Page 14 of Thorns and Ashes
I was so proud, but even now, knowing this turned into a distasteful disaster, I still feel pretty good. At least I tried... and managed to laugh about it. Past-me would have never even put on an apron or found herself in a kitchen. Slowly but surely, I notice myself changing. I just don’t know what this new version of me will look like. I’m not even sure how I feel about it. I’m not saying I’m going to be a whole new person, but maybe, for now, I can aim to be a bit of a better one.Baby steps, I remind myself.
“Where’d I go wrong?” I ask, plopping my biscuit back onto the tray.
She shakes her head, eyes wide. “Went wrong? I’m not sure where you went right,” she mumbles, but as if realizing who she’s talking to, she swallows hard and looks almost afraid. As if she’s bracing for the typical “Ice Queen Tris” reaction.
Instead, I laugh, because for once I realize that it’s okay not to be the best at something or perfect. Ainsley makes me feel safe enough to be myself, more than any friend ever has.
“They’re just sooo...” I try to put my finger on it. “They’re not sweet at all.”
“What did you use for sweetness?”
“Umm...”
“Umm?” Ainsley repeats back to me like a question. “Honey?”
“Google said honey isn’t vegan. And I didn’t want to use sugar because I wanted it to be healthy,” I admit.
“Oh, it’s healthy, alright. It’s just not edible.”
After a few more laughs, Ainsley helps me pack the biscuits into a to-go box.
“Maybe the birds will like them,” I tell her, thinking about the beautiful bird that was out on my porch early this morning.
“Please tell me if they refuse to eat them, too. This could be the gift that keeps giving,” she cackles before heading to finish up closing the cafe for the day.
Before locking up behind me, I take a quick second to look over the cafe, noticing how the twinkling lights hanging along the vines seem a little brighter as I close the door.
“Hop in, I’ll drive ya’ home.” Ainsley hops into her Mazda CX-5, and I join her in the passenger seat.
It’s the first time she’s offered, and for some reason, it feels like a step in the right direction. Like something is shifting from simply co-workers to possibly friends. I don’t want topress my luck, but there’s somewhere that I need to go before heading back to the duplex.
“Actually,” I say, caught off guard by my own nervousness, but I guess it shouldn’t come as a surprise.
I hate asking for help. The whole idea of relying on someone else makes my skin crawl. I can add that to the list of characteristics I’ve inherited thanks to my father. I’ve never had a problem that I couldn’t solve with my money. But that was when I actually had it, but now? Now I just have problems.
“Would you mind dropping me off at the Grocery Store down the road? I have a few things I need to pick up.”
I’m expecting her to make a face, show some sign that she regrets asking me to begin with, but she doesn’t. She smiles with that southern comfort warmth of hers. “Sure thing, that’s easy as pie. It’s only a hop, skip, and a jump away from my place.”
“A hop, skip, and a jump?” I echo. “So... is that close or far? Because if someone’s doing that much cardio, they might as well get a bike.”
Ainsley’s laugh bursts out, loud and surprised. “I think I like this loosened-up version of Tris. I hope she stays for a while.”
After convincing her that even though my place is a little more than ahop, skip, and jumpaway, Ainsley finally agrees to leave me at the store instead of waiting. I told her I could, in fact, use the exercise. Plus, I make this trek at least twice a month now anyway.
I hurry back and forth down the brightly lit aisles, filling my basket with everything I need. It’s a routine I’ve grown used to. One that I never imagined I’d learn. Growing up, my mother had a grocery service that would fill the fridge weekly. Shit, we had a service for everything: lawn service, grocery service, car service, housemaids, and trainers. There wasn’t anything I didn’t have at my fingertips. I never thought of it as too much because that was mynormal. I still miss it, but there’s something cathartic about having routines. At least it’s something I can control.
As I’m walking toward the register, my phone starts to buzz. I place my floral tote bag down to find my phone. My mother’s name lights up the screen like clockwork. Every Tuesday, she calls. Not because she wants to check on me or even talk, but because she wants me to answer my father’s calls.
I take a deep breath, brows knitting as the knot in my stomach twists. I hit the ignore button. I have nothing to say to my father. He only wants to try to convince me that he did nothing wrong, but I’ve read the case files, and I’ve seen the news. Shocker, I know, but I’m much smarter than either of my parents has ever given me credit for.
Mother has only ever wanted me to become a dutiful housewife, while my father has only ever wanted me to marry someone in my class or higher. I roll my eyes, throwing a box of granola bars a little too aggressively into my bag. He even went so far as to tell me that while I dated Callie’s brother, a lifetime ago, it was the only thing I’d ever accomplish, and I couldn’t even do that right. Nice guy, right? I self-sabotaged that relationship myself just to spite him and didn’t care who I hurt in the process.
Now my father thinks I want to hear his excuses about how he’s a“good guy”and this is all a“misunderstanding.”Please. I know better. He’s a money guy and always has been. Slick with numbers, slicker with other people’s wallets. But this time it looks like he cut one corner too many. People got hurt, and now the courts are digging into every contract he’s ever touched with the Arias Oil Corporation, trying to trace the paper trail he swears doesn’t exist.
I shove the last box of granola bars into my floral tote, and the bag tips over, smashing against my shin. Perfect. Of course. The fluorescent lights above me buzz like they’re judging me, too. The good mood I had earlier,light and loosenedup as Ainsley put it,slips right out from under me like a spa appointment I booked months in advance, suddenly getting canceled. Figures. My mother always did have great timing. I sigh. It was nice while it lasted.
Around me, the grocery store hums with that small-town hush. Soft conversations float through the air, along with the beeping of a far-off register and the squeak of a cart with one broken wheel. Everyone seems perfectly content in their little domestic bubble, while I’m over here trying not to think about felony charges before dinner.
