Page 49 of Tempt

This woman will be the death of me, I know it.

“I baked the goodies, before I let Wilbur near mygoodie.”

“Ewww,” I groan in disgust. “Please never say that again. In fact, don’t ever again talk to me about anything involving you and Wilbur. My stomach cannot take it.”

“I’d say you need to get some so you will relax, but I already know you are getting some so,” she shrugs and begins moving around once more like I didn’t catch her and Wilbur in the middle of a morning romp.

I walk away shivering at the thought and step out into the front, turning on a few little lights behind the counter.

I notice then that the displays are filled with fresh donuts, miniature cakes and goodies. Gran wasn’t lying. As if she’d ever jeopardize this place or its name.

I turn around to go back to the kitchen when something out front catches my eye. Something or more like someone, slumped down and curled in a ball at the front door. Their body is turned away, so I can’t see their face but by the hair I can tell it’s a woman.

“Gran,” I whisper.

When she doesn’t come I carefully walk toward the swinging door and push it open, saying Gran once more. She steps out of the pantry and what I’m feeling must be written all over my face because she hurries forward.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s someone all curled up outside the front door. It looks like a woman, but they aren’t moving.”

Gran doesn’t say anything, but instead hurries out to the front and walks quietly around the counter and toward the front door. Kneeling down on the opposite side of the door she leans in, and I hear a quick intake of breath.

“Rose,” when she whispers my mother’s name I feel like it takes away my breath. My chest aches, and I place my hand over it, rubbing slightly.

When she taps on the glass I step forward, I don’t know what for, but pause when the woman opposite her looks back over her shoulder. It’s her eyes, it's like looking in a mirror.

She is dirty, her hair all ratted like it hasn’t been washed in weeks.

The clothes she is wearing appear to be two sizes too big. Getting up on her knees she turns and when she looks past Gran and finds me her face grows slack and tears shine in her eyes.

“I can’t do this,” I say, turning around and walking toward the back. When I hear the bell above the door chime and I stumble over my own feet, bracing myself on the counter.

What does she want?

Years and years have passed with no contact, now here she is. Why?

I grab my purse and make it to the back door, just about ready to push it open when I hear a voice from behind.

“Don’t go,” I pause with my hand on the handle. “I’m sorry I came, I tried to stay away, but—,”

“It’s been years.” I turn around and the person I am facing looks tired and worn out. No longer is she the youthful, erratic person I remember. But a frail and overused version of her old self. “The last time I saw you, you left with some random guy, and I had to eat stale cereal and canned food for days before I finally ran out. You didn’t care about me then so don’t pretend that you do now.”

“I was a mess,” She says as if that explains everything.

“And it looks like you still are.”

I turn around, shove open the back door and walk out into the crisp morning air. I have to get away.

“Kyra, wait?” She hollers after me and my anger and frustration boils over.

“I was done waiting for you a long time ago.” Spinning around I take a couple steps backwards, throwing up my hands in the air. “Do you know how many times growing up I wished that just once I’d be more important than the drugs, alcohol and the guys? Once,” I hear the cracking in my voice but refuse to fall apart, she doesn’t deserve it. “I don’t need you, I have my mother,” I point behind her where Gran stands. “I have Gran and she gave me that life you should have.”

I can’t stay here and do this.

“You’re here, great, whatever. There is nothing I can do about it, but I don’t have to like it. And I sure as hell don’t have to sit around talking and sharing stories. All my stories end up with me being a child alone while the woman that gave birth to me whored herself out for her next hit. I don’t have one that I can tell that has a happy ending, unless it's the one when you finally stopped coming back.”

I walk away, climbing in my car and not once do I look back.

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