Little Secrets. Anna Snoekstra
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couldn’t imagine anything less romantic. The concrete was cracked and uneven, and the large metal Dumpster stank, even when it was empty. The thing had probably never been cleaned. It smelled like sweet, rotting rubbish and made her want to gag. There was no light out there except for the streetlights around the front and the light that spilled from the open door down the four cement steps. Rose let the bag slide down the steps next to her, then picked it up and hurled it into the Dumpster. She heard it hit the bottom with a heavy thump like a bag of flour, or a dead body. Rose wanted to laugh. It would be great for her career if she found a dead body out the back here, but unluckily for her, it hadn’t happened yet. Although, Jean had told her she’d found a dead cat in there once. She’d said that when she picked it up it was as stiff as a brick. Rose slapped her hands together and walked back inside.
As she passed Will’s door, her curiosity overwhelmed her. She knocked, wondering if he was even inside. The squeak of the bedsprings told her that he was. She thought about running. It was too late. He opened the door a crack, smiling slightly when he saw her.
“Housekeeping,” she said, sarcastically, trying to look past his head into the room.
“I’m fine for now, thanks.” He smiled and went to shut the door in her face.
“Are you sure?” she said, before he could.
“Yes.” His smile widened. “You know, I can’t decide if you are trying to be very helpful, or if I’ve done something to piss you off.”
She blinked. Usually she was the confrontational one.
“Just trying to be helpful,” she said, shooting him a huge, fake grin, then turning to walk away. He might be the weirdest guy she’d ever met. The way he’d hidden his bedroom from her, it was like he didn’t want her to see past him, like he was hiding something. She imagined his room was filled with porcelain dolls and snorted back a laugh as she walked back to the bar. The dolls had only started appearing when he arrived. It was definitely possible, although not very likely. Journalist Uncovers Weirdo Doll Lover Tormenting Town. Now, that would be a good story.
“I’m seeing something really special here,” Mia said, staring at the leftover foam in Bazza’s empty beer glass.
“Really?” He leaned forward. She showed him, and his face screwed up as he looked inside. She noticed the way the light lit up the fine hair of his eyelashes.
She leaned closer. “See that line of foam across there.” She pointed at the line near the top of the glass.
“Yeah.”
“That’s your heart line.”
“Really?”
“Look.” She let her voice go really quiet so he’d get closer. “It’s unbroken.”
“Is that good?” He looked up at her.
“It’s really good. It means you’re going to find love. Soon.”
He looked between the line and her. She grabbed an empty glass and flicked on the tap, smiling at him, trying to beg him with her eyes to ask her out. He didn’t seem to notice.
“Thanks,” he said, when she put his beer in front of him. “I wonder what this one will say.”
He left her a tip and went back to his seat next to Frank. Her heart sank a little bit. Had he seen what she was doing and not asked her out anyway? She wasn’t sure if her advance had been rejected or not, but either way she could feel the sting.
“You know, I think he does like you,” Rose said, coming up next to her. “He looks at you like you’re beautiful—he was doing it last night at the gas station too.”
“What, like that?” Mia said, and they both looked to Frank, who was staring at Rose, his eyes soft.
“Yeah,” Rose said and turned away defensively.
Mia sighed and propped herself up on the bar. “Bazza’s dumb but so hot. It’s the perfect combination,” she said wistfully. “I think he’d make a great husband.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Rose said with disgust.
“Nope,” she said, then flicked Rose with the wet, dirty rag in her hand. It left a gray smear on her thigh.
“Yuck!”
“Streets of Fire” came on and Mia started humming along under her breath. She didn’t understand why Jean didn’t play a more varied mix of music, but she didn’t question it. If Jean wanted to listen to Bruce Springsteen every single night, then that was her choice. It had irritated her at first, but after a while she’d begun to enjoy knowing exactly what to expect out of her evenings. Unlike Rose, she quite liked working at Eamon’s. When she was here, she could just focus on each task: pouring beers, serving meals, mopping the floor, and not worry about the past or the future.
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