s pretty awesome. Did you get Dillard’s Look Book?”
“Probably.”
“Look for me. I’m in there.”
Her mouth drops open, and a small breath puffs out of her. I laugh. “Now you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Wow! That’s just . . .” I see the glint pass her eyes, the small spark that says “why not me,” the little green ghost. “Well, that’s just awesome.”
“Yeah, California’s great.”
“Yeah. I bet. You’re really in the Dillard’s book?”
I nod.
“That is so cool. How long are you in town?”
“Couple days.”
“Wow. Have you seen Dylan?” she asks. “I think he’s home for break, too.”
“I’m heading out that way now.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “Thought I’d surprise him.” I wink at her, and she lets out a small giggle.
“He’ll be surprised, all right.”
“It was great to see you,” I say. We hug, like we are long-lost friends, and the mound of her belly presses against me.
“You, too. You just look great. I’m so excited for you,” she says, but what I hear is “I am so jealous.” We’ve reached her car. She lowers herself into it and I wave, walking toward the truck, not looking back.