Glitter

“How fresh is the broccoli this morning, Mrs. T?” Standing at the veggie counter, I peered over the glass to face a shock of black hair. Mrs. Talbot, the local grocer, was sorting out a basket of what looked like mangoes on her work table. Adrienne, the daughter who helped her whenever she could, was nowhere to be found.

Turning abruptly, the olive skinned woman grinned when she saw me. “As fresh as they’ll ever be, Dianna. How has life been treating you, my dear?” She had moved away from her table to turn to talk to me. Dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and t-shirt, she wore a floral printed apron and matching flip flops on her feet.

Reaching for a head of cabbage, I shrugged. “I’ve been better but you get what you get, right?”

Mrs. T laughed. “You remind me of myself when I was your age. “

I gave her a wink. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Mrs. T.”

Then, after studying the back of the shop, turned back to her. “Where’s Adrienne?”

Mrs. T threw her hands up in the air and muttered something in Spanish. If that something wasn’t a prayer, then it was definitely a string of a few choice curse words.

“That girl! Ah, Dianna, she is going to drive me to an early grave, I tell you. She meets a boy, she tells me, and she’s in love. Love! Pfft, who falls in love at her age, Dianna? She’s sixteen!”

I gave her an empathetic smile and reached over to pat her hand.

“Adrienne is a smart girl, Mrs. T. You’ve taught her well. I’m sure that whatever happens, she’ll make the right choice.”

The Spanish woman sniffled and cradled my face in her hand. Her skin felt like sandpaper, rough and wrinkled. If I closed my eyes and stopped thinking, I could pretend that it was my father’s hand on my cheek, my father’s brown eyes meeting mine when I opened them again.

But the moment passed quickly and Mrs. T shook her head. “I wish my daughter had half the mind you have.”

Waving a dismissive hand, I reached for another head of cabbage and some more capsicums. “Oh, we were all young and impressionable once. Do we know who this new boy wonder of Adrienne’s might be?”

Stanton, unlike any other small town centre by a very large city, was very small. Everyone knew everyone here.

Mrs. T packed the things I was picking out before replying. “Some gringo – you know the kind. Rich, tall with dark hair. He drives one of those fancy blue race cars...”

“A Lamborghini, you mean?” I pulled the bill from Mrs. T’s outstretched hand, cross checked the dollars in my knapsack and exchanged them for the bags of vegetables.

She shrugged. “It might be. I’m not good with cars.”

I chuckled. “Well you let Adrienne know I send her my regards, Mrs. T. And don’t worry too much.”

She laughed when she waved me out of the shop. Her cheerful goodbye was still ringing in my ears when I pulled the small Volkswagen I normally used to run the O’Reilly’s errands into their driveway. It was only until I’d put all the groceries away and gotten dinner started when I spotted the shiny blue car pull into the driveway, behind the Volkswagen, and into the garage.

A dark blue Lamborghini, complete with blaring pop music and a tall, dark haired ‘gringo’ stepping out of the driver’s seat.

It seemed like I knew Adrienne’s mystery boy after all.