Dark End of the Street

Felt good to stretch her legs and be among people again. Didn’t matter if they were toothless or a little haggard. She smiled at a little Asian woman who passed her carrying a crate of Yoo-Hoo.

Abby could barely afford one. All she had was two dollars. There had to be something in the cooler for that. She wasn’t thirsty anyway. Maybe one of those horrible egg salad sandwiches or a microwavable roast beef sandwich. She grabbed the egg salad.

“Abby?” someone asked. “Is that you?”

She turned and faced a young woman, who was maybe in her late twenties, with brown hair cut all one length. She wore a gray sweater, dark jeans, and running shoes. Abby studied her face and smiled. She was too old to know from class.

“I’m sorry,” Abby said, shrugging.

“Ellie,” the woman said. “The Grove? Met you and your cousin last year?”

It was a voice she recognized from every bourbon-drinking, cigarette-smoking Southern woman she’d ever known. The woman’s thick lips curved into a welcoming smile. Her big blue eyes dropped into hers with a familiar look Abby knew but couldn’t recognize. The woman’s skin was tanned and her eyebrows thin and arched.

“Sure,” Abby said, lying.

The woman suddenly reached around Abby’s neck and squeezed her close. She smelled like Calvin Klein perfume and Abby felt the woman’s weighty breasts smash against her like two balloons filled with concrete. “God, I’m so sorry about your parents. My God. What you’ve been through. I spoke to Maggie just the other day and she said she was just worried to death. Cain’t believe I just ran into you like this. On my way to Memphis, you know, and stopped off for gas. You look so tired. Are you all right? Abby, I’m so sorry.”

For some reason, she didn’t know why, maybe because she was so tired and maybe she wanted to be held, but Abby hugged this woman back, who she didn’t know shit about. It felt good to be with someone familiar.

“My car. I think the engine is about to burn up,” Abby said.

“Oh, Lord,” Ellie said. “Sit down and let’s have a cup of coffee and figure it all out. I know this place is absolutely awful, but would you like lunch? I mean, a hamburger? No one can screw up a hamburger or breakfast, or at least that’s what my daddy always told me.”

Abby opened the freezer and replaced the egg salad sandwich.

“Sure,” she said.

As Perfect rambled, she watched Abby’s eyes follow the water sluicing down the foggy window like it was worms racing. Perfect loved to ramble like Ellie. It was like letting loose and peeing outdoors in the rain. She talked about when her father died from cancer and how she’d lost twenty pounds in two months. She spoke of recently finding comfort in God after a ski trip to Aspen where she saw sun fall across the snow like a halo. And of course, she offered to drive Abby back to Oxford and maybe find Maggie and go out to dinner at City Grocery.

She could tell Abby was barely listening. The girl just sat there at the Grandma’s counter as eighteen-wheelers rolled by outside. Perfect decided to try the human-contact move. Basic shit. She reached over, spread her fingers wide, and covered Abby’s hand noticing overgrown cuticles. No manicure?

The trick was not to grasp the hand, but just to give a warm reassurance. Levi taught her that. Levi had taught her everything.

“How ’bout it?” Perfect asked, keeping her hand in place. “Leave that old truck here and come with me. Let’s just circle back, I don’t need to shop anyway. We’ll find Maggie. She’s so worried about you, Abby. She really is.”

Abby had barely spoken. Strange little bitch. She was petite and loose-limbed and had the same sleepy eyes Perfect had noticed from the family photographs. The girl didn’t wear makeup and kept an Ole Miss hat scrunched down in her eyes. Greasy hair. White T-shirt stained with old coffee.

A little stubble under her arms. Good Lord. The girl needed to be hosed off and shaved.

“How do you know my cousin again?” Abby asked. Still not looking Perfect in the eyes.

“One of her friends is big buddies with my boyfriend, and Jamie – that’s my boyfriend – throws these massive parties after football games. Last year he had this crawfish boil where we all just got sloshed and ended up fighting with those little buggers. Shells in my hair and in my ears. Maggie was there. Funny, I haven’t seen you at one of those parties, too.”

“Doesn’t sound like something Maggie would do,” Abby said. “She’d rather spend the night at Square Books reading Eudora Welty and drinking coffee than vomiting with a bunch of ex-frat boys.”

“C’mon, Abby,” Perfect said. Never give them the time to follow your eyes or reverse your flow. She gripped Abby’s hand in hers. “Follow me on back to Oxford. You need a decent meal and a warm bath. I’ve got buckets of bath beads and this big old copper tub with claw feet. You can soak away everything. Please. If I left you and saw Maggie later I’d just die.”