wr_post31:subj_fict

PERMISSION TO TREAT THE WITNESS AS HOSTILE...

We don't talk to her anymore because she stole from us. That's what my momma says. I'm not supposed to ask her what she stole. I asked once. I'm not supposed to ask.
The last time I saw her she was wearing overalls. She walked funny like one leg was heavier. She didn't look back either and when she was gone around the bend I stayed looking. I guess in a lot of ways, I'm still standing there looking for her. Momma doesn't remember who she is. I'll bet momma doesn't even know what she stole from us no more. But I'm not supposed to ask. She still knows that.
When you lose someone...in that situation. You need each other. It's too much for one person. One person has to hide away and lose themselves to keep from drawing attention. Two people hold each other up. She couldn't hold me. Momma wouldn't hold me. She stole from us and I'm not supposed to ask.

I haven't been working here long. Long enough to find a room above the store that no one cleans. Sometimes Randall puts things up there during the night when he's supposed to be stocking. Small things that he clips from the newspapers the fruit is wrapped in. I can sneak away there when I get ahead in tagging the cans. Mr. Munro doesn't know that I'm up there because I tell him I have a week heart and need to sit down sometimes. When I'm up there in my room, it smells like Randall. I think about his hands when he clips the paper. About the shiny handles of the scissors wrapped around his fingers and thumbs. Of the sound of feet in fall leaves as the blades make something ordinary into something cherished. I don't know how to make things special. I just look through other peoples collections. Momma has a shelf full of angel babies. I'm not supposed to touch them.

Two of the times when I got scared I tried to tell Momma, but I don't tell her anymore. I sleep under the old newspapers and try to imagine someone who will make it better. One of the times I got scared it was because I saw her. Or I thought I saw her. She was buying stockings. I was upstairs touching Randall's clippings. I could see her at the register through the boards in the wall. I wanted to say something, but I'm not supposed to talk to her. I'm not supposed to ask why either. I remember not to ask.