Chapter 10
MY FEET CRUNCH ACROSS THE empty gravel parking lot as I follow my mom through a faded wooden door marked MARTIN’S MEATS in red paint.
We’re the only ones here, which is a good thing because there’s only enough room for a few customers.
We walk around a homemade set of plywood shelves stuffed to the gills with hot sauces, steak rubs, and grill tools.
I hope she doesn’t think it’s weird us just showing up with a random sandwich, because now that I think about it… yeah, it’s kinda weird.
Well, we’re here now.
As we approach the counter, there’s a woman about Nora’s height but heavier-set behind it, her graying hair pulled back into a low ponytail. I set the bag down on the counter, watching her work with her back to us, grabbing handfuls of ground beef and dropping them onto an old-school metal scale.
“Excuse me, are you Mrs. Martin?” my mom asks, stepping up to the counter next to me. The lady glances over her shoulder just long enough to see the paper takeout bag.
“I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling.” She wraps the meat up in a sheet of butcher paper in one fluid motion. “If you’re here for a fundraiser, we’re already getting involved at the county fair.”
“Oh no. That’s not why we’re here,” my mom responds.
“What can I get for you, then?” The woman turns to face us, peeling off her clear plastic gloves. “We’re running a special on stew beef, three ninety-nine a pound. Chuck eyes are—”
“I’m sorry,” my mom interrupts her, looking more apologetic than she should. “We’re actually here to drop this sandwich off for Nora. It’s from Lola’s.” She picks the bag up off the counter and holds it out.
Mrs. Martin looks skeptically between the bag and my mom. “Why is it you’ve brought my daughter a sandwich?” she says with a suspicious drawl.
My mom looks more than a little uncomfortable, but her politeness instincts kick in and she plows ahead.
“I’m Julia Green. And this is Stevie, the girl she—”
“Stevie Green,” Mrs. Martin announces, before my mom even finishes. “Now, there’s a name I recognize.” She crosses her arms over her chest, leaving my mom still holding the bag halfway over the counter between the two of them.
“Yes, well, we’re so grateful for what your daughter did that day. I know it’s not much, but we thought we’d stop by and say hi. Bring her a little something for dinner,” my mom says, glancing over at me and then back again.
“Well, isn’t that nice of you.” Mrs. Martin’s voice is dripping with sarcasm. Now I’m really feeling like we shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t like it.
My mom shakes her head, confused. “I’m sorry, did I do something?”
“Nora has slacked off on every single job I’ve asked of her these last two weeks and chosen instead to wait around a hospital for some silly stranger who fell into the crick she had no business being near in the first place.
” She directs her attention to me, her dull hazel eyes making my knees shake.
“I’m sorry. I—I can’t remember anything.”
“Amnesia, huh? That’s shocking. I was actually expecting you to be blind. Or did you just ignore the hundreds of No Trespassing signs posted all through the wood?”
“Hey. Don’t speak to her like that,” my mom interjects firmly. It’s enough to make me jump, but Mrs. Martin doesn’t even blink.
She just stares at my mom with a slightly amused smirk, like she’s won something. “Leave it on the counter,” she says finally, turning her back to us and grabbing another hunk of meat to drop onto the scale. “Although she won’t eat it. She’s too good for regular-people food these days.”
I want to ask what that means but I don’t want to prolong this conversation any further.
My mom hesitates for a second, burning a hole in the back of Mrs. Martin’s head with her look. I tug on her sleeve, and she breaks her stare, locking eyes with me. She takes a breath and when I flick my head toward the door she nods and drops the sandwich onto the counter with a thud.
“You okay?” I ask when we’re safely back in the car.
“God, that woman!” She curls her hand into a fist in her lap. “What was that? Not even a concern for the fact that you could have died. No wonder Nora spent every day at the hospital.”
“Yeah, I don’t know. She was pretty scary, but so are hospitals.” I laugh to try to lighten the mood, but it falls a little short. That’s not a lady I’d want to have to spend any time at all around.
“How dare she talk to you like that!” my mom responds, still hyped up on her frustration. “She wants to talk to me like that? Fine! But you? I could’ve… I could’ve socked her.” And at the idea of my mom “socking” anyone, I let out a real laugh. “What? I’m serious!” she exclaims.
“It’s okay, Mom.” I pat her leg, stifling another laugh. “I mean, she was a jerk, but… I don’t know. She had a point,” I admit.
“She had no point,” Mom scoffs, and I look over at her.
“She did. Mom, what the heck was I doing out here?” I ask, shaking my head and motioning to the endless fields all around us.
“I mean, how did I end up in the middle of the woods, falling into a ravine? I’ve never even been here before.
” I tighten my hands around my knees, looking out the front windshield.
“At least I don’t think I’ve been here. I just don’t get it. ”
“It’ll be okay,” she says unconvincingly. Normally she’d know exactly what to say, a plausible solution to make me feel a bit better, but instead she’s chosen the most generic statement on earth.
“Will it?” I ask. “What if I don’t get my memories back? What if I never remember?”
“Then…” She sputters for a second. “Then I’ll help you find your place again.”
“What if you can’t?” I look out the passenger window, nervous that I’m about to open a can of worms, but I can’t get the thought out of my head. “Mom, things feel different between us.”
“No. I don’t think so,” she replies, almost automatically.
“Really? You don’t feel it? I mean, what’s with Lola’s? We’ve been going there all my life, and suddenly we just stopped?”
“Stevie.” She shakes her head. “We just got busy. You had school and soccer and Savannah and Rory, and I’ve been doing my thing at the church. It’s nothing more than that.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” she replies. I study her face, looking for signs that she might be hiding something more, but I just find a soft familiar smile.
She starts up the car and pulls out onto the road. Our conversation feels finished, but I’m not sure it put me any more at ease. I don’t want to find my place again. I want to remember the life I’ve already lived.