Page 50 of Jar of Hearts
“Stop that now. There’s no connection.” Cliff Heller looks at Geo, sees her face and shirt covered in coffee, and digs into his pocket. He hands her a wrinkled handkerchief, and Geo takes it without comment, wiping her face as best she can. “She’s been in prison. She can’t have contact with anyone while she’s in there. She’s not involved in what happened to those people.”
“You don’t know that.” Mrs. Heller, emboldened by her outrage, takes another step toward Geo. Her husband holds her back. “Nobody knows anything about who she really is. You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” she says again.
“I am ashamed,” Geo says.
“How dare you come back here?” Roberta Heller’s voice is a few decibels shy of a shriek. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“Please,” Cliff Heller says, but he’s speaking to Geo now. “Please, go inside the house. Leave the pressure washer out. I’ll clean your garage door; I would have offered, anyway. Please, Georgina.”
She nods and leaves the man to deal with his obnoxious wife. They continue to argue in the driveway for another moment, and then finally Mrs. Heller stomps back across the street, bathed in her own indignation. Mr. Heller, glancing around furtively in embarrassment, turns on the pressure washer.
Her father is home for lunch an hour later, armed with tacos and French fries. Geo, dressed in a clean shirt, accepts the food gratefully. When Walt asks her how her morning’s been, she shows him her new cell phone, almost identical to the one he owns. She doesn’t mention the bank, or the graffiti, or Roberta Heller. If he noticed the wet driveway when he pulled in, he doesn’t say anything.
When they’re finished eating, she cleans up.
“I have to get back to the hospital,” he says with some regret. “What will you do for the rest of today?”
“I thought I’d take a walk,” she answers. “To Rose Hill.”
It’s the cemetery where her mother is buried, and that coaxes a smile out of the normally stoic Walt. Grace Gallardo Shaw is buried under a tree, her headstone made of polished white marble. It’s the prettiest spot on the hill.
“Stop at the corner market and bring her some daisies,” he says, squeezing her arm. “You remember how much she loved daisies.”
Geo nods and returns the smile. She doesn’t remember, she was too little, but she knows it comforts her dad to believe that she does.
At the market on the way to the cemetery, she picks out two different bouquets of flowers from the bins out front, paying in cash because her old debit card is expired and she forgot to get a new one at the bank. The daisies, of course, are for her mother.
The wildflowers, colorful and fiery with their pinks and oranges and yellows, are for Angela. She, too, is buried at Rose Hill, but on the other side.
19
Things were testy with Angela ever since their argument at practice the week before, but Geo took Calvin’s advice and kept her distance. Angela lived for drama, some of it real and most of it imagined, and it was best to let her cool off.
On the third day, unable to stand it any longer, Geo worked up the courage to ring Angela’s doorbell after school, two Slurpees from the 7-Eleven in hand. Grape for Angela, of course. Blue raspberry for Geo.
She wasn’t entirely surprised when Kaiser opened the door. The poor guy had been trying to get them to speak to each other since their fight, without success.
“Thank fucking god,” he said when he saw her. “I can’t take it anymore.”
“Where’s Ang?”
“In the kitchen, looking in the fridge at food she won’t allow herself to eat. She’s doing her whole ‘I’m so fat’ thing right now. Come on in.” He stood aside to let Geo in, nodding his approval at the oversize containers filled with artificially flavored slush. “She might drink that, though. Where’s my Big Gulp?”
“Didn’t know you’d be here.” She stepped in and stood in the entryway awkwardly, unsure what to do. Angela came around the corner, stopping in her tracks when she saw Geo.
“Peace offering?” Geo said, holding out the grape Slurpee. She must have been squeezing too hard, because the lid popped off and grape slush seeped out the top and onto her hand.
“Oh, nice. Come on in and make a mess, why don’t you.” Angela had her high-horse voice going, as if nobody had ever spilled anything before.
Kaiser looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’ll get some paper towels,” he said, backing away. “When I get back in thirty seconds, I fully expect that the two of you will have made up, because you’re both killing me right now.”
Angela rolled her eyes, and Kaiser disappeared down the hallway.
“I came by to bring you this.” Geo offered her the Slurpee. It was dripping onto the floor, but Angela didn’t take it. “And to say that I’m sorry. Everything you said was right. I haven’t been myself lately, and that needs to change. I’ve been a shitty friend.”
“Yes, you’ve been a bitch,” Angela stated bluntly. Then her demeanor softened. “But I guess I was, too. I shouldn’t have yelled at you in front of the other girls. That wasn’t cool.”
“Thank god,” Kaiser said, coming back with a towel. “Is the Great Fight of St. Martin’s finally over?” He took Angela’s drink and wiped it, then handed Geo the towel so she could clean the floor.
