Page 51 of Ready Or Not
I wait, unsure of what to do. Riley stands there in the hot sun, just staring at the headstone. Sweat rolls down my back.
As I’m about to say something, Riley snatches up the Walmart bag again and grabs a pack of cigarettes. She offers me one, and I shake my head.
“Suit yourself.” She hops up on the gravestone next to the one she painted and lights one up.
The smell of spray paint and cigarettes fills the air. Riley is silent. I wait while she smokes two cigarettes, then scoot away, looking at the other headstones in the area. I look at the names, curious if they’ll be useful for getting to know Riley or any of this mess. I’m careful not to step on any of them. Some of them are old—too old to read—but the grass here has been trimmed pretty well.
Again, rich.
I almost trip over a snake curled up in the shadow of one of the headstones. It’s gray, with a little bit of its orange belly peeking up at me.
“Oh shit!” I squat down.
The snake curls up, hissing at me. It’s gorgeous in person. I’ve seen them before, but never one with such a bright orange belly.
I reach out to grab it, snatching it behind the head. The snake hisses, whipping its body back and forth, the bright color of its belly flashing in the sunlight.
“You’re okay.” I carry the snake back to Riley. “Look!”
She gives me a bored look.
“It’s a ring-neck!” I admire the yellows and oranges on its belly. I love the smooth motion as it curls and tries to get away from me.
Riley raises an eyebrow.
“I have a skeleton of one of these at home.” It’s one of my favorites too. I found it by a creek bed, perfectly preserved. I must have found it right after it died because it hadn’t been eaten or crushed by anything yet.
I let the snake go. It slithers into the tall grass around the fencing.
Riley just pulls out another cigarette.
“So…” I rub the back of my neck. “Now what?”
“We wait until I can take a shit. Then we’ll go.”
I blink. Jesus. I almost ask what her mom did, but I catch myself at the last second. “She was young,” I note. Immediately after saying that, I freeze. I realize that it’s likely Riley killed her, and that’s why she was so young.
“Heart attack, few years ago.” Riley takes a long drag.
I’m silent. I don’t think ‘I’m sorry’ is the right response in this situation.
“I don’t regret much,” Riley puffs out smoke. “Anything, really. But if there was a regret in my life, it’d be that I wasn’t the one to kill her.”
“Oh.” Once again, I don’t know how to respond to that. Oddly, I feel a rush of familiarity. Papa died a few years ago, too, and it always gave me a mix of relief and anger.
Riley shakes her head. “Relax, Rachel. I don’t need your sympathy.”
“Whatever.” I glare at her. I wasn’t trying to give her sympathy.
We’re silent again for a while. I’d prefer it to be that way since this whole exchange is making me feel awkward.
“You talked in your sleep last night.”
I glance at Riley and feel my face flush. My ex told me I used to do that. I still have vivid dreams, and I guess it’s still happening.
“Yeah.” Riley blows out another breath. “You were crying. Said something about Papa.”
A horrible feeling hits my stomach, and I stiffen. I do everything I can to avoid that memory. I never told anyone about him. Well, I told my mom when I was seven. But she said I was lying and he’d never do that. When Papa found out I told her, he yelled at me and asked me why I talked about our love and if I told her my secret—that I liked it. So, I never said anything else from then on. Shame fills my body. The deep shame I feel anytime I think aboutthat.