PAST
“What belongs to you?” The question broke through the silence.
“What does,” The little girl looked down for a moment, sounding out the word in her head, “be-long mean?”
“Do you ever look at something and think, that’s mine?”
The child nodded, making her brown pigtails bob. “Uh huh. My house is mine. My toys are mine.” She thought for a moment more, and then tentatively said, “My daddy is mine, too.”
The woman sitting across from the child abruptly leaned forward, her face getting cast in the golden glow from the lamp that was set between them. Dark hair and eyes grew starker in the lighting. “How about your mother?”
Quickly, the little girl shook head. “I don’t have a mommy anymore.” She wished her hair were down so she can hide her face from the woman in front of her. Instead, she ducked her head, studying the seam of her jean shorts.
A pale white hand grasped her chin, forcing the child to refocus on the woman whose lips always looked like a cherry popsicle had painted them. “But you still belong to her. Don’t forget that.”
PRESENT
Cora was having a great day. Nothing had spilled in the aisles, the toilets stayed unclogged, and there was a manageable flow of customers. Ten minutes until the end of her shift, and she was so close to leaving without any incident.
And then: rope and condoms were slapped down on the conveyor belt. In the ten years that Cora has worked at Grandview’s Grocery, or GG’s as it is affectionately called, Cora has become an expert in practically all of its five hundred and two residents. She knew that teenage Emma broke up with her boyfriend, Paul, about once a month. Three pints of mint chocolate chip ice cream would be purchased like clockwork. A day or two after the pint purchases, Paul would morosely wander in and pick out a dozen roses. Never yellow ones, because apparently they can signify “friendship”, and Emma once chewed him out for it. Cora also knows that Barry, the town’s chief of police, will always surreptitiously look in the DVD bargain bin in front of aisle two. Any romantic comedy will be snatched up and hidden at the bottom of his basket, beneath packets of beef jerky and beer. When Cora goes to place it in a bag at check out, he will loudly mention it is for his wife. However, Barry’s wife Lorraine, ironically while purchasing several boxes of tissues, once confided in Cora about her husband’s sentimentality and love of a good happy ending.
But right now, Cora stared down at the condoms and rope without knowing, and quite scared to find out, who was purchasing them. She pressed the button to move the belt forward, an awkward skidding sound conflicting with the pop music playing throughout the store.
When the items finally reached her, she quickly swiped them over the scanner, eyes resolutely on the cash register in front of her. “That’ll be ten sixty-two, please.”
A wrinkly hand thrust a crisp ten-dollar bill toward her, blue veins visible through weathered skin. “Condoms have gone up so high.” Cora inwardly winced. She recognized that age roughened voice. The odds of someone she doesn’t know that shops at this local grocery mart are slim to none, a small-town feature others may find charming that Cora finds suffocating.
She finally looks up. Eugene Fitzgerald, who goes by Fitz, was sifting through a bunch of change he had in his upturned palm, a tuft of surprisingly thick white hair curled over his forehead. At eighty-two years old, Fitz hasn’t slowed down a bit. And that apparently includes in the bedroom. Cora scrunches her nose at the thought.
Ever polite, even when providing the old man with the supplies to have a seemingly wild night, she takes his change and bags up his items. Times like these she wished GG’s stocked strictly groceries and not other convenience items.
His blue eyes twinkle beneath heavy brows, hands tugging the white cloth belt he always wore, crabs dancing along its seams. “Thank, dear. I’m sure I’ll be back soon.” With a wink he putters off.
Massaging her temples as if she can rub away the implications of Fitz’s purchase from her brain, she walks around the register to clock out. She waves goodbye to Jazz, the other cashier, as she makes her way to the back. Her tennis shoes squeak on the beige linoleum as walks down the middle aisle . Catching sight of the teenager stocking tomato soup, she pauses by his kneeling form. “Tell your mother that we’re set to get some berries next week.” GG’s prides itself on locally sourced produce, and since summer was in full bloom, they were taking advantage of the season’s vegetables.
He blushed as red as the tomato on the label of the can he had in his hand. “Sure thing, Cora.”
A lot of the high schoolers were hired for work, and they made up all of the part time staff. Summer was particularly productive because the kids could work any time of the day, rather than just in the afternoon and evening during the academic year. This particular guy, Harrison, had a raging crush on Cora. Not willing to embarrass him, she never acknowledged it. It didn’t help that everyone knew. Maybe she should send him some yellow friendship roses?
After she punched her timecard, she went out the back entrance. Stretching her leg over a large pot hole, the sudden blare of a siren almost caused her to lose her footing. An ambulance quickly followed the sound, making its way down the street that ran to the left of the store, red lights flashing. Turning to follow the trajectory of the ambulance, Cora saw it peel around the corner in front of the store and park in the gravel driveway of a yellow ranch house. She was startled to notice a police cruiser already there, its lights and ignition off.
An image of a pleasant old man who always wore a newsboy cap popped in Cora’s mind. The elderly man, Jame, has lived in Grandview longer than Cora’s been alive, coming in every Monday morning to buy a pack of cigarettes, a carton of eggs, and coffee. Three of the things he said he needed in this life. Cora always made sure she verbally added insulin to his list, a gentle reminder to refill his prescription. He isn’t able to drive anymore, but luckily lives right across the street from the store; the pharmacy able to deliver. Whenever he decided to buy much more than his three items, Cora would help him carry his bags home. He was still bitter about the loss of independence that came with surrendering a vehicle, and dearly missed his old sedan.
In typical small-town fashion, numerous neighbors were already standing outside on their lawns, or peeping through their windows. Lucinda Jenkins had her bright pink shower cap on and was stroking one of her cats on her porch, her house right next door and a prime viewing spot. Within minutes, this piece of gossip would reach all borders of the town.
Cora crossed the street, seeing two EMT’s jump out of the emergency vehicle and go into a detached garage. A police officer was standing by his cruiser, watching the scene in front of him. Knowing about James’s diabetes and how dangerous a drop-in blood sugar could be, Cora approached him.
“Is James okay, officer? Can I do anything?” If she needed to run into the store for something she would.
The officer turned, lights from the ambulance playing off the sharp planes of his face. A face that caused Cora to take a step back in shock. A face she hadn’t seen in years.
“Dex?” She choked out. Wheezed, really. Dex Carter had been a cute teenager back in the day, and he clearly had matured into an attractive man. He had thick, chocolate colored hair, tawny skin, and green-gold eyes that were always twinkling with mischief. Not much had changed since then, except his jaw had gotten sharper, leaving behind the rounder curve he had displayed back in the day. His eyes were also certainly not full of charm and mischief now. Today, they gazed down at Cora with a sense of professional detachment.
Dex moved to cross his arms over his chest. A chest that had grown since she saw him at eighteen. “Cora Henderson.” His eyes traveled down her form. She was acutely aware of how she threw her brown hair up in a haphazard bun this morning, along with the stains that littered the royal blue vest she was required to wear to work. “Still at Grandview’s Grocery, I see.”
Cora wanted to roll her eyes. Dex, born and raised in Grandview, is probably the only one who no longer calls it GG’s. Maybe after five years away from this town he doesn’t consider himself a local anymore.
“Again, is James okay? Does he need anything? He’s diabetic so I can grab him something from the store.” She wanted to slip in that she now manages said store, but realized now was definitely not the time.
Shifting from foot to foot, Dex cleared his throat. “No, at first glance this seems unrelated to his diabetes.”
Furrowing her brows, Cora was trying to understand why Dex’s tone was so careful when she heard one of the neighbor’s gasp. Stepping to the side of Dex so she can see what was happening, Cora saw the men who came from the ambulance carrying a black body bag out of the garage. The sight of the utilitarian canvas and what was undoubtedly wrapped beneath it made Cora’s head start pounding.
Dex bent his head closer to her, tone softening “His daughter called the station. Missed a video call with his grandchildren, hadn’t made contact for over half a day which was unusual for him. Found him in his car, engine running.”
Cora’s reply was immediate. “He didn’t have a car anymore.” With James’s house being in sight of GG’s, Cora often saw him participating in his ritual of sitting in front of his empty garage, listening to the radio while a plume of cigarette smoke snaked above him. And his garage has remained empty for two years, she was sure of it. Just three days ago, she saw him sitting by it. She remembered seeing a bunch of children’s toys and fishing supplies cluttering the small space, yet there was a perfect patch of clean concrete in the middle. It was like James was always waiting for his car to reclaim the spot. And now it has.
Cora studied the black car in the garage, thinking it looked awfully similar- if not identical- to the original vehicle. She rubbed her arms, feeling chilled.
Dex frowned down at her. The two men from the ambulance walked past them. The one in front, who Cora vaguely recognized from high school, was shaking his head. “Swaddled up in a blanket like a baby in the back seat, never seen anything like it.”
Pulling up to the white colonial she’s shared with her father all her life, she killed the car engine and dipped her forehead to the steering wheel. Death was always hard, but seeing it in this setting shook her. It felt like a physical chill seeped through her clothes and under her skin. James was a good man, one who seemed outwardly happy.
She could see Hilda, sitting ramrod straight in her leather armchair, one of those fancy pens balanced on her thumb. Are you happy Cora? Even without her? The therapist would wait with bated breath, dark eyes a smidge too large for her narrow face, fixated on her own. After years of the same question, Cora learned what response would appease her. And which would not.
A knock on her car window startled her upright.
“Why are you just sitting out here, kiddo?” Her father’s familiar voice washed over her, the light above the garage illuminating his stocky frame. Breathing out a large breath, imagining she was expelling all the built-up anxiety from the day, Cora slid her keys from the ignition.
Opening the door for her, Gus peered into the vehicle, a red bandana wrapped around his short gray hair like a headband. Before the chemotherapy, his hair had been to his chin, and he always kept the strands away from his face with a bandana. He never stopped wearing a bandana even when he was bald, but seeing that hair start peeping back through his scalp made Cora happy. To her, it was a sign of his health.
“Just tired. And upset. I’m sure you’ve heard about James.” She swung her legs out of the car and stood.
“Luce called me, yes. It really is quite a shame. James was a good soul.” Gus wrapped his arm around his daughter’s shoulders as they walked up the stone walkway to the house. Gus’s hand thrown pots were placed to the side of the stones, plants overflowing the rims; they were thriving in the idyllic warm weather central Virginia was having. “I also was told about Dex Carter returning.” Luce and Gus: Reigning King and Queen of Grandview Gossip.
“I think he was the one that found James.” Cora was having trouble getting that black bag out of her head, she couldn’t imagine what it was like for Dex to actually see James. She moved her body a little closer to her father’s as they climbed up the front porch. At twenty-five, sometimes Cora still wanted to wrap herself around him like she did as a kid. A large man with the personality to match, Gus Henderson was always a source of comfort. She would never know what it is like to have two parents, but she’ll be damned if Gus didn’t just about make up the difference.
He nudged her gently into the house, switching off the lights outside. “We can all spend hours trying to pinpoint why, and we both know our fellow neighbors of this town will surely do just that. But only James knew and hopefully he’s at peace now.”
As it turns out, just about every person over the age of twelve that made up Grandview’s meager population did in fact hem and haw over what may have been going wrong in James Yancey’s life. Much later, they also later found out why. And how. And who.
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