Lindsay: A Short Story

Words: 1792
Pages: 8

Lindsay. Always so quiet, so insecure, no real friends, no real known dreams. And who was the father, really? Some thought she had gotten raped, used this story about the college boy as an excuse because she was embarrassed. But some thought it was somebody’s husband--Lindsay a lonely closet slut.
When she finished high school, had the baby, she worked doubles at Cleary's most days and that’s how she knew what everyone thought. She overheard her co-workers. She felt her customers’ words, spoken moments before she had placed their food or drinks in front of them. They looked away from her, a little embarrassed, hoping she hadn't known what they were thinking or saying. But she did and really, she could care less. Her life became a big blob
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She thought of his dimple. His dark, greasy hair. How he drank so much, but was so put together, the alcohol only affecting his breathe, his drowsy eyes. She tasted him too-- in the late hours of the night when she walked home from the bar alone-- his tongue, slimy, moving along her back teeth. Toothpaste and beer and stale, sad air. She imagined his hands moving over her body and his large, thin hands making her feel like she mattered. All the atoms that made her up, thrived, glowed like his pale skin. She had a purpose. Even if it was just pleasing him, asking him things no one else did. Lindsay also knew this was the worst thing she could ever do. This was what she had heard they advised not to do in the grieving process-- pretend like that person still existed. Because they didn’t. They never would. She never thought it would be Norma who woke her up, who stuck that burning rod ontop of her flesh, forcing her to feel something again. Someone who was insignificant all her life. That woman who stood in the back room, eyeing her suspiciously if she got in late. The nicest thing she had ever done was pick the glass out of her cut up hands that night River threw the glass. Any other time, they moved past each other speechless, hungry for tips, willing the night to move quickly so they could walk out of Cleary's with their aprons full of