Anna Snoekstra - Little Secrets

Wringing out the cloth in the sink, she watched the gray water squeezing out from the fibers. She rinsed it, letting the water absorb, wrung it out again and then hung it over the tap to dry. The detergent and grit made the skin on her hands feel tender. She wiped them on her shorts, trying to push herself to remember to put on hand cream before she went to sleep. She was always forgetting, and her flesh sometimes got so dry that the skin around her fingernails would crack.

She watched Rose out of the corner of her eye as she dried glasses, the cloth squealing against the glass. Rose never had problems with dry skin. For the tiniest of moments, she felt a pang of jealousy. Rose was so beautiful. If she wanted to, she could get any guy she liked. She could quit this place and start a family and be looked after. But Mia wasn’t a jealous person. She hated negativity, especially in herself, and she loved Rose more than anything. She put the glass down and went over to her, resting her head on Rose’s shoulder. Rose gripped her in a one-armed hug. Their skin stuck together slightly from sweat but Mia didn’t mind. She loved being close to Rose. It held the darkness that she sometimes felt at bay.

“I’m going to miss you when you’re famous.”

“Shut up,” said Rose, but she squeezed her tighter.

They laughed and Mia picked up her rag again. She sprayed down the counter, the bleachy disinfectant stinging her nostrils, and wiped away the beer rings that had dried and gone sticky.

Steve Cunningham came in, a huge grin on his face. This was unusual.

He walked straight up to Mia and slapped a fifty-dollar bill on the bar. “A round for the boys on me.”

A low cheer came from Bazza’s table, and Mia began pouring the drinks, lining them up next to Steve’s note. Steve awkwardly gripped three in his hands and brought them over to the table.

“Is there something to celebrate?” she heard Frank ask.

“Not yet, but maybe,” Steve said, leaning with both hands on the back of a chair. “My application for a review of the shale mine’s gone through. They’re sending someone next month to survey it.”

“Great job, mate,” Bazza said.

“Knew you’d come through.”

They cheered their drinks, glass clicking against glass, and Mia turned away from them.

“Do you remember how we used to play at the mine?” Mia asked. “It’s weird that it used to be a fun place.”

“Yeah,” Rose said. “Are you thinking about him again?”

“No,” Mia told her, “not really. It’s just weird to think about what that place was like before.”

“It was always pretty horrible.”

Mia wasn’t sure if she agreed. She’d go visit the place sometimes, think about his final moments. Right after graduation, her high school boyfriend had disappeared for three days. They found his body at the bottom of the mine. He’d jumped.

“Cover for me,” Rose said from behind her.

Rose was looking at her phone, a shocked look on her face as she rushed out to the back hallway.

For a fleeting moment, Mia wondered who it could be to warrant that look of exhilaration. Her fingers went to the rose quartz that she wore on a chain around her neck, holding the cold rock, trying to find comfort.

“Tell Steve,” she heard Baz say to Frank. Then he turned to Steve. “Honestly, you won’t believe this one.”

“Why don’t you tell him?”

“You tell it better.”

“All right,” Frank said, and Mia leaned forward to listen. She’d heard them all laughing about something before, but hadn’t caught what it was.

“So we get a call out to the wildlife sanctuary out in Baskerton.”

“Yeah?”

“When we get there it’s bloody mayhem. Ambulances, Japanese tourists running around screaming. It’s nuts. So we find this kid.”

“That poor kid,” Buddy added.

“He’s got his uniform on, probably only fifteen, and he’s just standing there, walking real slow in the grass. We make him give us a statement. He tells us a group of Japanese businessmen had come in from the city, wanted to see some real deal fauna.

“So he’s showing them around. Telling them all about the mating practices of tiger snakes, or some such shit. But all they want to see is the kangaroos, you know?”

Steve nodded, already smiling, waiting for the punch line.

“So he brings these bloody idiots into the field where the roos are. They’ve got a red one there. Huge. Taller than Baz here. So the boss is trying to be the big man, you know. So he gives his camera to this poor kid and keeps going.” Frank put on a terrible Japanese accent. “Hoi take my photo, hoi!

“The kid is telling him not to get too close,” Frank continued. “But he wants his picture, you know?

“So he gets real close to the big red. Puts his fists up, posing, like he’s fighting it. The red’s not bothered, just chewing away, ignoring him. The kid’s telling him to keep his distance, but the guy keeps saying ‘Take my photo, take my photo,’ and all the other guys are laughing along. They’d probably been drinking.

“The guy gets even closer, fists in the air, and the roo, he doesn’t even look at him, just swipes. Just one swipe.”

“And?” said Steve.

“Pulled his eyeball out.”

The guys cracked up laughing.

“That’s what the kid was doing. The red had jumped off when everyone started screaming. He was looking for it in the grass. The eye.”

Frank banged on the table and took a swig of his beer, and all the men started snorting with laughter again.

“So did you find it?” Steve asked.

Mia went back to drying glasses; the image of a bloodied eyeball in the dry grass was enough. She didn’t want any more details to add to the visual.

Father came up to the bar, looking a bit white. He annoyed Mia, although she would never admit it. He was a really friendly man with the kindest eyes she’d ever seen, but he was just too damn nice. It made her feel guilty for everything unchristian she had ever done, or even thought. It was as if he could sense her jealousy and that was why he’d appeared. To remind her that it was a sin.

He put five empty beer glasses on the bar. He always did that, collected the glasses from the other guys so that she and Rose didn’t have to.

“Thanks,” Jean said, coming in from the office and picking the glasses up between her fingers and taking them to the dishwasher.

Mia began pouring him a soda, the spits of fizz hitting her fingers as it reached the top. The guy spent so much time in the tavern, yet he never drank alcohol.

“Are priests not allowed to drink?” she asked.

“Mia!” Jean turned around and looked at her sharply.

“I’ve been dying to ask!”

Father just smiled. “It’s not prohibited, but I prefer not to. Plus, one of the boys usually needs a lift home.”

She smiled at him as he took the soda and returned to his seat. He was so charitable; it was next level. Although part of her thought maybe he just got a bit lonely hanging out in the church by himself. She imagined it would be pretty creepy there alone at night.

Jean stood close to her, her bosom pushing warmly onto Mia’s arm.

“I’ve been dying to ask too,” she said quietly, in that scratchy voice of hers.

Mia suppressed a giggle as Jean went back into the office. She pulled the wet, fogged-up glasses from the washer, shutting the lid with her foot. Bazza caught her eye and smiled at her, warmly. Why had it taken her so long to notice what a great guy he was? Maybe it was because of the way Frank talked about him as if he was an idiot. Rose as well.

Mia used to have a crush on Jonesy. He was a cop too, on highway patrol. He was a tall, thin guy, his clothes always looking too short at the ankles but too wide at the waist. Somehow, he always gave Mia the impression that he was laughing at her. One drunken night, she’d given him a blow job around the back of the tavern. He’d gone out for a smoke and she’d pretended that she wanted one too. When she’d taken a puff she’d started coughing. He’d raised his eyebrow at her, told her she was cute and somehow they were kissing before she even knew it. The taste of tobacco in his mouth made her eyes water.