I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror, noting the bruise is nearly gone, or maybe it’s just camouflaged by the dark circles under my eyes. Either way, it’s a step up from two weeks ago when it looked like I’d walked out of a boxing match I had no desire to be in and clearly lost.
Feeling rattled and out of sorts, I turn my car off and hop out, then double back to chug the rest of my espresso before tossing the empty cup in the passenger’s seat. Slamming the door shut, I make my way across the now-familiar lot and glance around for Stevie. It’s so quiet out here. The October breeze feels like a refreshing embrace as it coasts across my skin.
When I don’t see Stevie anywhere, I decide to explore the property before knocking on her front door. I could text her that I’m here, but that’s no fun. I like showing up unannounced, catching her in a real moment when she’s dappled in dirt stains, prancing around the kitchen in an apron, or bent over the garden with flushed cheeks and beads of sweat rolling down her temples.
Mom needs four-point-two hours to primp for guests: curls in her hair, fifteen outfit changes, and makeup that fills every crease and shadow. There’s nothing real about that.
As I wind my way around the house in search of nothing in particular, I stop in my tracks when I spot a giant cow grazing the pasture.
I blink.
A fucking cow.
Its coat is a mix of clean black patches and white, sleek and shiny as the sun beats down. It’s munching on grass, eyeing me as I stand there gawking at it like it’s an alien being zapped from space in a beam of green and glittery light.
Swallowing, I glance down at my expensive leather boots.
It moos.
I can’t tell if it’s judging me or if it’s kind of impressed. They’re nice boots.
“She won’t hurt you.”
Spinning around, I come face-to-face with a woman who looks to be around fifty, with mild crow’s-feet, sun-dappled skin, and a nurturing smile—Stevie’s mom. “Oh, uh…I know.”
“Her name is Emmy. She’s very gentle,” the woman says. “You can pet her if you’d like.”
My hands immediately slip into my pockets. “I’m good. She looks skittish.”
“You look skittish.” Stevie joins us at the side of the house, peeling a banana. There’s an amused grin flickering on her lips as she approaches. “Are you scared of our cow?”
“What? No.” That’s ridiculous. It’s a cow, and just because it’s staring at me with scathing eyes, gearing up to charge doesn’t mean I’m scared. “Just cautious,” I cover. “I’m not around animals much anymore.”
Stevie takes a bite of the banana, her expression laced with playfulness. “That explains a lot.”
“I’m Chrissy. Stevie’s mother.” The woman extends her hand to me, and we shake. “You must be Lexington.”
Her touch is a warm blanket as she embraces my cold, clammy palm. “Nice to meet you.”
“I’ve seen you coming around a lot. Stevie tells us you’re practicing for the play?”
“Yeah. It’s opening in early December, so we have a lot of work to do.”
She smiles, glancing between the two of us. “My daughter says you’re very talented.”
“Mom.” Stevie interjects, her cheeks turning pink as she snags me by the wrist and ushers me away. “We need to get started. Joplin’s in charge of dinner tonight.”
“Lexington, you should join us for supper,” her mother offers. “We’re having meat loaf.”
“Um…” I glance at the cow. “Homemade?”
“Of course.”
Yikes. “Thanks, but I can’t stay long.”
Stevie’s fingers are still loosely linked around my wrist as she gives me a light tug. “We don’t kill our cows, if that’s what you’re getting at. We buy our meat from the local butcher.”
If she were anyone else, I’d be pulling away right now. There’d be fire ants crawling all over my skin, voices in my head screaming at me to disengage, to bolt, to take cover and hide. I don’t like being touched. Touch has always resulted in deep wounds, both mental and physical.
