Cherry Pies, You and I (P.S the Devil Lies)

Black Coffee

In an effort not to stare at him, which was really hard to do as his hair fell over his face, she looked around and tried to think about the cleaning she had to do. Her gaze settled on the last piece of cherry pie in a glass cake dome on the counter. It would just go to waste if she didn't do something about it.

She opened the lid and packed it up into a small to-go bag. He handed her the receipt, and she handed him the bag in exchange.

"What's this?"

"Cherry pie," she answered him, "It's on the house."

He tried to shove the bag back into her hand, "I can't possibly accept-"

She cut him off, "It's the last piece. If you don't take it, it will just go to waste."

He somewhat reluctantly accepted her little gift.

"Welcome to New Orleans. There is no better place for adventure, or at least, that's what I've been told."

She was a little sad to see him go as he walked out the door. He was good company. She locked the front door behind him and watched as he got onto his motorcycle. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but it looked sleek and well cared for. He looked back at her just as she was flipping the sign on the window from open to closed. She smiled and raised her hand in a wave. He raised his hand in response and returned her smile. After a few moments of just staring at each other, he turned and took off down the street.

She stood there for a few moments more, staring into the darkness. Eventually, she returned to the counter where he left his receipt. She picked it up and examined it. His handwriting was bold, large, loopy, and cursive. There was the slightest indent in the paper from the pressure he put on it with the pen. For no particular reason at all, or at least that's what she told herself, she folded up the receipt, tucked it into her pocket, and went back to work. There was cleaning to be done.

It wasn't as tedious today, and she didn't know why. Maybe it was because she was in a good mood. Tonight was the first time she had laughed in a long time. There wasn't exactly much to make her laugh on her trip here from Greendale. She was constantly looking over her shoulder, and the old sitcoms that were always playing in the motels she was staying in were only funny for so long. Especially when you had no one to watch them with.

In her good mood, she was able to get most of the cleaning done by the time Marie arrived. The tables had been wiped down, the dishes had been washed, and the floor had been swept.

Marie entered through the back door like she always did on Wednesdays, "How was the rest of your evening chérie?"

Sabrina looked down at the coffee-stained apron floating in the sink below her. She had been scrubbing at it relentlessly for a few minutes, and the stain was only just starting to fade. She could see her reflection in the water, and just for a split second, she thought she could see her mother staring back at her.

"I had an incident with some coffee," she gestured to the apron in the sink, "but I guess I had a pretty good evening. How was mass?"

"It was good," Marie replied, "We will leave this to soak with some dish soap and some vinegar and the stain will be gone by morning."

"Thanks," she said, "Sorry if I ruined it."

"There is no need to apologize. These things happen."

She retrieved her purse as Marie turned off the lights and the stove. They made their way out to her car when a question popped into Sabrina's mind, "Marie, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"You already know about my parents, but I don't know anything about yours. What were they like?"

Marie smiled fondly, "My mother worked as a hairdresser. There were not a lot of salons that knew how to take care of black hair back then, so she was always busy, but she always made time for me. I remember how every Sunday after church, I would sit in front of her and she would comb and brush and twist my hair into the most beautiful styles to wear to school. While my mother was doing that, my father would be cooking Sunday dinner. The most wonderful smells would fill the house. He was the one who taught me how to cook."

They sounded like wonderful people. Wonderful people who raised another wonderful person. The kind of people that there should be more of in the world, "They sound amazing."

She nodded, "They were. My mother taught me to wear my hair with pride, and my father taught me the value of honest days' work and the importance of laughter. I miss them greatly."

Sabrina frowned. She didn't mean to make Marie sad, "I didn't mean to upset you."

"I am not upset, chérie, I am just wistful. Come now, it is late and we need our rest."

The drive home was uneventful. It was quiet again, but it felt different. It didn't bug her as she got out of the car, or as she sat down at the little desk in Marie's spare bedroom.

She pulled out a piece of paper from her bag and picked up a pen.

Dear Aunt Zee,

Today was a little better than yesterday. It's nice to know that I'm not the only one here who's running from something.

She pulled the receipt out of her pocket and examined it again. She traced the loop and curve of every letter with her eyes and ran her fingers over every indentation they made in the otherwise smooth paper.

Caliban King.