4. Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Ash
A sh is stirring the pot her mom assigned her for the hundredth time as she lets her mind wander to the jackass who parked next to her.
Yes, he should have been more aware of his parking.
Yes, he should have apologized better. Yes, he should have offered to move his truck.
But she saw the way he was looking at her, awestruck.
She hates being looked at that way. Men either see her as physically too strong or get turned on by her body in a weird fetish way. She hates it.
“Ashley, you have to keep stirring, or it will burn.”
Ash grits her teeth, the one fucking second she pauses, and her mom is on her.
“Yes, Mama.”
Her mom tuts and walks back to the cutting board, where she keeps cutting up fresh strawberries.
Ash had seen the pallets of fruit, and she knew she was in for the long haul.
It’s not that she minds helping her mom.
It can even be fun to make jam. But coming off an extremely long day like this to help her mom, who’s in a mood, isn’t what she had in mind.
“Ashley, I said stir.”
Ash lets the spoon go, and it sinks into the hot jam. She turns and walks out the back door, ignoring the look her mother is giving her. She leans against the railing of the porch and takes a deep breath. It’s cold out, and in just her jeans and t-shirt, she can feel it seep in quickly.
“Jam making too much for you?”
She hears the raspy voice of her dad and turns around with a smile, not having realized he was on the porch as well.
She moves over to sit in the chair next to him.
He’s bundled up. A warm jacket with a thick blanket across his legs.
He’s thinner than before when he ran the farm.
Looks about fifteen years older, even if it’s only been a handful.
Gray wispy hair and deep wrinkles on his tan face.
Ash is taller than him, always has been.
Her dad always joked that Ash was half giant.
She hated her height growing up, but as an adult, being tall and strong made firefighting easier, and she kind of secretly likes towering over people.
“How you doing, Dad?”
“Oh, you know, still living. Your mother driving you up a wall?”
She huffs out a breath and leans her head back against the chair. Where does she begin? Yes, her mother drives her a little nuts. But mostly it’s life that’s a little too much for her right now.
“I went to the store to get the canning jars, you know? Well, there was this man, parked too close, and I couldn’t get in the car. I may have flipped out and yelled at him.”
“A man, huh?” her dad says with a smile.
She pushes her elbow into his arm on the armrest playfully, and he chuckles.
He understands and gets that she doesn’t have an immediate attraction to people.
Has never had any bad words to say about the fact that she likes both men and women.
It’s her mother who doesn’t quite get it.
“It’s just been a day. A big fire caused by idiots, then the incident with that man parking too close. Now I get to listen to mom tell me I’m not stirring right.”
Her dad chuckles. “Your mom loves you. Just tell her to back off a little, and she will. You know how she is about jam, it’s one of the few things that’s hers.”
Ash knows. Her mom was the queen bee of their old town.
Head of the town’s booster club, knew everyone there was to know, friends with the mayor and his wife.
Now she’s a nobody in this small town. Doesn’t leave the house much because of her husband, dedicates all her time to caring for him.
Ash knows it’s a big change for her mom, she can empathize.
“Ashley dear, this pot is not going to stir itself.”
“Yes, Mama.”
Ash takes a deep breath and stands, smiling down at her dad as she moves back into the house. Her mother is looking at her with pursed lips. Clearly irritated that she left the jam unattended. Ash goes back to stirring, the jam looking the same as before she left her post.
“You haven’t told me, met anyone new lately?”
Ash knows what she’s asking, if she’s dating anyone.
“No, Mama, you know it’s different for me.”
“Yes, but don’t you work with all those handsome firefighters?”
Ash can’t help the grimace that crosses her face. Some of the other firefighters are friends that she feels no attraction towards. The others she’s not even interested in friendship with.
“Mama, they are my colleagues, not a dating pool.”
“Well, what about Davis down at the drugstore?”
“The pharmacist? Mom, he’s got to be thirty years older than me.”
“Doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be a good match. He has all his hair, you know. And a good job. He’s a good member of the community.”
“I’m not interested, Mama.”
“Well, I’ve invited him to dinner.”
“What?” Ash hears herself raise her voice and feels the spoon slip from her hand. “When?”
“Well, tonight of course, I got the roast already in the oven.”
“Mama, I’ve been up for like thirty-six hours now. I’m counting down the minutes till we’re done with this jam so I can go home and sleep. I am not staying for dinner.”
“Ashley Ann Grant, you do not raise your voice to me in my kitchen. Now I invited a very nice man to dinner to meet you, and you will be here.”
Ash braces her hands on the countertops. So many years of this. She’s thirty years old and still taking orders from her mother. She’s told her mom countless times she’s not interested in dating, but her mom always tries to shove her into someone new.
“Don’t you want to give me grandbabies?”
Ash can feel the anger bubbling up. Can feel it like a sour taste in her mouth. She wants to yell, scream that her mother won’t accept her like she is. When she turns to yell, she can’t, and all that comes out are soft words.
“Mama. I’m never going to fall in love quickly as you and Dad did.
I’m thirty years old, and I've been in love twice, I count myself lucky. And I know James is gone and not coming back, but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to move on.
I have a good job, friends, and I’m happy.
I may never date, fall in love, or get married.
I may never have children, and that’s okay with me.
I’m happy, Mama. Right now I’m happy with my life. ”
Ash feels proud of the fact that she said those things without yelling, without raising her voice, and without starting a fight between her and her mother. Her mom looks at her with hard eyes, but Ash can see the beginnings of tears. Maybe she reached her this time, made her understand.
“Jam’s not going to stir itself.”
“Yes, Mama,” she turns back to the stove top and picks up her spoon.
Two hours later, when all the jam has been canned, she picks up her purse and leaves.
Kissing her dad on the forehead from his recliner and saying she’d be back on Sunday to mow their lawn.
She tells her mother goodbye, to which her mother doesn’t answer, and she leaves.
She leaves the guilt in her parents' house.
Guilt for never quite being the daughter her mother hoped for.
Guilt for not having kids already for her mother to spoil.
Guilt for being thirty and single by choice. She leaves it there and goes home.