Page 10 of The Tattered Gloves
“Is everyone here like that?” I finally asked after my mind circled a million times around the conversation I’d overheard in the office.
“Like what?” she asked. She casually dipped one of her French fries in some ketchup, waiting for me to reply.
“Nosy? I mean, those women in the office… the way they spoke about that kid after he left. Does everyone do that?”
She sat there, her French fry midway to her mouth, staring at me. I realized it was most likely the most words I’d strung together since I’d been here, so she was probably a little overwhelmed.
Yes, Addy, I can actually speak like a human being.
Surprise.
“I wish I could say no, but I think small-town life is going to be a bit of an adjustment for you. June…” She hesitated. “June is maybe an example of an extreme case. Honestly, that woman should have been fired long ago, and I swear, the only reason she and the old bat of a woman work in that office is because the gossip keeps them from dying of boredom.”
“It was unprofessional — what they said,” I responded, nearly interrupting her.
“It was,” she agreed. “And I’m not discounting that. Especially with a student in the room.” She paused once more, this time taking a sip from her nearly empty coffee cup.
I’d never seen anyone drink coffee with their lunch before, but Addy was currently on her third cup. If I had that much caffeine during the day, I thought, I’d be levitating by now.
“What you heard, it’s common knowledge around town. So, in June’s mind, it’s not gossip; it’s just a fact. Doesn’t make it right, but that’s how she sees it. However, whenever there is a crisis, those two crazy women are always first on the call list to offer assistance. So, you take the gossip with a grain of salt. Or at least that’s what I do.”
I didn’t say much after that, instead choosing to focus on my meal. Part of me was relieved to hear the women in the office had a giving side to balance out the gossip they’d been slinging in front of me.
But I wondered how far it reached.
If they knew where I’d come from, what I’d been through, would they be the first to offer a hand in my aid? Or would they turn their backs on me, like everyone else in my life?
Looking up at my aunt, I couldn’t help but ponder over the same sort of questions when it came to her.
Would she be there for me? If she knew?
