Chapter 2
1333words
"Hey preacher's daughter," Grace tried again, this time softer.
Mary's jaw clenched slightly. She couldn't move or bring herself to speak, only stare. The thin yellow fabric of her dress, the small curvature of her round lips. Grace's hair was darker, her face had shed its childhood roundness. The grey bags underneath her eyes seemed to have lightened slightly, but her skin would still be stained with all those sleepless nights of youth. Yet there was something lighter in those brown eyes, like a weight had been finally lifted.
But it was still her. Still the girl Mary would swim with in the creek after church, the girl that would spend time behind the chapel to avoid going home to her daddy. The very same girl that would pick out burs and look deeply into Mary's eyes before telling her that she was going to Hell.
Mary could only find it in herself to give a small nod.
Grace tilted her head slightly, a playfulness twinging her red painted lips. "You just gonna keep staring or do you got anything to say?"
Mary opened her mouth slightly, but no words came. Her mind ran with bleeding questions. Where did you go? Where the hell have you been? Why didn't you say goodbye? But she closed her mouth, standing almost paralyzed.
Grace looked down, toeing the gravel with the edge of her shoe. "You were always quiet when it counted."
Mary found her voice as if she finally pulled it out of the bottom of a well. "What are you doing here?" she blurted.
Grace shrugged, her movements small. "Came home."
"You don't-" Mary began to lose her grip on her words. "You don't live here anymore."
"I do now," she said plainly. As if that very sentence wouldn't shake the heavens and tip the world. Mary swallowed against the dryness in her mouth.
"You just can't come back."
Grace looked up at her, looking so far deep into Mary's eyes that she felt something stir. Grace smiled again. Not wide, not warm. Something slow and unreadable.
"Sure I can."
They walked the edge of the property together, neither saying much. The cicadas screamed loud enough to fill the silence, awkward for Mary but there was a serene look that Grace had. She had taken off her wedges and held them loosely at her side, not minding or caring much about the stickers that clung to the hem of her dress. She smiled faintly at her surroundings as if the land told her a joke that only she got. Mary kept glancing at the way the sunlight bent delicately around her shoulders, making her glow in the afternoon sun.
Grace was the one that broke the silence."That place still stink like mildew and guilt?" she asked, nodding towards the chapel.
A small smile tugged at the edge of Mary's lips. "Sweat and sin."
Grace laughed, low and full. Mary felt her cheeks warm and something sick bloom in her chest. She had thought about that laugh for years, yearned for it. Mourned it even. Sometimes she would wake during dreams with that laugh ringing in her ears. She never thought she would hear it again, especially here. Out in the open on church land.
"Nothing ever changes in this place," Grace said.
Mary glanced over, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "You did."
Grace stopped and turned to look at her fully. "You think so?"
Mary nodded wordlessly. Grace held her gaze for a few heartbeats, then almost like a confession she murmured, "I didn't mean to." Her voice was so soft, her breath barely moved dust. She looked down to her hands as if she was ashamed at what she had become. Or maybe it was shame that she wasn't ashamed in the slightest.
They walked until they ended up yards behind the chapel at the oak tree they would sit at after church years ago. Its arms reached full and long, shading the still green grass that was hidden from the worst of the sun. The weeds and grass outside of its radius were dry and sun bleached, crunching underneath the women's steps. Grace sat down in the shade, legs tucked underneath. Mary stood awkwardly next to her, hands clasped at her stomach.
"You scared of coming back?"
Grace looked up at her. "You scared of me bein' back?"
Mary didn't answer.
Grace reached up and tugged gently at the hem of Mary's dress. Not much, just slight enough to bring Mary down beside her. Mary hesitated. Just a second. But the warmth of Grace's fingertips sent something electric humming beneath her ribs, and she followed. For a while, silence drew between them, Mary absently picking at the grass and Grace gazing up at the leaves that moved occasionally in the hot breeze.
Grace broke the silence again. "You still believe in Hell?"
Mary flinched. Her throat tightened again. "Y'know... I used to pray for you. Every night. At first."
Grace looked at her, eyes soft. "At first?"
Mary's words fell back down into the well.
The sun began to nestle behind the oak tree, the sky turning into pale shades of aged blood. Grace stood first.
"You gonna tell your daddy?"
Mary stood, frowning. "About what?"
Grace stepped closer, a silent wall shifting between them. The air seemed to spark with remembrance, tearing through the unsureness of time. Something half holy.
"That I'm back."
Mary looked at her fully. "Are you staying?"
Grace now grinned, full white teeth glinting in the sunset. "If you want me to."
That night, Mary was restless. She tossed and turned but no sleep came to her. She laid in the darkness with the window open, the room filled with hot air and the memory of Grace's perfume. Through the cacophony of toads and crickets in the darkness, she heard her laugh again. She replayed the sun glinting on Grace's skin, her warm hand briefly skimming her thigh. It wasn't fair how beautiful she had become. How sharp. How sure of herself.
Grace had always been soft, strange, a little broken. But this version? She could schism a church with just a whisper. And perhaps she would.
Mary buried her face into her pillow, wrapping it around her head until she couldn't breathe. In the dark night, she whispered Grace's name like a prayer. First once, then twice. Each time felt like sin melting on her tongue, like communion turned sour. Strong, lingering. But suddenly, the room didn't feel empty at all.
For the first time in years, she didn't ask God for anything at all.
