Close to the Bone

Part 2: Fifteen

Veronica looked for ways to find money in the world. Opportunity was not huge for an eleven-year-old in a backwater town, but with her newly opened ears, she discovered things. Babysitting was the easiest to find, but there were quicker tasks that paid close to the same and didn't involve diapers. She ran errands for some of the older ladies in her apartment building - going to the drugstore or the grocer. She walked dogs, fed cats for people out of town.

She watched the ground for loose change. She saved.

When she turned fifteen, thinking of that Other Veronica, she bought a purse, but not from the consignment store.

She hitched a ride with a friend's brother. Randy had a job picking up and delivering custom car parts for a couple of the local garages, and his work took him around to some of the neighboring towns. He was heading to a place that had one of those deep discount stores, the kind that looked like a dump truck had poured a bunch of merchandise in through the back door, and the customers had to dig around to find something good. When Veronica got there, she dug, and she found.

It was beautiful, leather with gold-tone hardware, and a fancy designer name stamped right in the middle of it. Veronica took it up to the register, so sure of herself, but when the cashier told her the total, she hesitated. The cashier repeated the total, annoyed, and Veronica's fingers handed the money over.

"Next in line!"

Veronica moved quickly to the exit. She stepped outside to look at the new purse, hold it, run her hands over it. The purse seemed alien to her. She'd never owned anything like it.

She felt a little sick, knowing that what she spent could have fed her and her momma for a week. But she did share her earnings, she did help pay the cell bill. Momma was happy that Veronica was making efforts, making her own money. The worry on momma's face stood for fewer things after Veronica started working.

"So shake that thought off," she said out loud, and eased the purse's strap over her shoulder. She sat on a bench outside the store, waiting for Randy to come back. A big, sleek, steel-blue car pulled into the parking lot. The plates were from the next state over, the state with the Big City flush with cash about three hours from her little town. Veronica guessed they were just passing through, just stopping for...whatever someone in a car like that stops for. Four young women climbed out, sleek and trim like the car, perfect hair, perfect clothes, perfect period.

"Just sunglasses, that's all we're looking for."

"That's what you said last time, and we waited for an hour."

"Yeah, but you got those shoes, so shut up."

Veronica squirmed on the bench, in her old jeans, slightly newer sweater, and overpriced purse. Her feet, with their worn sneakers, involuntarily tucked themselves far up underneath her seat.

"Someone is always going to have more than you," she remembered momma saying, "Be happy for what you have." Veronica wanted to crawl and hide with the things she had, but it didn't matter; the young women hadn't even glanced at her. She didn't usually feel anger or rage, but it flared up now, and she used it to push her head high, and press the tears back under her eyes, at least until Randy pulled up to the curb in his fifteen-year-old beater of a car, and she was safely inside.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, 'Ronica. What's this?" He looked shocked at the sight of all the tears, and maybe a little scared. "Didn't you get what you wanted?"

"No-o-o-o. I mean, yeah, I did. But then there were these girls, and they had EVERYTHING, like that Other Veronica, and I worked so hard for just one thing, and it feels so...so...useless! And horrible!" She sobbed harder.

"Uh...uh..." Randy struggled to understand what she was talking about as he pulled out of the parking lot. "What things? What everything? What Other Veronica?"

"Clothes, and shoes, and a car. They were from out of town. And young! How can they have all that when they're only, like, a few years older than me?"

"Oh. OH." Randy paused. "They can be like that, because their parents are like that. You don't get out of our town much, do you?"

Veronica shook her head.

"Yeah, OK, look, 'Ronica - hard work, work-your-fingers-to-the-bone hard work, will only get you so far. You want more? You're going to have to leave town, find somewhere else."

"Maybe find someone else." She sniffled into her sleeve.

"I dunno about that. People like to be with people who are like them. They don't really do charity relationships."

His last comment hit her in the face, like cold water. She stopped crying.

"Best thing you can do is to do as well as you can, and then people will seek you out."

"How do I do that?"

"Told you - leave."

Veronica bit her nail and stared hard out the passenger window.

"Stop the car. Turn around, go back to the store."

"Why?" Randy hit the brakes and pulled over.

"I have to take this back." Veronica put the purse in the store bag. "Randy?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time you go out somewhere, somewhere I should see, take me with you."

"Uh..."

"Please. Randy, please. You're the one who said it."

"OK. Yeah."