Page 49 of They Say a Girl Died Here

Anna nodded. She’d figured as much from the yearbook photos. Lila was at the center of a whole world, and Melissa was only one tiny segment of it. “I had a couple of best friends before,” Anna said. “In high school and college. But I haven’t spoken to them in a while. Things change, right?” She should maybe message them. But what was there to say? Still don’t remember. Still fucked-up. Glad all is rosy for you. Selfish. But she was.

“Anyway, you’re a better friend is what I’m trying to say.” Melissa swung her legs like a kid, almost bashful. “I’m glad you moved here. I mean, no one else knocks down drunks quite like you.”

“Except you!” Anna snorted. “Maybe next time we stick to dancing.”

“Hell no. We could start a public service. Plenty of pricks in this town who deserve it.”

Twin lights appeared in the distance, weaving down the dusty road toward them. They slowed momentarily and then continued forward. “That must be the doc,” Melissa said. “Coming to check on Jezebel. Even weirder to think he saw me slide out of my mom’s vagina.”

“Enough of the vaginas!” Anna grimaced. “I should get home anyway. Mom’s pissed at me enough.”

“I’ll tell the doc how great you were. That’ll get back to your grandma, at least. She’ll tell your mom.”

“If she remembers.” They both smiled a little at that, gallows humor, as Anna dropped down from the truck. “Say good night to Jezebel for me.”

The scooter had charged plenty to get her home, and she was so tired she thought she might be able to sleep in the dark tonight. She kicked away, waving at Dr. Burdett as he came past her. He looked surprised, but then, even though she’d taken her T-shirt off during the birth, it was still somehow covered in filth and sweat that had seeped through when she’d put it back on.

She didn’t push hard but cruised down the lane slowly, and was glad she did, because when Mr. Laverne stepped out into the lane suddenly, she managed to stop without falling off.

He swayed in the LED brightness of her headlight, and in the beaten-down path through the field she could see where he’d been sitting out by the creepy scarecrow. An empty liquor bottle lay on its side at the base of the post, as if the scarecrow itself had gotten drunk and dropped it.

“Get away from my farm,” he snarled at her, swaying slightly. “And stay away from my daughter.”

“I was helping with the cow.” Her ears started to pulse. It was dark. He was drunk. She was alone.

“I said stay the fuck away.”

Her legs moved despite fear wanting her to freeze and she kicked off again, swerving past him, pushing faster this time.

“You hear me?” he called after her. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay the fuck away!”

She didn’t look back, letting the night air cool her panic before it really took hold. Not here. Not now. Not after the joy of Jezebel. She only slowed when she reached the main road, and even then, not by much. At least the doc was at the farm with Melissa. At least she wouldn’t have to deal with her drunk father by herself. Poor Melissa. Her dad really did have a problem with her having friends. So much to cope with. For the first time in a long time, she thought someone might have it harder than she did.

57

The downstairs lights were on when she got home, tired and stinking of the farm, and found Mom on her knees in the kitchen trying to fit a lock to the under-sink cupboard.

“Oh, come on,” she muttered as a tiny screw fell to the floor and rolled under the stove. Grandma, sitting at the kitchen table, didn’t move or acknowledge Anna’s arrival, but Mom looked up, staring for a long moment.

“What happened to you?” she said eventually.

“It’s like I said. There was a problem with a cow. I had to help it give birth.” It sounded so matter-of-fact as she spoke that if she hadn’t been covered in mucus and cow shit, Mom would have presumed she was lying.

“Of course you did.” She turned back to the cupboard as if nothing Anna did surprised her anymore.

“What happened here?”

“Your grandmother made us both coffee, and thankfully I came in as she was about to add bleach instead of milk.”

“Wow.” Still, Grandma didn’t react.

“Yes, wow. So now it’s nearly eleven and when all I want to do is sleep for the rest of my life, I’m trying to fix a lock to the cupboard, and if I don’t get it done, I won’t be able to relax because she could do anything while she’s like this.” She blew hair out of her face, frustrated. Anna stood there for a long moment before deciding it was worth risking stating the obvious.

“I mean … you could just move the bleach,” Anna said. “Maybe?”

There was a long pause, and then Mom sat back on her heels and sighed. She half laughed and then sighed again. “Yes. Yes, I suppose I could.” She pulled the various cleaning products out, putting them up on the countertop. “Why didn’t I think of that?” She was moving fast, slamming the bottles down hard, frustrated, angry, upset, exhausted.

“Hey.” Anna took one from her. “Hey, I’ve got it. Chill.” She crouched, carefully removing the rest and then putting them high up on the shelves Grandma couldn’t reach alongside the abandoned sleeping pills. “I’m sorry I went out,” she said. “It really was an emergency. I’m sorry. For all of it. Really.”