Whiskey Girl by Maggie Casper Page B

place to
start since she couldn’t seem to come up with any ideas for herself.
    Taking a deep breath and steeling herself
for whatever happened next, Ausha opened her front door then just stood there.
It was her place only better and much, much worse.
    Colorful pillows were strewn across the
surface of the couch. Elegant coppers and browns. Bold and vibrant jewel tones
added life where there once was none. The walls were no longer bare, instead
pictures hung where it used to be white and bare.
    Her chest hurt and her eyes blurred. She
was angry and confused, overwrought with emotions she worked so hard to put to
rest.
    “Come in and close the door, Ausha.”
    Doug’s voice was strong and commanding. He
must have realized exactly what the changes meant to her and had prepared for a
battle. She wanted to give him one, to spit every bad thing she could think of
at him, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. When he touched her arm then
slid his hand down until his fingers entwined with hers, Ausha could only do
one thing.
    She crumpled into his arms. Too many years
of being strong had taken their toll. She felt raw and transparent. It was a
very uncomfortable place to be.
    “Why?”
    She didn’t need to explain the
single-worded question any more than she needed to ask him to hold her, to
comfort her. It must have been instinctive on his part to do so.
    “Because you deserve to live in color,
sweetheart.” He led her to the couch where they sat side by side still holding
hands.
    Ausha looked down, saw the way their
fingers looked all curled together. She felt a slight tremble in his or maybe
it was hers, she didn’t know.
    “When Lauren was alive, everything was so
bright. Her clothes, her toys. Everything.” It was hard to remember those
things, the soft pink bows, the primary-colored toys, the cartoon-character
blankets. Yet it felt good to talk about them, to picture Lauren the way she
had been and not the way she’d looked locked into her car seat with blood
seeping from her wounds.
    “Afterward it hurt too much to have all of
that around me. Everything I saw reminded me of her, even something as small as
a color.” It all came spewing out. All the things she’d never been able to put
into words. “At first it hurt, really bad. Then it made me angry. I would get
mad just seeing a mother with her child because I couldn’t have mine anymore.”
Ausha looked up to Doug then. Meeting his eyes took everything she had in her.
“I even had times where I wished it were others. Not just myself but anyone,
any other adult or child, who had died instead of my baby. I knew then I needed
to do something.”
    She’d always known, always been aware her
hatred for those who killed Lauren, including her ex-husband, was going to eat
away at her and make her a person no better than they were. Letting go of
Doug’s hand, she ran her fingers through her hair.
    “So I made a conscious decision simply not
to care. About anything or anyone. It makes life easier.”
    “That’s not actually living, sweetheart.”
    The calmness of his voice made her angry.
It pushed into her face what she already knew but had not wanted to admit.
“Don’t you fucking think I know that!”
    Sitting was no longer an option. She
stalked across the room, distancing herself from Doug, from the anger she was
tired of harboring and didn’t want to take out on him.
    Instead of taking the hint, he followed. He
wasn’t the sort to back down, and so Ausha wasn’t completely surprised when he
didn’t this time either. When she kept her back to him, he took the initiative.
Turning her with a hand on her arm, Doug backed her up against the wall. Once
again he entwined his fingers in hers, holding her hands, enabling her from
leaving again if she so chose.
    “Tell me what you know, baby.”
    He really wanted to hear it all. Ausha
couldn’t help but wonder why. It wasn’t as if her revelations were of help to
him in any way. “I know feeling nothing