To Keep You

Ten: Olive

Being the chatterbox she is, she took the bait, "Well, since we're in the park, I might as well introduce you to a few people..." She trailed off as she began to scan folks who passed us.

A cold sweat broke out across my forehead, for I'm in no state to be paraded around like a new shiny toy. I'm lucky enough to have been able to escape the hospital without being spotted by any of the reporters. If anyone were to recognize me, then surely a panic attack is due to rise from within me.

As if sensing my panic, she offered a gentle smile before leaning over towards me, "It's okay, I'll just point them out."

Because words refused to form upon my tongue, I simply nodded while she chose her first victim.

"Oh! That's Scarlett Willow." She pointed her chubby finger towards a tall brunette who was storming toward us. Standing around five-six, she was a rather tall woman, and in a pair of black-heeled-boots, she was even taller. She wore a white sweater that she had tucked into black flared lacks, along with a thin brown belt and a gold buckle. Her outfit was also made up of pure emerald jewelry. Her make-up was light yet neatly done, and her dark hair was pulled back into a ballerina bun. Hanging from her arm was a rather expensive looking leather handbag that looked to cost more than tuition at Harvard.

She was put-together, to say the least.

"She's the richest woman in this town, and oh boy, she lets you know it." Roxelana snickered while the woman or rather Scarlett stormed past us as if the world was on fire and she was the only available firefighter. She barely even looked at us, yet there was a judgmental expression burned into her features.

Even though she had passed us, Roxelana continued, "She's anaphylactic to nearly everything, nuts, fish, diary, etc. You name it, her body tries to kill her if she eats it." She shook her head with a sympathetic smile, "She moved here from Las Vegas last year, and rumor has it she was married to a well-known doctor but one day she just upped and divorced him. And before the ink was even dried on the papers, she was on an plane here."

As if a pig had found it's well into her throat, she snorted, "Rumor also has it that she was once a lawyer, but now she's just a wealthy prude who doesn't involve herself in anything. None of the charity boards here have been able to get her to join or at least donate, she's rather selfish with her money and even worse, she has OCD, which makes her even more distasteful to be around."

I found her words to be rather unfair and too harsh on Scarlett, but fearing I'll lose her as a friend, I bit my tongue and simply nodded along with the conversation.

"But enough of her...oh! Look, that's Eleanor Taylor!" Off in the distance, a woman was sitting in the grass while lifting leaves up to show a huddle of small children around her. She was pretty, with doe-like eyes hidden behind glasses, and like snowflakes scattered on her cheeks, she sported many freckles. Her dark blonde hair was braided into two braids, and she appeared to be over the moon in joy with simply speaking with the children.

"She's a schoolteacher, rather young in my opinion, barely even twenty-one and already has her own class." There was no judgment in Roxelana's words. However, I could sense some jealously, but I decided not to poke the bear while Rah'chayl is with us.

Ignoring my worried glances, Roxelana continued forth once more, "She's Miss perfect, as sweet as a bee until you get close, then she stings you in the back. She's the mayor's youngest daughter, and you know she once spread a rumor about my bakery! She claimed that my muffins were dry, so dry that they got caught in her throat! She warned all of her students' parents because she claimed that it was a health risk, a choking hazard!"

I frowned as she ranted, for if her muffins were anything like her pie, then I couldn't imagine them being dry. Perhaps it was just a misunderstanding? I didn't have time to truly ponder those thoughts as she was quick to point out another woman. This time, however, it was a young girl with bright pink hair. She wore daisy-duke style black jeans that barely covered anything. A white crop-top, bright red push-up bra, a couple of black chokers, gold hop earrings, a rose-gold belly-button ring, and an army jean jacket. While her make-up was brightly done with neon colors, she sported a bright red lipstick. She looked out of place in this family-oriented park. I felt cold for her, even though she seemed unfazed by the weather. She was surrounded by older women who dressed like her; however, they somehow took it to another level in their provocative clothing. I do not mean to sound judgmental, but oh lord, they look like they need to be standing on street corners as their breasts are nearly spilling out of their dresses!

They were all lounging around on a panic table. Unlike their fashion decisions, they appeared calm and even happy as they joked around with light banter as we passed.

"It's best that you just ignore those ladies." She frowned as the words flowed out as if they left a sour taste upon her tongue.

With the curiosity of a cat, I spoke for the first time in nearly an hour, "Why?"

Once more, she snorted, "Well, you see that girl with the pink hair? That's Penelope Clawwood. She's the sheriff's daughter. And at the ripe age of nineteen, she's already slept with half of the men in this town." Her face contorted into one of disgust as she proceeded on, "Her and those other women work at the gentlemen's club downtown. To why she throws her body to the wolves and ruins her father's shiny reputation is a mystery to all of us. But ever since she could walk, she's been nothing but trouble for this town. Stealing, vandalism, arson, etc. Name it, she's done it. The only thing she hasn't done is murder someone, and that could just be because we haven't found out yet!" She exaggerated with a loud unladylike snort before taking a long slip of her own drink.

As if a silent reminder to myself, I followed her lead and took a small slip of my luke-warm hot chocolate. I bit my tongue to resist groaning at the delicious taste. The drink was a mix of both dark and milk chocolate with hints of white chocolate and mint. Once more, this woman has outshined me at creating something as simple as hot chocolate. At this point, I don't think I have the nerve nor guts to tell her my profession, for she will probably just laugh in my face.

Lost in thought, we walked in silence for a few minutes before Roxelana pointed out yet another woman she knew. As we passed a bench with a young girl no older than sixteen, reading a book alone. Roxelana whispered, "That's Juliet Brown. Her father owns the museum and is the director of the state's historical society. They're both obsessed with history, so if you love your ears and sanity, you'll avoid ever getting into a conversation with them."

Even as we passed the bench, I couldn't help but glance back at the young girl who seemed too engrossed in her book to even care what was going on around her. For a teenage girl, she dressed rather modesty. A white turtleneck shielded her neck from view, as well as a thick light blue skirt covered most of her legs. She wore chunky brown ankle boots, and in a matching blue shade as her skirt, she wore a lightweight blazer. It appeared to be soft and comfortable.

"But oh, what a scandal her mother caused!" Her voice rose back to it's normal volume as we walked further away from Juliet. "I personally wasn't here when it happened, but the people here speak of it so often it sounds as if it were only yesterday when Mr. Brown came home and found Mrs. Brown in bed with his brother of all people!" As disgust formed on both of our faces she marched on, "Poor Juliet was only eight when it happened. Rumor has it that Mrs. Brown never wanted kids, but since Mr. Brown was the breadwinner, she feared he would divorce her if she didn't provide him with at least one child. The rumor also states that Mrs. Brown never bonded with Juillet and treated the family cat better than her. But after the scandal was leaked, she and Mr. Brown's brother hastily left town in the middle of the night and haven't been seen since."

After walking for some time, we finally found an empty bench and promptly seated ourselves. However, even as I sat down upon the bench, one of my hands remained locked onto the stroller, for I feared someone might try to steal my child.

Sighing softly, Roxelana looked longingly out over the park before us, "I guess Holyoke is just a town filled with washed-up people from all walking forms of life."

Moments of silence were shared between us before she turned to me with a soft smile, "I guess it's time for my story."

So, it is.