Page 13 of Trucker
After a while, I slapped my palms to my thighs before carefully pulling my feet back to solid ground and standing.
Using a brush in a basin of soapy water, I scrubbed down my grandfather’s angel. Afterward, I set to work pulling all the weeds in the small garden around it and shoving them into a small garbage bag I carried with me.
“Hi Pops.” I smiled, shooing away a errant bird that had landed on one of the Angel’s outstretched hands. “I know, it’s been a while. But it’s not that I didn’t’ want to visit. Things have been a little—busy.”
I planted a few extra sunflowers then turned my attention to my grandmother’s grave. For some reason, ever since I was fifteen, I found out no one was taking care of my grandparent’s graves. My father and mother didn’t care—they never cared.
This explained why my grandfather’s will was set the way it had been.
“Hi there, beautiful lady.” My voice cracked.
Inside my head, I could hear my grandmother’s reply.
“Sweet talker.” She used to tease while tapping my cheek with a tender finger.
Smiling, I set to work cleaning her angel, setting marigolds in the angel’s hands then sat to talk to her.
Mostly, I talked about my life living in such a small town where people treated me like the village idiot.
Or rather, should I say the village’s witch?
“The only thing is they can’t burn me at the—” I frowned. “You know what, don’t worry about it Nan. I’m stronger than we all think, right?”
Exhaling, I looked up, watching the sunshine through the leaves above. Closing my eyes, I inhaled, held the breath and listened to the soft music of the wind through the leaves. Thecool air rose up the slight hill to wash over my face like a cool caress.
A few hours later, I pulled into a spot in front of the diner.
After ensuring I didn’t have mud on my face like the last time, I pushed from the front seat and slammed the door behind me.
“Well, time to go be the town’s pariah.” I shrugged.
Ignoring the whispers and the stares, I strutted to the front counter and picked up a menu.
After looking through it, I decided on the BLT with a country salad and a bottle of water. I would be cooking a major meal for breakfast and didn’t feel like cooking dinner just for me.
“I thought she moved away?” One whispered.
“Dare to dream.” Was the reply. “And what gave you that idea?”
The judgment and hate I’d inherited from my mother. She was the woman the town’s most eligible bachelor chose. She was the foreign woman he’d fallen for—or rather that had seduced my father into her bed.
That wasn’t the truth—that was far from the truth.
In their minds the truth wasn’t important, and my parents didn’t care what the thought.
I supposed they hadn’t thought what that reputation would mean for their children.
It wasn’t a good life.
But as horrible as my father was, he’d treated my mother like a queen. No one could tell me, despite all his faults, that my father never loved my mother.
And it didn’t matter to these terrible people that I wasn’t my mother, and that my mother had passed away when I was just a little girl. They saw her in my face and they hated that.
They hated that so desperately, they’d passed the hate down to their kids who were now passing it on to me.
It didn’t seem like they even cared that my father had only had eyes for one woman.
Straightening my spine, I paid for my food and left a tip even though Esther was side eyeing me. I checked my food to make sure she hadn’t spat in it, flipped some brown hair over one shoulder and catwalked back to my car.
