Good Things I'll Never Do Again

One: Welcome to Craptown

  "Never trust people who smile constantly. They're either selling something or not very bright." 

Laurell K. Hamilton  

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When someone has to ask you a question six times in ten minutes, there's either something wrong with your answers or there's something wrong with the person asking.

And there's nothing wrong with my answers.

I lean against the embroidery wall in Red Ribbon's Crafts, not even attempting to hide the exasperation on my face.

Mrs. Baxter stands in front of me holding a spool of orange felt in one hand, and red flannel in the other. "Now I just don't know," she murmurs. "Ray has always liked orange—he used to work in construction, you know. But red just seems more cozy—oh, and he has that lovely tablecloth that his wife made that looks just like this!"

"Look," I sigh, taking both spools from her and holding them out, "we all know Ray is in his nineties; he probably can't even see what colors these are anyway. Besides, he's probably on his way out the door, if you know what I mean." I shrug.

Mrs. Baxter gasps in horror. "Well! If that's the way you're going to treat your customer, I'll just go find Sacha instead!"

I breathe a sigh of relief. "Finally."

Mrs. Baxter spins on her heel and disappears down the tulle aisle.

I roll my eyes and turn back to the cart parked behind me. I continue stocking the embroidery ribbon. I would've already been done twenty minutes ago if Mrs. Baxter hadn't come to me with her felt/flannel ordeal.

To cheer myself up, I think of the Hamburger Helper dinner and Friends marathon I'm having tonight.

Sacha might come over too, though I don't count on it. Unlike me, she enjoys going to town events and tonight they're having a party for a veteran who's coming home. Or something like that.

It isn't that I'm socially incapable of going to events because I don't know anybody...the problem is that I know everybody in Chestnut Ridge. And, worst of all, they know me.

I'm Beverly Curie—daughter of Jane and Townsend Curie (worst parents ever). College dropout. Sister of Aimee Curie (most successful Curie who had the right sense to get out of Chestnut Ridge while she still could). I still work at my post-high school job at Red Ribbon's. No respectable hobbies. No friends (except Sacha). Overall failure.

But I know they only think that because I didn't live up to their standards. I didn't get married at twenty-two. I didn't have three kids by the time I was twenty-five. I'm not a bank teller or secretary or soccer mom.

Heaven forbid I don't change the sheets every week or put up a Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving!

So what if all I have in life is a minimum wage job and my overall attractive face to keep me going? That's more than most people can say.

Yet, I'm the only one in my family still stuck in Chestnut Ridge.

"Beverly?" Sacha peeks around the linens to see me. Her jolly face and ruddy cheeks are feverish with excitement.