Fairy Circle Page 6

  Saffron’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “What? Me?”

  “Yeah, Sag-Ass Bea told me you were mental or something, like smiling all the time.”

  Saffron said nothing as her hands hung limp at her sides, their dead weight pulling her shoulders forward. She felt heat prickle her cheeks.

  Coco put a Black Chicken sticker on the sandwich and threw it in the cooler, staring at Saffron the whole time. “Your face is baboon-butt red, but otherwise, you look fine to me.”

  Really? The dreadful weight in Saffron’s arms lightened and she stood a little straighter. “I call her the Fried-Headed Lady.” Saffron was still mumbling.

  Coco cocked her head. “Wha…?” She opened her mouth and screaming laughter came pouring out. Her eyes opened wide. “Oh, my God, that’s like wicked funny! What are you doin’ workin’ here anyway?” Coco wiped her nose. “You goin’ to school part time? Help me toss these salads.”

  She gave Saffron a plastic long-handled spoon and together they began to stir the salads in the display case. She showed Saffron how to gently fold the congealed salads in on themselves so they would appear fresh. They were told to do it on every shift.

  “I don’t go to school.”

  “Savin’ up for it?”

  “Nah.”

  “You just graduated, right?”

  Saffron looked up, stunned. Coco had remembered her from school and she had been a year ahead of Saffron. They had never spoken before in their lives. “Yeah, I did.”

  “You hung around with all those snobs, that bitch, Mindy.”

  “Yeah, she’s my cousin.”

  Coco stuck out her pointed tongue. She looked like a gagging bird. “Sorry. Sorry she’s your cousin I mean.”

  Saffron smiled and worked at the tuna salad.

  “So what are ya workin’ here for?”

  Saffron glanced away. She shrugged.

  Coco swiped her nose on the back of her rubber glove, then wiped that on her apron. “I mean, what’s your plan, dude?”

  Saffron opened her mouth, but was saved by the ting-a-ling of the front doors, which meant a customer was coming in. Coco strolled up to the counter to sell a pack of strawberries-and-cream-flavored chew to a short, young guy with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

  “You old enough for this?” She wagged the pink bag in his face.

  “Yeah.” He sneered and slapped a twenty on the counter, then snatched the bag.

  “I mean, dude, if you don’t have a plan you’re going to end up like Sag-Ass Bea. She’s been here for like a million years now.”

  Saffron froze. She saw the miniature, angry, baseball guy looking in her direction. She bit her lower lip and felt the familiar roasting of her face. Saffron had assumed she and Coco would resume their conversation after he left. She looked helplessly at Coco, willing her to shut up as she watched Coco count out the angry baseball guy’s change. In the same minute, his interest petered out and he walked out the glass doors without saying anything.

  As he passed beneath the jingling bell Coco yelled, “You’re welcome!” Then she muttered, “Angry little shit, that one.” In the next second, as if nothing had ever happened, she looked at Saffron. “I mean, don’t you have a plan?”

  Saffron was even more petrified of getting into this conversation now that she knew Coco had no sense of decorum. She'd keep talking, probably say anything as the customers roamed in and out. Why aren’t you getting a life? What’s your bra size? You’ve got something hanging out of your nose, while all the while bored shoppers tuned their ears from between the rows of dusty canned goods and dusty condoms. Saffron grew hot and itchy just thinking about it. What the hell did it matter, anyway? Why was Coco bothering her about this? She didn’t even know her!

  “What are you going to do?” Saffron mumbled over the rush of water that couldn’t move the congealed mayonnaise from her fingertips, then immediately regretted her mouthy blunder. Her eyes skidded over to Coco’s face to see how pissed she was.

  “What?” Coco yelled from the chip aisle, where she was choosing her dinner.

  An old man came through the door, ting-a-ling, and behind him, someone else. Saffron bit her bottom lip - she wasn’t yelling across these strangers to have this stupid conversation of Coco’s.

  Coco appeared alongside her. “I got a plan. I need this job for a short while, buy me some big jubs.”

  Three things happened at once. The Windex bottle Saffron just picked up dropped on the floor and bounced around, the guy who came in behind the old guy was getting beer out of the cooler and yelled, “Yee-ha!” loud enough to be heard three strip malls down, and the old man hissed from the counter where he had been waiting one second too long for his winning lottery ticket.

  The big cowboy’s head floated along above the deli counter, looking for all the world like a lit jack-o-lantern as he made his way toward checkout. “C’mon baby, check me out. I got some celebrating ta do what with you on the rise!”

  Saffron tottered, head pulled into her shoulders, toward the fuming old man. She thought she might faint. Oh, God, Coco, why can’t you shut your big mouth? Why are you so loud? Then Saffron remembered school. She remembered Coco in the halls when classes changed, how Coco screamed and caterwauled with her friends, how the whole undulating sea of people yelled over each other, throwing their big voices around and around her head.

  Saffron braced herself on the counter and said…nothing. She just stared. The old man wouldn’t look at her. He glared at Coco with all of his seventy years of hardcore, praise-Jesus training. Saffron gingerly took the ticket he pushed toward her on the counter. It was a four-dollar winner.

  “Wha….” She stammered and before she could get out more than that….

  “Two more,” he barked. He looked Coco up and down, up and down, his lip in a snarl. He grabbed the new tickets from Saffron’s shaking hand and stalked out.

  “Have fun, Roger! Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy. Mercy on your old gambling ass, I mean!” Coco snickered with the cowboy.

  Saffron held fast to the counter, her face frying, and her gut wrenching. Oh, Coco! Shut up!

  “Now you keep me posted,” drawled the cowboy. He tweaked Coco’s nose, tipped his hat to them both, and left.

  “Definitely.” Coco waggled her fingers goodbye.

  Saffron couldn’t look at her.

  “My heart is all a-dither.” Coco slapped Saffron on the back, “C’mon, let’s go stock the cooler.”

  Saffron sighed. It would be such a relief to get Coco’s mouth into a small, insulated place. As they shelved milk from crates and Nesquick from boxes, Coco told Saffron about her big plan. Periodically they peeked between the cooler shelves for incoming customers.

  “Ya’ know Busties, right?”

  Saffron shook her head ‘no.’

  “Yeah ya do; that’s the strip joint down near the new green gas station.”

  Saffron frowned and put another gallon of 2% up.

  “Well, those girls in there are makin’ a lot of money. I mean a lot.”

  Saffron wiped the sweat off her brow with the back of her sleeve.

  “…but you know who’s makin’ more? Busty his own self!”

  Saffron wiped down the next shelf, moved on to the Tropicana.

  “I went down there to apply, for a job ya know, and Busty told me my jubs didn’t cut it…go get the mop by the back door.” Coco scowled at the orange juice Saffron just spilled all over the concrete cooler floor.

  Saffron scurried out. Coco’s frown cleared and she started to follow Saffron, to hold the cooler door open so she could continue her story as Saffron retrieved the mop. She had to yell, of course, to be heard over the engines in the back room. They were wicked loud. “So all I have to do is save enough money at this job so I can get the operation.” Crash! Crash! Coco ran toward the noise. “You okay? What are you doin’?”

  Saffron appeared from behind a stack of cardboard boxes.

  “Lemme see
that.” Coco took the mop handle. She pulled, then pushed at it to roll it with its bucket into the cooler. Saffron picked up the juice jug and gawped at the cap that had blown off when she had dropped the thing.

  “Bring that up front when we go, we have to account for it.”

  Saffron nodded.

  “They don’t mess with your nipples or nothin’”

  Saffron overturned a milk crate, fell into a sitting position, and ground her fists into her eyes.

  “You got itchy eyes?”

  Saffron didn’t answer.

  Coco didn’t care. “So if I have a kid later, and wanna breastfeed they said that’s still possible.” She snorted. “But then again, I know this chick that went down to South America to get it done cheap. Oh, my God, you shoulda seen what they did to her nipples…” Then Coco went on to discuss.

  They moved out and on to sanitize the coffee pots. They made fresh Hazelnut, Columbian, French Vanilla, Caramel Cream, and Chocolate Raspberry brews. When the coffee was done, they each filled a cup for themselves. Saffron liked it with so much cream she had to put it in the microwave to bring it back to hot. Coco drank it black.

  “Because Busty is like in his late seventies and he ain’t gonna live forever, I figure,” and here her eyes actually gleamed, “that I’m gonna do a real good job dancing, keep on Busty’s good side, save my money…and buy the joint when he goes to sell! Pretty good, huh?” She smiled and she was beautiful, almost angelic. “I’ve got it all up here.” She tapped her forehead. “I can support myself.”

  Saffron cleared her throat. Her pipes were rusted from having been silent for so long. She leaned forward and triple-checked to make sure the store was really empty. “Aren’t you afraid of what people are going to say about you?” She whispered to make sure even the cockroaches couldn’t hear her.

  The corner of Coco’s mouth pulled up as her eyebrows lowered. “I only care what I think of me. I’m not out there sellin’ drugs, stealin’, killin’, hurtin’ anybody.” She poked her chest with one red, lacquered thumbnail. “I’m a good person.”

  Saffron didn’t blink.

  Coco gave her a funny look. “Anyway, we forgot to switch out the whipped cream - that entire row is expired. Be right back.”

  Saffron turned to even out the tails of the rolls of lottery tickets and restock cigarettes. While she was considering dusting the candy, a small voice scratched out behind her. Saffron made a little ‘yip’ noise and turned to see who was there.

  It was a little, old woman. Her back was bent but there was a smile on her wrinkled-apple face. She pushed a can of tomato soup across the counter. “Ooo, hoo. Scared ya, didn’t I?”

  Saffron stared at the soup can and mumbled, “Yeah. No. It’s okay. One twenty five, please.” Where had this old biddy come from? Saffron didn’t hear the ting-a-ling. She was mad at herself for zoning out again.

  The ancient woman reached into a macramé purse.

  In the cooler, Coco was just reaching for the last can of whipped cream. She happened to look at Saffron at the register counter, and saw her talking to herself and reaching out as if to take money from someone. Coco pulled her chin back into her neck and squinted, her hand stalled in mid-grab. She continued to watch as Saffron appeared to be making a transaction by taking money that wasn’t there and giving nothing back to a person that wasn’t there.

  Coco shrugged. Saffron must be practicing. She came out of the cooler, her eyes on Saffron the entire walk back to the counter. “Whataya doin? Practicin’?”

  Saffron had no idea what Coco was talking about, so she did what she always did when she didn’t want to continue a conversation - she agreed with a nod and a deer-in-the-headlights stare. Saffron never heard the old lady leave.

  Chapter 6

  When Saffron woke up the next morning, rain was pummeling the window. She’d had another dream, but this time it was different. Strange, because the dream took place in her room, not some obscure land in some far-distant time, and strange because she was herself in the dream and she was dressed and she wasn’t having sex, watching someone having sex, or anticipating having sex.

  She dreamed she opened her eyes, looked at the clock - the red digital display read 3:32am - and watched as an elderly, black couple strolled across her floor and straight out through the opposite wall. He was talking about the stock market crash. He was dressed in a pressed suit and derby and she in a flower-patterned, shin-length dress and straw hat. Saffron had blinked twice, then rolled over. The next thing she knew she was awake and remembering.

  She got up and took a shower. It was her habit to dry her body with the shower curtain still closed, wrap her hair in one towel, and wrap her body in another before she opened the curtain to step out. She told herself she did this to preserve the shower steam and keep herself warm while she was drying.

  She opened the curtain. There was a little boy standing before the toilet, dropping in pennies. She screamed and slipped to the tub floor. Slowly, she raised her head and peeked over the edge. He looked at her, then vanished.

  Saffron heard Audrey come running and throw the door open. “What? What?” Audrey looked haggard and frantic.

  “Nothing.” Saffron ground through clenched teeth. “Mom, I’m naked.”

  “And underneath my Muumuu I am too, so what?” Audrey shot back and slammed the door.

  Saffron didn’t move. She bit her bottom lip. I’m really not the kind of girl that could handle this, she thought as she swallowed repeatedly at the walnut-sized lump in her throat. The air changed suddenly and she froze as she sat in the tub in her wet towel. Static zapped her tongue when the little boy walked through the bathroom door, straight at her, and through her. This time she held the scream in with both hands.

  ***

  One day passed, and two more. There were ghosts everywhere. Gremlins or some little monsters just like them in the trash, gnomes in the garden, elves in the woods, pixies in the treetops. Whenever Saffron saw something otherworldly, she ignored it by letting her hair fall over her eyes. She’d scrunch her head up into her shoulders like a turtle.

  Work became a little difficult because she was never sure if a customer was dead or not unless Coco talked to him first. Still, at least twice, Saffron got caught up in the moment and started interacting with things Coco knew weren’t there. Then Saffron would wince and pretend it was all a joke while watching the disgruntled ghost out of the corner of her eye as he or she tried to press their ghostly money on her or persist in a conversation about the weather.

  One night, Saffron had a dream about a woman who was to marry. The bride and the groom were both of patrician families and proud of their upper-class standing in society. His family knew Caesar! She was already rubbing elbows with dignitaries! She was content in this knowledge, knowing that their relationship with political powers would fortify her marriage.

  Her step was light as she passed the formal gardens and geometrically-arranged hedges of his parent’s property. She knocked on the sea-weathered door, drew her hand back and gingerly fingered her exposed collarbone with soft fingers.

  She was a pleasant looking girl with strong facial features delicately balanced by fine, heart-shaped lips. Her obsidian hair flowed thick down her back, bound loosely by a few golden cords given to her by her love as a token of his affection. She was a bit tall and angular for the fashion of the time, but this did not seem to bother her betrothed. He loved her anyway, he always assured her. She was filled with giddy anticipation for this visit. She had decided to give herself to him before the wedding. He had been so patient with her these past few months. He had begged for her acquiescence on only a few occasions and with only a little anger.

  He did not answer the door. She knocked again and waited, shivering with nervous, sexual energy. No answer. She waited. Should she search him out? Maybe he wasn’t home. She decided to enter, just to make sure. She pushed the heavy wood door open and stood in the cool alcove. After a beat, she heard the squeals and giggles of
several female voices. She stopped. These were not the voices of his sisters. Not the voice of his mother. And what was the strange smell in the air? She walked slowly, her fine-tooled sandals making not a sound on the stone floor. The liquid heat of anticipation melted away and left her with a sodden chill, chasing the warmth of the day right out of her bones. She frowned. She couldn’t figure for the life of her who those women might be.

  She walked past several doorways of luxurious rooms awash with vividly painted frescoes. His family’s home was typical of the upper class, consisting of many rooms designed around an atrium open to the heavens above. She padded silently along the tiled floor patterned with the swirling blues of the ocean and sky.

  Another giggle. A sigh. The voice of her love growling like a bear. She stopped again, frozen in time. Her hand flew to her throat and an icy dread crawled across her body like fouled trough water.

  Leave!

  She stood motionless except for kneading the skin at her throat.

  Move! Find out!

  She walked forward, toward the sound of the joyful voices, toward the bedchamber of her love. She adjusted her flowing, white robes, stood up straight, and rounded the corner.

  There they were. Bodies. She couldn’t count how many. Female bodies. They were jumping on his bed, rolling around in his bed, rolling around him. Flashes of twisted limbs and dark hair on snow-white skin. Him, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as if he were a slobbering glutton. The stink of hot, perfumed skin and that something else. His dark blue eyes flashed under his long lashes before he slapped the naked rump of one of them. She was small, beautiful, and curvaceous. She turned on him like a ravaged animal, bit his cheek, and left a mark. All the while, they writhed.

  The woman pulled her head from the doorway. She stood off to the side and backed herself up to the cool, stone wall. With wretched little choking sounds, she tried to catch her breath. She raised her hand to her mouth as if to stop an outpouring of bile. No one had seen her.