long?”
“No. Only a few minutes. No big deal. I’m not in a hurry.”
“Good. I thought you might have been.”
“Naw. Today my schedule is light . . . You hungry?”
With her unblemished olive complexion, heavy-lidded brown eyes, and long dark hair, Ashley considered Kitty to be modestly attractive. To be a knockout, she would have needed to apply more make up, got contacts, and learned hairstyling tips.
“I’m a little hungry,” Ashley confessed, eyeing a thick turkey sub that someone had at the next table over. “Except not for anything in here. For dinner tonight my mom is cooking roast beef.”
“Okay,” said Kitty, taking a tiny bite of potato salad. “Then I guess we should get down to business. You know the routine.”
“Yes.” Inconspicuously, Ashley slipped a plain white envelope underneath the table.
Without bothering to count it, Kitty tucked the cash into her purse. Then she passed Ashley the tan pill bottle.
“Awesome!” Ashley said, relieved. “Thanks. Hey, I was also wondering if you could get me some sleeping pills?”
“Sleeping pills, are you serious?”
“Uh huh. If you could I would really appreciate it. I don’t know what it is; I just can’t seem to turn my mind off lately.”
“Why do you think that is?” Kitty asked. “Is your baby keeping you up?”
“No. It’s not really that. I love my baby girl. Kimberly means the world to me. It’s just . . . I’m still having a lot of nightmares.”
“Because if it is your daughter keeping you up, that’s normal.”
Ashley sighed. She wanted to get back to the subject. “So does that mean you’ll hook me up? I’ll pay extra.”
“You couldn’t afford my fee.”
“Try me.”
After thinking it over, Kitty revealed her price. “I told you it’d be expensive.”
“No problem. I can cover that.” Then, as an afterthought Ashley added, “Yeah. I need something that’ll put me out completely. So I don’t have to hear the voices.”
“You hear voices?”
“Yes. Sometimes.” She was embarrassed.
“Whoa! What kind of voices?”
“Them . . . you know the men who raped me . . . Never mind.”
“Oh you poor dear.”
Ashley tried to explain that she wasn‘t crazy.
“I’ll tell you what,” Kitty said, groping through her bag again. “I’ll start you off with these.” Underneath the table she handed Ashley a second pill bottle. “These are from my own personal stash. They’ll put you to sleep in twenty minutes. Guaranteed! But don’t mix them with wine. Also, only take a couple at a time. I‘ll get you more in a few days. Consider that a sample.”
“Okay. You’re the best, Kitty. See you later.”
“You’ve got it.”
***
The old cemetery where Peter was buried was on the way home. Ashley decided to stop and visit his grave. Since his funeral, she’d been coming here once a month.
The cemetery, which had a creaky iron gate, was home to roughly three hundred graves, some dating as far back as the Revolutionary War.
When Ashley’s had stopped at her deceased husband’s tombstone, (1979-2003) she bent down and in front of it, placed a big bouquet of yellow roses.
“I thought you might like these,” she said. “It’s all I can do now, Peter. Is just keep bringing you flowers and pray that somehow you can hear me.” Her black sunglasses hid the tears in her eyes. “I hope you’re not disappointed in me. It’s not like I want to take the pills, and drink so much, it’s just I feel like I have to. For a little while anyway, until the pain goes away.”
As it often did whenever she came here, Ashley felt her heart thumping feverishly.
“A year ago,” she resumed, “all I ever worried about was money, and whether it would work out if we moved in with my mother. And if your parents would love the baby. Now you’re gone and I don’t have to worry about money anymore, at least not the way we used to.” She took off her shades briefly to dab, with a tissue, her
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