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Like the old-timers always said, if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes.
That was the thing about this part of the world: You didn’t have to actually see something to know exactly how it would play out.
That’s another thing no one tells you about dealing with death, how afterward the only voice you can hear is your own, reminding you of everything you did wrong.
“Because I’m going to find you, you sick fuck. And I’m going to tear you apart.”
Because that’s the one thing women are never, ever allowed to be. We can be sad, distraught, confused, pleading, forgiving. But not furious. Fury is reserved for other people. The worst thing you can be is an angry woman, an angry mother.
Eve, do you have any idea who might have done it? What are you going to do if you catch them, Eve? I wasn’t Ms. Taggert to them anymore, I noticed.
My mama smiled, showed off her yellow teeth. “Same way I know about everything, Eve. I pay attention.”
Truth is, there’s no good way to navigate being female in this world. If you speak out, say no, stand your ground, you’re a bitch and a harpy, and whatever
happens to you is your own fault. You had it coming. But if you smile, say yes, survive
on politeness, you’re weak and desperate. An easy mark. Prey in a world full of predators. There are no risk-free options for women, no choices that...
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Little girls were never safe. I should know; I used to be one of them.
I wanted those words to be the truth, needed them to be,
“Sometimes the answers are worse than the questions. Sometimes it’s better not to know.”
Love
“Yeah,” I said, grabbing the shovel off the ground. “He had it coming.”
And because sometimes you had to pick your poison. Weigh all the available options and choose the one that killed you least.
