Read Online Please Ignore Vera Dietz by A. S. King - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: A. S. King
Tags: General Fiction
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enemies when I make friends of them?” (Abraham Lincoln said that.)
1:02. Another trip to Potter Farms and a teenage party with chaperones who look vacant and are dressed in neutral, catalog-bought clothing. I have to walk across a bridge that spans an indoor koi pond. The father is foreign and very nice, and escorts me over the bridge. The mother is clapping a lot to get the kids to come to the kitchen. They intentionally tip me ten bucks, which is my biggest intentional tip of the night. When we’re halfway back over the bridge toward the door, the father says, “Want to toss in a penny?” and sticks a penny in my hand.
I turn to the pond and eye a bright pink fish the size of my forearm shimmering his way from shadow to shadow, and I toss in the penny and make a wish. I wish for world peace, because it’s about as likely to occur as anything else I can wish for.
• • •
At two, the phones stop ringing and Marie cashes the part-time drivers out. All the store help are gone but Jill, who’s doing prep, and a girl I know from school named Helen, who needs a ride home. There are three or four runs left, and James says if I wait a few minutes I can take Helen home and drop off a big order at the same time, so I wait.
Halfway to her house, she says, “How are you doing? I mean”—she sighs—“uh, since Charlie died?”
“I’m okay.”
“It must be hard. I mean, I’m sad about it and I didn’t really know him.”
“Yeah. It’s sad.”
“Did you know about the animals?”
It’s weird. Nobody really talks about the animals. The minute she mentions them, my heart pounds and the images come rolling back behind my eyes. Damn brain.
“No,” I lie.
“I just couldn’t believe that, you know? That such a nice kid would do that to innocent animals.”
I think of what Charlie had seen. How his father beat his mother. How he pulled her hair out sometimes. I think about what it must be like to want to stop a thing that you can’t stop.
“It’s pretty easy to blame the whole thing on the dead kid, isn’t it?”
“I—uh—I guess.”
We get to her house. “Don’t believe everything you hear, you know?”
She cocks her head and thinks about it for a second. “Happy New Year, Vera.”
As I watch her walk to the door, I realize that she’s just another person who probably can’t locate Florida on a map.
I deliver my last run, get a five-dollar tip, and stuff it into the bag behind my seat. Then I get back to the shop and start mopping. It’s already three-fifteen and I want to be drinking the bottles in my trunk by four. James has stocked the cooler, Jill has done the dishes, and Marie has cashed me out. I hand her my money bag and she hands me my double commission in cash, with an extra twenty-dollar bill.
“A bonus for my full-timers,” she says, and winks.
The mix James made in the mop bucket is bleach-heavy. It sticks in my nose and as I mop myself into the back kitchen, Marie’s cigarette smoke thickens and mixes with it and I feel light-headed.
I finish, dump and rinse the bucket, and clean the mop-head. I go into the bathroom to change, and toss my shirt into the washing machine, and start it.
James is still here, in his car, in the parking lot. He motions me into his passenger’s seat and lights a cigarette.
“You going anywhere special?” he asks.
“Just home,” I lie.
“No party? No boyfriend to kiss?”
There is no doubt that James is flirting with me.
“Nope. No party. No boyfriend. But some geeks over on Lancaster Road invited me to their all-night Monopoly party. Wanna go and crash it with me?”
He feigns consideration. “Nah. Something tells me I won’t get any kisses there.”
“Kisses, eh?”
“Uh-huh.”
He leans in toward me and my stomach does a bunch of flip-flops.
“Is that all you’re after?”
“Uh-huh.”
So, I kiss him and it feels really nice, and I really don’t care that James is twenty-three, or a college dropout, or
1:02. Another trip to Potter Farms and a teenage party with chaperones who look vacant and are dressed in neutral, catalog-bought clothing. I have to walk across a bridge that spans an indoor koi pond. The father is foreign and very nice, and escorts me over the bridge. The mother is clapping a lot to get the kids to come to the kitchen. They intentionally tip me ten bucks, which is my biggest intentional tip of the night. When we’re halfway back over the bridge toward the door, the father says, “Want to toss in a penny?” and sticks a penny in my hand.
I turn to the pond and eye a bright pink fish the size of my forearm shimmering his way from shadow to shadow, and I toss in the penny and make a wish. I wish for world peace, because it’s about as likely to occur as anything else I can wish for.
• • •
At two, the phones stop ringing and Marie cashes the part-time drivers out. All the store help are gone but Jill, who’s doing prep, and a girl I know from school named Helen, who needs a ride home. There are three or four runs left, and James says if I wait a few minutes I can take Helen home and drop off a big order at the same time, so I wait.
Halfway to her house, she says, “How are you doing? I mean”—she sighs—“uh, since Charlie died?”
“I’m okay.”
“It must be hard. I mean, I’m sad about it and I didn’t really know him.”
“Yeah. It’s sad.”
“Did you know about the animals?”
It’s weird. Nobody really talks about the animals. The minute she mentions them, my heart pounds and the images come rolling back behind my eyes. Damn brain.
“No,” I lie.
“I just couldn’t believe that, you know? That such a nice kid would do that to innocent animals.”
I think of what Charlie had seen. How his father beat his mother. How he pulled her hair out sometimes. I think about what it must be like to want to stop a thing that you can’t stop.
“It’s pretty easy to blame the whole thing on the dead kid, isn’t it?”
“I—uh—I guess.”
We get to her house. “Don’t believe everything you hear, you know?”
She cocks her head and thinks about it for a second. “Happy New Year, Vera.”
As I watch her walk to the door, I realize that she’s just another person who probably can’t locate Florida on a map.
I deliver my last run, get a five-dollar tip, and stuff it into the bag behind my seat. Then I get back to the shop and start mopping. It’s already three-fifteen and I want to be drinking the bottles in my trunk by four. James has stocked the cooler, Jill has done the dishes, and Marie has cashed me out. I hand her my money bag and she hands me my double commission in cash, with an extra twenty-dollar bill.
“A bonus for my full-timers,” she says, and winks.
The mix James made in the mop bucket is bleach-heavy. It sticks in my nose and as I mop myself into the back kitchen, Marie’s cigarette smoke thickens and mixes with it and I feel light-headed.
I finish, dump and rinse the bucket, and clean the mop-head. I go into the bathroom to change, and toss my shirt into the washing machine, and start it.
James is still here, in his car, in the parking lot. He motions me into his passenger’s seat and lights a cigarette.
“You going anywhere special?” he asks.
“Just home,” I lie.
“No party? No boyfriend to kiss?”
There is no doubt that James is flirting with me.
“Nope. No party. No boyfriend. But some geeks over on Lancaster Road invited me to their all-night Monopoly party. Wanna go and crash it with me?”
He feigns consideration. “Nah. Something tells me I won’t get any kisses there.”
“Kisses, eh?”
“Uh-huh.”
He leans in toward me and my stomach does a bunch of flip-flops.
“Is that all you’re after?”
“Uh-huh.”
So, I kiss him and it feels really nice, and I really don’t care that James is twenty-three, or a college dropout, or
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