Speaking of which, if you ever have visitors come to town, we own the Woodchute Motor Lodge down in the District. My sister Stevie runs the place, and I help out when I can. We’ve made a lot of improvements in the past few years. Well, Stevie has. You might have seen her around, pushing a wheelbarrow with her rocks? She drives a car covered in bottle caps and glass? She’s harmless, just not all there sometimes, if you know what I mean. Keeps making her art, as it were. Anyway, we’re booked up a lot these days, but she’ll work with you. She’ll give you a discount, since you teach at the Syc.
Hey, did you know there’s a recall on peanut butter? Salmonella. Thought that was chicken. Anyway, I don’t know if it’s all brands or what, but watch out. Oh, and now Hazel has decided she wants to be vegetarian. Veggie burgers! That’s on my list. Have you tried them? My mom says they look like cow shit and probably taste that way. Well, I’m going to get them for her anyway because at least it’s not cereal. I don’t know if I’d be able to do without meat. When I was pregnant with Hazel, I could not get enough. I’d eat it raw. You’re not supposed to, but she turned out fine. Wasn’t like I was smoking or drinking or anything. Although if I was, that’s my business. That was one thing I hated about being pregnant, how everybody felt like they could come up and tell you what they thought was best. They’d put their hands on you. Reach out and lay a hand on your belly. Like you’re public property. I mean, excuse me? That’s mine. ’Course, it’s not like I’m not used to people saying things. I wasn’t married or even with the father, and to put a cherry on it, I went ahead and shacked up with Angie a couple years later, so you can imagine.
You know, a couple weeks ago, I took Hazel out to practice driving and we went down to Phoenix without telling anyone. We kept on going, headed out to I-17, just us girls. Told my boss at the bank I was feeling sick and couldn’t come in, faked a cough. Told Ang I had to run some errands. I don’t know what got into me. I haven’t done that in a long time. For a while there, I thought, What if we keep going? I don’t know where. Somewhere. Ended up in Phoenix, though. I took the wheel, and we got lost even though I used to live there. I have a terrible sense of direction. I went down a one-way street the wrong way. Hazel was trying to read the map on her phone, and everyone was honking. Finally, finally, we got ourselves downtown and parked. We were so hungry, I spent twenty-five dollars on two sodas and two pieces of chocolate cake at this snooty place, at that one hotel with the restaurant at the top overlooking the city. The waiter got into such a huff about us making fun of that cake, stomping around, his nose in the air. We cracked up. We laughed and laughed the way you do. Hazel. She’s a good girl when she wants to be. I worry about her. This place can be hard. People are, I don’t know. Mostly live and let live, but it wasn’t always that way. I used to be scared shitless of who I was, and so was Ang. But we made it, and I can’t imagine my life without her. Hazel will have to figure it out, too. But damn, you don’t want your kid to suffer, you know? Almost sixteen. Not much younger than Jess Winters. Who knows if another place would be any better, though. Trouble can find you anywhere.
Anyways! Can you believe it’s 2009? Remember when the 2000s seemed like a million years away? Stevie used to think we’d have flying cars, and we’d go roller-skating on the moon. ’Course she’s like that. When I pointed out the teeny-tiny detail about gravity, she’d said, It’ll work. You’ll see. Anyway, here we are. Time’s the one skating right on by. I’m going to be thirty-three years old next month. Thirty-three. The age of Christ, ha. When did that happen? I used to think I’d be somewhere else. Or maybe not somewhere, but something. Sometimes I wish—well. If wishes were nickels.
Thanks. She is. Listen to me! You came in to get your car fixed, and here I throw my entire life in your lap. Let me go check on your car. You have things to do. I’m Rose Prentiss, by the way. Nice to meet you, Laura. Hey, I hope you like it here. Don’t listen to me. It’s not so bad, really, once you get used to it.
Azaleas
A woman walked into a bar. She said to the bartender, “A man walks into a bar.” The bartender said, “Ouch.” The bartender knew his jokes. He knew his customers. He knew this customer once as his high school Humanities teacher, and he still called her Ms. G even when she said, “It’s just Esther now, honey.” He knew her as the woman who owned the bakery that made his stomach growl in the mornings when he rode by on his bike, the teacher he’d always loved just a little. She seemed a bit drunk already, and the bartender frowned as she pulled herself onto a barstool. She lived around the corner, though, and had most certainly walked instead of driving, so he poured her a short whiskey and Coke, no ice. She drummed her fingers, and her silver rings caught the light.