Kat

It was going to be a long shift.

Kat watched as Lucy stormed off into the back room, the swinging doors fluttering behind her. They hadn’t really spoken since the seance, and this seemed pointed. Just another dance at the pity party.

Kat, despite herself, almost forgave Lucy more times than she could count. But her mind kept going back to the same question: had Lucy believed it?

Was it a prank or something more?

If she thought it was real, was that even worse? Had she sat Kat down in the dark in the spot she honestly believed Rodney had…

It didn’t bear repeating. After days of wrestling with it, she was no closer to a resolution.

The heat in her chest, the pressure in her head, it was close to boiling over.

As much as she had said that night, her heart yearned for more.

Kat had more yelling to do before she could go back to speaking civilly.

Still, when she saw Daisy hesitate and ultimately fail to go to Lucy’s aid. She almost caved. Nearly marched to the back room to console her.

Kat opened the cash and counted it again. It wasn’t needed, but she needed a distraction.

Before long, the chime of the register was followed by the ding of a notification.

Weren’t you on silent?

Still, only one customer checking out the sunglass display. She had time.

Kat snuck a peek at her cell.

It was Tom, and he was on his way to a pub outside of Blackstone. Some dive called The Picket Fence.

Her thumbs set to work.

“Why are you heading to a pub? Even in Blackstone, they’ll check your ID.”

“It’s about Rodney. It’s weird, but I think I might find him there.”

That didn’t make sense. Unless Kat had misunderstood, Rodney was Tom’s age.

“Wait, are you driving there now?”

There was a pause long enough for Kat to surmise the answer.

“Yeah”

“Don’t text and drive!”

Kat flinched and stepped back. Her cut was pressing against the counter, still raw despite her careful treatment.

Time doesn’t heal all wounds.

She hated distracted driving.

“I was at a red. Talk later.”

And now the pull of social norms were at it again. She didn’t want him to stop talking to her, she just wanted him to be safe.

Also, was he annoyed?

Everyone was so on today.

Kat was happy not talking to Lucy, but Daisy was strangely quiet too.

If Tom started being distant as well, then she’d have no one to talk to.

One more text couldn’t hurt.

“Okay, call me when you get there. I worry.”

A pointed cough drew her attention.

On the other side of the counter was a familiar middle-aged fisherman setting a six-pack of beer down on the counter. In sadly typical fashion, even though all the cans were closed, he already reeked of the stuff.

Kat scanned the beers.

“How was the water today?”

“Nothing but perch today…but they’ll fry well enough.”

“Beer batter, I take it?”

He squinted, the harsh white light accentuating the pot marks on his face. Like a stern, half-cut lunar body.

“No.”

He tapped his card and left.

“Have a good night,” Kat called after him.

Literally everyone was moody.

Maybe if I didn’t try so hard, people wouldn’t treat me like a doormat.

She thought back to her childhood, the skinned knees and bruises she got on the playground.

You could have avoided that if you’d just left well enough alone.

But she couldn’t, at least not back then. When she saw something, she spoke, and she’d get a lecture for it from her teachers and another from her mother. But in the quiet, when it was her and dad, he told her how proud he was.

“Being kind is never convenient; it’s a full-time job, and the pay is terrible. But it’s still worth doing.”

She could still hear his soft voice in her mind, especially in the night’s quiet.

But would he still be proud of her?

After he was gone, she’d lost her voice. Kat hardly stood up for herself, let alone others. She wasn’t sure she was kind anymore, just nice. Kindness, but just for show. Kindness passed through a sieve. All the grit removed and milled into a palatable product.

He never faltered; he always did his best by people.

But where did that get him?

Kat sighed. She could also hear her mother’s voice on command. The other practical, negative, realistic voice in her head.

Her mother never inconvenienced herself for others, but she’d also never had to take a hit.

Except one.

Kat pulled her phone back out and saw that her last text wasn’t read.

She scrolled through the options and deleted it.

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