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We’re Gonna Be All Right, Right?

Sally Franco

Darcie stood shivering on Mrs. Bellecheck’s front stoop, her eyes darting toward the street as the old woman continued her endless chatter, rattling off a never-ending list of complaints.

“And can you please tell Mr. Greer that the last bottle ran out before you delivered this new batch? I had to skip a day, and now my whole schedule’s been thrown off.”

Mrs. Bellecheck clutched the collar of her quilted robe and cracked open the screen door just enough for her voice to carry through.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Darcie replied, stepping back toward the car, still running and parked at the curb.

Mrs. Bellecheck’s voice rang out, high and thin as the wind gusted, sending leaves skittering around them. “Young lady, I hope you have a coat in that car.”

“I do. Thanks, Mrs. Bellecheck!”

But the truth was, Darcie had left the house wearing only a long-sleeved cotton shirt and the pair of jeans she’d wrestled into by flattening herself on the bed.

“Does this look all right?” Darcie had asked her husband, Ron, in front of the mirror that morning. She hated how the waistband of her jeans pinched her stomach, even though it had been five months since Manny was born.

“Mmhmm,” Ron mumbled, lying on the floor and stretching to retrieve a boot that had disappeared beneath the bed.

“Ron, you’re not even looking. Should I wear the blue sweater or the green button-up?”

“Yeah, the blue one looks fine,” he replied, his voice muffled as he reached deeper, feeling around for the boot.

“I’m not wearing either one yet. Ron, are you even listening?”

Darcie frowned and slipped the green shirt on.

“Maybe I’ll do like Selena and wear just my bra and jacket,” she said.

“Sure, Darce. Whichever. You look good in all those,” Ron said absently, finally getting hold of the boot and pulling it out.

She noticed the black bra showing through her shirt and quickly undressed again, pulling a lighter-colored bra from the dresser drawer. As she stood naked from the waist up, the mirror caught her eye. Her breasts, once flawless and delicate, now bore faint brownish patches along their outer contours, barely noticeable but present. Her nipples had darkened to a deeper hue as well. She’d hoped the doctor would assure her they would return to their original tone, but he had stated matter-of-factly that they would not. His indifference had stung, much like her teachers lack of concern when she’d had to drop out of school. They hadn’t cared either. Darcie was beginning to understand that adults didn’t really care about you as much as they led you to believe they did in childhood.

“Ron, do you think I look different now?” she asked, vulnerability creeping into her voice.

“You look beautiful, babe,” Ron replied, now shoving his loose change and wallet into his pockets.

“What if I get a spiked mohawk and a face tattoo?” Darcie’s words floated by, unnoticed.

“What time is it?” Ron asked, glancing at his watch as he strapped it on. “Crap. I gotta go.”

Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open, and Eric walked in carrying an armload of laundry.

“Mom says quit leaving your clothes…” His eyes locked onto Darcie’s breasts.

She screamed, arms flying to cover herself. “Get out!”

Ron sprang to attention, shoving his little brother out the door. “Fucking Christ, Eric! Ever hear of knocking?”

“Sorry,” Eric mumbled through an embarrassed grin.

“We can’t stay here much longer,” Darcie snapped, fumbling with the buttons on her shirt. “We need privacy. How am I supposed to live with your freakin’ Neanderthal brothers?”

She tugged the fabric angrily, her face flushed with frustration.

“Jesus. I’m sorry, Darce.” Ron placed his hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “We’ll move out as soon as we have the money. Until then, let’s at least get a lock on the door. I’ll pick one up tonight, okay?”

A horn beeped outside, and Darcie picked up Manny, who squealed and cooed as he watched his toy train chug along the crib rail. She slung the diaper bag over her shoulder and hurried after Ron into the living room. Together, they peered through the storm door to see Wayne, Ron’s ride to work, pulling up.

Eric sat on the sofa tying his shoes with exaggerated concentration, his eyes cast downward to avoid Darcie’s furious glare. He grabbed his books and hockey stick and bolted out the door, the air charged with tension behind him.

Ron’s expression tightened, a piece of toast clenched between his teeth as he slid into his coat.

“Wait!” Ron’s mother, Arlene, emerged from the kitchen where the rest of the family was still having breakfast.

She handed Ron a thermos and an overstuffed paper bag, with a bunch of grapes dangling over the edge. As she did, her eyes briefly shifted toward Darcie, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips as she smoothed Ron’s collar, adjusting the wool lapel of his coat.

Darcie couldn’t help but let out an exasperated sigh as she put Manny into his coat and secured him into his car seat carrier.

“Mom, give it a rest,” Ron said. “Darce, need help with the baby?”

Darcie pressed her lips together in a stubborn line, focused on folding Manny’s blanket and stuffing it into the diaper bag.

Ron rested a hand on his hip. “Darce?”

She zipped the diaper bag shut.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said. He planted a brief kiss on Manny’s cheek.

“See you tonight,” he whispered in Darcie’s ear before heading out the door.

She peered through the blinds, watching Ron climb into the truck, then disappear around a corner.

Meanwhile, Arlene’s complaints filled the air behind her, insisting that Darcie should have parked her car on the curb instead of in the driveway, as now she was blocked in and needed to get to work herself. Darcie nodded absently, setting the car seat on the floor. She bent down and folded the fabric of her jeans against her ankles, cuffing the hems neatly. Manny wailed at her impatiently, stretching his fingers toward her, wanting to be held. Flustered and running behind schedule, Darcie dashed out the door, juggling Manny in one arm and her books, purse, and diaper bag in the other.

It wasn’t until she was on her way to daycare that she realized her jacket was still draped over the arm of the sofa.

“Don’t start planning that beach trip just yet,” Bev’s voice crackled through the car speakers on the Morning Zoo with Bev and Lou. “Looks like winter’s holding on tight, folks, with some surprise spring snow on the way.”

“Great,” Darcie muttered under her breath, her gaze flicking up to the sky, which had seemed to promise a warmer day despite the chilly start. “Coulda fooled me.” 

She checked the rearview mirror, catching sight of the little blue pom-pom on Manny’s hat bouncing with each bump and shudder. The responsibility she felt for this tiny person gave her a panicky feeling inside. In the most secret and selfish part of herself, she wished it would all go away—that she had never gotten pregnant, that she wasn’t a mother. A mother was supposed to be older, calm, and in control—not a teenager living in someone else’s house.

She thought of her own mother taking care of everybody, washing laundry, shopping for groceries, making sure the little kids were bathed, and having dinner ready every night when Dad expected it. Sometimes, Darcie silently prayed she could be like that too—like her mother, like Ron’s mother. But deep down, she had fantasies she’d be ashamed for anyone to know about, like being free to plan an exciting future like the other seniors were doing—college maybe, or a big trip to see the world.

Manny’s hands fluttered into the air as he was briefly startled. His pacifier bobbed as he sucked, and Darcie felt a tug at her heart. Suddenly, all her selfish thoughts scattered away, and all she wanted now was to go back home once everyone was gone, wrap herself around him, and hide from the world.

Waiting at the traffic light, the longing lingered, a tempting fantasy even though it wasn’t an option. Classes felt awkward now. As her peers reveled in the nearing graduation, she was detached, quietly retaking courses she hadn’t passed. It all felt surreal—dropping out abruptly in the middle of her junior year, the hurried wedding, and now returning after such a long absence. She felt like an outsider: as if she had secretly crossed a border into the adult world, adopted its ways, and was now trying to slip back into student life as though nothing had changed. But she knew her classmates looked at her differently, whispered things about her. 

“So, you get to drive around during school and get paid for it?” her best friend Renee had asked after Darcie scored the work-half-day program, a lifeline that offered not only school credit but also a paycheck.

Renee sounded almost annoyed, like she wished she’d thought of such an arrangement for herself.

“Something like that.” Darcie let out a long breath and slumped against the lockers.

She couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly sleek Renee looked in her Levi’s and crop top.

“But I still have to go to summer school to graduate.”

“Well, at least you don’t have to hang around this place all day. That’s a silver lining, right? I’d trade anything to get outta here early.” Renee spun her locker dial until it jolted open.

“Oh well. Hey, I heard from Ava Reed there’s a job opening up at the grain silo, a secretary job mostly answering phones. I think I’m gonna apply.” She aimed a wide smile at Darcie and rummaged through her locker, grabbing a few things for class.

“I thought you were gonna do college,” Darcie said as they started weaving through the crowded hallway.

“Maybe, but I still need a summer job.” Renee paused, her eyes softening. “Hey, wouldn’t that be cool? Your best friend and your husband working at the same place? You could come out, and we could all have lunch together like we’re back in school. It would be like the old days, sort of, you know, before the baby and everything.”

“Yeah, that would be cool,” Darcie replied, though the idea of Renee working where Ron worked filled her with unease.

The memory of Ron’s crush on Renee from the start of high school lingered, even though Renee hadn’t been interested back then. Now, Ron’s body was more defined, his jawline sharper. His eyes lit up with a hint of mischief when he smiled. Darcie couldn’t shake the feeling that they sometimes flirted. And while she was mostly content with her petite figure and dark curls, standing next to Renee, who had grown to modelesque height with the full curves of a movie star, made Darcie feel a pang of insecurity she couldn’t always ignore.

Renee seemed to sense the hesitation. “I mean, it’s just a job for the summer. Who knows how it’ll turn out. Maybe I won’t even get hired. I might work at the bowling alley or something and maybe score us some free lanes.”

“Maybe,” Darcie said, trying to sound optimistic. She looked at Renee, remembering the sleepovers, how they’d planned to be roommates, what their apartment would look like, and the way they used to dream about their future together. She shook off the sad feeling as they continued walking.

Renee sighed, her tone shifting slightly. “You know, it was hard for me, Darcie. When you got pregnant and left school, things changed. I hung out with Janey and them, but it wasn’t the same. There wasn’t anyone I could really talk to, share stuff with, you know what I mean?”

Seriously? Darcie thought, a wave of incredulity washing over her. Renee obviously had no idea what hard really meant. She didn’t know how lucky she was to have her life intact while Darcie was having to morph into this responsible person everyone expected her to be. The weight of it pressed down on her day and night.

“I guess,” Darcie said, swallowing her true thoughts. Her voice was flat, masking the turmoil beneath. “I’m sorry. I missed you, too, you know.”

“Yeah, but at least you had Ron and your baby,” Renee replied, her voice tinged with subtle bitterness. “You got busy with a whole new life while I was stuck without my best friend. Do you have any idea how alone I felt?”

Darcie took a slow, patient breath. “I guess I was just too caught up in, you know—giving birth.”

Renee nodded, apparently oblivious. “I get it, I do. But sometimes it felt like you just … moved on without a second thought.”

Darcie bit the inside of her cheek, fighting back an eye roll. She turned slightly, pretending to adjust the purse strap on her shoulder.

Renee had visited Darcie a few times at Ron’s parents’ house after Manny was born. During one visit, she had held Manny, gushing over how cute he was. But there was an underlying awkwardness. Darcie could see the mixture of curiosity and discomfort in Renee’s eyes as she looked around the cramped, disheveled house that was now Darcie’s home. Despite her good intentions, these visits only underscored the divergent paths their lives had taken.

“Do you ever miss it?” Renee asked, her voice quieter, unguarded. “You know, the way things used to be?”

“What do you think?” Darcie replied. “Do you think I wanted this to happen? Like it’s been a trip to Disneyland or something? Of course, I miss my life. But things are different now. We’re different.”

Renee nodded, her eyes meeting Darcie’s as she twisted her thumb into the hem of her shirt—a familiar habit from their childhood. “Yeah I guess.”

Darcie stopped walking, her mind drifting back to kindergarten days—trick-or-treating together, playing hopscotch. Renee was her oldest and closest friend. How could just one year have put such a divide between them?

“Renee? We’re gonna be all right, right?”

“Yeah, we’ll figure it out,” Renee said, giving Darcie a gentle side-hug before she turned towards the chemistry lab. “Best friends forever, no?”

“Forever,” Darcie echoed, a glimmer of their old closeness lighting up her expression as she pumped a fist into the air. “Except I’m the lucky one stuck retaking junior English with Morelli right now. Kill me.” She dragged an index finger across her throat as she continued down the hall.

With her morning classes behind her and her afternoon of delivering prescriptions finally over, Darcie peeled off the two magnet “Greer Apothecary” signs from the car doors and tossed them into the back seat. Glancing at her watch, she slipped into the car, relishing the heat wafting from the vents. She raised her hands to the flow of warmth, rubbing away the goosebumps from her arms and then popped a cassette into the tape player. Ric Ocasek’s cool, detached voice filled the car’s interior, singing “Shake it Up,” prompting Darcie to sing along and crank up the volume. She turned left onto Paramount Drive, the scenery blurring past—old mall, doctor’s offices, duck pond. Mockingbird Place Apartments loomed ahead; she’d make it before the office closed.

A commercial on the radio said they were running a special deal—no rent for the first month. If they had a studio apartment available, it could be their ticket out of his folks’ place and into their own. She pictured Ron’s face lighting up at the news. It could be a chance to make up for her sour mood that morning. The guilt of not returning his goodbye kiss had stayed with her all day.

True, Darcie wasn’t supposed to run personal errands until after she’d returned the company car and clocked out, but she’d be quick. Besides, Mockingbird Place was on the way back to the pharmacy, and no one would know the difference. If she didn’t stop now, whatever apartments were available might get snatched up.

The apartment manager, Janice, was a bubbly twenty-something with the effervescence of a sitcom blonde. She guided Darcie through the pristinely decorated two-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath model apartment. The navy-blue sofa and loveseat were flanked by glass-top end tables, and an oversized vase filled with silk Calla Lilies graced the coffee table. In the galley kitchen, a platter of chocolate chip cookies sat next to a pair of stiff, unused potholders.

“Each building has its own dedicated laundry room, so you never have to go out into the weather to do your washing,” Janice chirped, leading Darcie into the bedroom.

The room featured a queen-size bed, an oak dresser and mirror, and oak nightstands each topped with a brass-base lamp. Four seashore paintings, arranged in a perfect square, adorned one wall. Near the window, a man in a yellow hard hat worked on an electrical outlet.

“Cooper! No wonder the lights didn’t come on. I didn’t know you were working in here.” Janice’s expression flickered with concern, quickly replaced by a reassuring smile for Darcie.

“Almost done,” Cooper replied, replacing the switch plate cover.

“Cooper’s our new maintenance guy. Keeps things running smoothly around here.”

He straightened and smiled warmly, giving a slight nod in greeting before openly assessing Darcie in a way that left her feeling intrigued, but also disconcerted. She felt her face flush. As he turned away to close the open window, she discreetly took him in: his wavy black hair and deeply tanned skin exuded a rugged allure, but it was the way he’d looked at her that stirred something within her. Even as she turned away, she felt him watching her. Determined not to look back, she felt a nervous energy prickling at her skin.

“Well, that’s it,” Janice said cheerfully, leaning into the doorframe and clapping her palms together. “Shall we head back to the office and get you an application?”

“Well, actually, I was hoping you had a studio apartment. It’s more what I’m looking for.”

“As a matter of fact!” Janice stood up straight. “There’s a studio opening up at the end of the month. Let’s swing by and see if the painter is done with it. Just keep in mind it’ll look better when it’s all put together.”

Darcie felt a flicker of hope for a fresh start in their own little place. No more navigating the strained dynamics of Ron’s family, tiptoeing around his mother’s judgments or his father’s unpredictable moods. No more sharing cramped living quarters with his brothers and little sister, whose room they had taken and who now begrudgingly slept on the sofa in the living room. And as if the house wasn’t cramped enough already, Arlene kept reminding everyone that Aunt Trudy was moving back to town. She’d need a place to stay for a few nights, which meant someone might have to make do with a pallet on the floor.

As Darcie followed Janice out the door, she glanced back at Cooper, who was now gathering his tools from the floor, absorbed in his task. Curiosity stirred within her, a fleeting desire for his attention that faded into a quiet disappointment. She chided herself, willing away the intrusive thoughts.

The studio apartment was everything Darcie had hoped for, and she accepted the paper application with gratitude, promising to return it by morning. “And the first month’s rent is free?” she asked, already calculating. They’d have extra time to save up for rent money. In her mind, she began arranging the furniture: the love seat near the window by the front door, the bed positioned along the opposite wall, and the crib nestled in the far corner. For now, she’d tape up their wedding Polaroids to add a personal touch until they could afford proper decorations.

“That’s correct,” Janice confirmed, her smile radiant. “The first month is indeed free. You only need to pay the security deposit and the last month’s rent upfront to move in. Isn’t it fantastic?”

Darcie’s heart dropped—“How much is the security deposit?”

“It’s the same amount as the rent,” Janice replied, sounding satisfied with the arrangement.

The office door swung open, and Cooper entered and stood quietly at the back of the room, apparently waiting for Janice to be finished.

“But then, that’s still the same as no free first month,” Darcie said, her disappointment palpable.

“Well, not exactly. Typically, you’d have to pay first and last month’s rent, plus the security deposit. So, you see, this is quite a good deal.” Janice tucked a long yellow strand of hair behind her ear.

“Oh,” Darcie murmured, her eyes dropping to the floor. “I guess I won’t be needing this after all.”

She extended the application to Janice.

“Are you sure? You could fill it out anyway, and we’ll keep it on file in case you want to try again in the future,” Janice suggested kindly. “Or you could leave a phone number, and I’ll let you know the next time a unit opens up.”

Darcie hesitated, aware of Cooper’s eyes on her, feeling a bit embarrassed that he’d witnessed the exchange. She jotted her name and number on the application and handed it to Janice. “Thanks,” she replied softly.

“I’ll put this in our file,” Janice called out as Darcie left the office, the glass door swinging shut behind her.

A few snowflakes drifted down, dancing in the wind as darkening clouds began to gather in the distance. Darcie sank into the driver’s seat and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. She calculated, again, the money they’d managed to save so far and felt the prickle of tears behind her eyelids.

Darcie startled at the tap on her car window. With a quick motion, she lowered the glass, feeling an unexpected flutter in her stomach as she noticed the puffs of Cooper’s warm breath meet the cold air.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just, you know, checking out different places,” Darcie replied, her cheeks flushing when a tear escaped, betraying her attempt to appear composed.

Cooper motioned toward a nearby building. “Come inside for a sec. Let’s have some coffee.”

Darcie had lingered far longer than intended. Back at the pharmacy, her absence was surely raising eyebrows. More pressing, though, was the guilt she felt over Ron—a feeling that deepened with each moment she considered Cooper’s invitation. Yet, an irresistible intrigue tugged at her—a yearning to savor this fleeting connection with Cooper and briefly escape reality. Against her better judgment, Darcie stepped out of the car and followed Cooper inside. As she fell into step beside him, a wistful ache filled her chest—a longing to turn back time and undo the decisions that had already locked her life into place.

The maintenance building was modest—metal shelves and tools hanging on the walls, a small sofa and a couple of chairs, a cluttered corner housing a shop vac and a toolbox. Against another wall stood a small kitchen sink, with a bare grimy window above it. Faint light filtered in. Cooper cleared a spot on the counter, fetching two coffee cups from the cupboard.

“Black okay?” Steam rose as he poured from a steel thermos.

She nodded, although she didn’t like coffee at all, really. She started her days with a Dr. Pepper.

“So, do you like working here?” Darcie paced the small room, her eyes scanning the framed certificates and licenses on the wall alongside a large faded poster of a snow-capped mountain with climbers scaling its peak.

“Hard to say. I’ve only been here a few days—just moved from Houston. It’s my third day, so I’m still settling in. But I gotta say, I’m relieved to be out of there. That place has gotten too big and crowded.”

Cooper twisted the lid back onto the thermos.

“Yeah? I always wanted to go to a bigger city. Must be exciting. I’ve never been anywhere. Not yet, anyways. But we’ve got an okay town. Not too bad.”

“I grew up here, mostly,” Cooper said. “My dad moved us to Houston when I was fourteen.”

“Oh yeah? So you have some friends around probably. That’s good.”

Cooper nodded. “Yeah, and my mom’s coming back now that Dad’s passed away. She’s been calling me all week—reminding me when the movers are coming, what day to pick her up. She’s driving me crazy.”

“Sorry for your loss. About your dad, I mean. But it’s nice that your mom will be closer, right?”

“Thanks. It’s been a year now since he passed, so…” Cooper’s voice trailed off. “Yeah, it’s better that she’ll be in town. It’ll save me those long road trips to Houston.”

He handed her a chipped yellow mug with a smiley face on it. She cradled it in her hands, feeling its warmth as she took a sip, wincing at the bitterness. How old was Cooper? she wondered. Twenty, maybe? Probably the oldest guy she’d ever talked to like this. He seemed so sure of himself, like he had his life together.

He sipped from his cup and leaned against the kitchen counter. The way he watched her stirred a tantalizing nervousness in the pit of her stomach. Absentmindedly, she twisted the wedding band on her finger. He must have noticed it, she thought. He must know.

The excitement of Cooper’s attention reminded her of how Ron had made her feel in the beginning. “Hello, bright eyes,” he’d say to her in the mornings as he passed her in the hall on the way to their first classes. Renee had theatrically thrown her head back upon witnessing this. “Daa-aam. Ron Finney. Who knew he’d turn out so fine. Wish I’d paid more attention when he gave me the time of day. Looks like my loss is your gain, Chica.”

They’d go to the football games to watch him play. After, she and Renee would rush onto the field and a bunch of kids would go for burgers at JL’s Diner. He’d drape his arm protectively around her in the booth, and she’d revel in the sense that this was it—this was what life was supposed to be like. She was doing life right.

Then one night he’d parked the car behind the bowling alley. When the kissing became more primal, the touching more insistent, she’d felt swept up in the tidal pull of it all and was unable to stop, and so it happened. In the cramped backseat, there’d been the sharp pain of it …and then it was over. She’d felt strangely empty after, her bare thighs sticky against the cracked vinyl. But it would feel better next time, she’d reasoned. They would be okay. After all, this was only the first time.

Over the months, whenever he wanted her that way, she’d try to recapture the euphoria she’d felt the first time they’d been alone together. It was there at first, but soon it faded into a mere performance—an imitation of passion she’d seen in on-screen romances. Darcie found herself cooing, arching, and writhing in a choreographed display of pretend ecstasy. 

They’d exchanged Christmas presents: an I.D. bracelet from her to him, and a rhinestone-studded Hershey’s Kiss pendant for her. During winter break, after the morning sickness started, they’d argued about the one time they’d done it without a condom. You shouldn’t have… and But you said…

Cooper’s voice brought Darcie back. She blinked, refocusing.

“Sorry. Just blanked out for a sec.”

Cooper grinned. “So, what do you do?”

Darcie didn’t want to tell him that she was still in high school, and she didn’t want to say where she worked exactly. “I’m a delivery driver for some of the local pharmacies,” she offered vaguely.

“Interesting,” Cooper nodded.

Freezing rain began to pelt the windowpane, and Cooper adjusted the dial of the radio next to the coffee pot, settling into the familiar melody of Baker Street. She’d always liked this song. It conjured, for her, some beautiful, tortured soul of a man in a faraway city. She felt she understood him, even though she realized that if she listened closely, she couldn’t decipher its meaning.

The velvety sax solo played. She ran her hand lightly down her arm, getting lost in the music.

“Are you cold?” Cooper’s voice cut through the charged atmosphere of the small room.

He shrugged off his coat and draped it over Darcie’s shoulders.

The warmth lingering in Cooper’s garment stirred memories of Ron. She thought of their first months together—the delicious rush of nestling into his jacket, her head against his chest, waiting for the morning bell to ring. At lunchtime, they would be more eager to find a quiet place to make out than to eat. She lived, those early days, on apples between classes and the way he looked at her.

But the bliss had long since evaporated, replaced by the kind of domestic routine she’d once thought was reserved for old people.  Now, she thought of how Ron was always exhausted after work and how she spent all her energy just getting through the day. And in the evenings, she maneuvered around Ron’s family, trying to make herself and Manny as small as possible to avoid inconveniencing anyone.

Darcie rubbed the lipstick stain from the rim of her cup—Pink Orchid, a shade from one of the Avon mini samples her mom had given her. She couldn’t help but imagine how horrified her mother would be if she knew where Darcie was right now. Claudia would never do such a thing as this, having coffee with some strange man not her husband. She knew she shouldn’t be here, and yet here she was, letting Cooper refill her cup.

On the night of the wedding, Ron’s mother had been strangely preoccupied with filling rows of Styrofoam cups with coffee, even though no one there—aside from the parents and the Justice of the Peace—drank coffee. The small ceremony had taken place in the living room of Ron’s parents’ house. Renee had been Darcie’s maid of honor and Ron’s friend, Wayne, was the best man.

Darcie’s mother had looked tearfully into Ron’s eyes, her thick Mexican accent trembling as she pleaded, “Promise me she graduate.”

Caught off guard, Ron simply nodded.

Under her breath, with a smirk, Ron’s mother muttered in her Texas drawl, “What about Ron? He doesn’t get to graduate.” 

Darcie’s younger siblings sat in a row on the orange sofa, their black hair neatly parted and the girls in ponytails. Before the slicing of the grocery store wedding cake, Darcie’s father stood stoically, offering his Felicidades repeatedly as he shook first Ron’s hand, then his parents’, and finally the Justice of the Peace’s. Darcie felt her heart splinter as her father kissed her on the cheek and said Vámonos to the family before they left.  Pressing her hand into her belly as she watched her parents go, she’d thought of the new life growing there. The realization that she would be the parent now felt strange and impossible.

The unfamiliar house, with its own pictures on the walls, its own smells and textures, was her home now. After her family had gone, she’d closed her eyes, willing it all away.  

“Hey, we’re gonna be all right, right Ron?”

“Of course we are,” Ron said, putting an arm around her shoulder as he handed her a slice of cake on a paper plate.

In the background, Ron’s younger brothers had switched on the TV, the synthesized music and narrator’s voice from Knight Rider filling the room: “A shadowy flight into the dangerous world of a man who does not exist.”

Cooper went over to the thermostat on the wall and adjusted the dial. Through the window she could see the dark clouds building, stretching out, hiding the sun. It was nearly five. The pharmacy would be closing in an hour.

“I need to get going,” Darcie said.

“Okay.” Setting his coffee mug down, Cooper held Darcie’s gaze.

In a few short movements he closed the distance between them, took her cup and placed it on the counter. As he neared, she instinctively retreated, feeling the wall behind her.

He paused. “Want me to stop?”

She was unable to speak—spellbound. He entwined his fingers with hers, drawing her closer. She shivered. He kissed her then, and he tasted of coffee and cinnamon and smelled of sweat and aftershave. It felt foreign and strange to be this close to someone who wasn’t Ron, to have the warm body of another man pressed against her.

A gust whistled through the windowpane above the sink, and Darcie watched tree branches strain against the rising wind. The thought came to her that Ron might be outdoors loading trucks.

These days Ron came home from the grain silo dog-tired, the lines in his face etched with dust, his clothes and boots covered in a powdery film. Arlene, ever watchful, would say, “Go fix your man a plate,” as if it hadn’t occurred to her to do so already. Most nights, Ron showered and ate his dinner in front of the TV, watching reruns of Kung Fu with his dad and brothers. Cradling Manny in his lap, he’d coo at him, blowing raspberries into his belly.

Every day was the same. The household would wake to a chorus of bathroom demands.

“Mom! I need to get in there. I can’t hold it anymore!”

And the inevitable response: “Aw, just go find a tree then!”

Darcie had adapted by taking her bath the night before. She had also secretly mastered the art of using a jar in the closet for emergencies. God help her if she ever forgot to empty it out.

And the aftermath of breakfast was shocking to Darcie. Unlike her childhood home, where mealtimes were a tidy affair orchestrated by her stay-at-home mother, meals with Ron’s family were chaotic. They all just dispersed and ran off to school and work—dirty plates strewn with bacon grease and egg remnants, spilled jelly on the oilcloth, and skillets left with bits of food in them on the stove.

“You don’t mind tidying up, do you, Darcie?” Arlene would say on her way out the door.

Darcie’s mother had unexpectedly visited one morning after everyone had gone. Her face held a faraway, pained look that Darcie had not seen since her grandmother had died. Darcie, holding Manny on her hip, longed for her mother to take Manny, who still wasn’t sleeping through the night, and allow Darcie to come home and sleep for a hundred years. But that didn’t happen.

After a long, silent survey of the scene, Claudia could only muster a quiet, “Oh, my goodness.”

It had been a relief to Darcie when she finally got to go back to school. She didn’t know who did the cleaning now, and she didn’t care.

An icy drizzle pinged against the window as Cooper’s fingers began to trace her skin just along the waistband of her jeans. Her heart raced, a sense of disorientation creeping in.

Darcie pulled away, the words escaping in a soft murmur, “I have to go now.”

Stepping back, she composed herself. “Thank you for the coffee.”

“Anytime.” Cooper held a smile in his eyes and reached for his cup.

With one last glance, Darcie hurried away, feeling an urgency to return to work as quickly as possible. She pushed the gas pedal harder. A wave of dread washed over her at the thought of being fired. As she drove back, she fought to suppress a sob rising in her throat, feeling as if she was teetering on an edge.

Darcie veered into the employee parking lot, killed the engine, and dashed to the entrance. Eyes downcast, she hurried past her coworkers, each step tightening the knot of worry in her stomach. As she glanced over, the pharmacist was deeply engrossed with a customer at the counter, while his assistant stood poised to approach Darcie as soon as she was free. Quickly clocking out, she excused herself to pick up Manny before the weather got worse.

At this hour, the daycare was unusually quiet; only one other baby sat near her son, gnawing on a plastic teething ring filled with floating starfish. Manny’s face lit up with a smile, quickly followed by a burst of wails when he caught sight of his mother. He reached out for her eagerly, and Darcie unexpectedly glimpsed Ron in her son’s expression—the crinkle in the bridge of his nose, the entreaty in his furrowed brow.

She scooped him up, swallowing the lump in her throat as tears welled up unexpectedly. Suddenly, she longed for the three of them to be together, wishing to erase the day and pretend the whole thing with Cooper never happened. Her heart ached with a deep yearning, her desperation for Ron consuming her.

After securing Manny in his car seat, she headed for the silo, the wiper blades scraping away the building slush with each pass, revealing slivers of the road ahead.

She drove along the farm-to-market road, leaving behind the last subdivision of town with its paved streets and traffic lights. In the last few miles, the snowfall intensified, the windshield wipers thumping a steady beat against the glass as the radio signal faded into intermittent white noise. In the rearview mirror, Manny clutched his stuffed glowworm toy, bringing it to his mouth as his eyelids drooped. Any minute now, he would drift off to sleep.

The landscape took on a bluish hue as evening fell. Darcie eased her car into the bend of the long driveway leading to the silo parking lot. Through the gathering darkness, she discerned the outlines of two figures inside a car. After a moment’s scrutiny, Darcie recognized Renee’s car, and seated beside her in the passenger’s seat was Ron. Though the windows were fogged, she recognized his silhouette, noting how he seemed to adjust the collar of Renee’s jacket with a slow, almost tender movement.

Darcie’s stomach tightened as she parked beside them. Surprise flashed across their faces when they turned to see her—Ron’s expression quickly shifting to apprehension, while a shadow of worry crossed Renee’s face. Ron moved to open the car door, taking a deep breath as if bracing himself to explain.

Darcie shot them both a hard look and threw her car into reverse before Ron could reach her.

A surge of anger and hurt took over. She glanced in the rearview mirror, half expecting Ron to follow. Part of her wished he would, yet at the same time, she dreaded the thought of confronting him. She just needed to be alone.

Being best friends with Renee had always been tough, always tinged with a sense of competition—they would silently size each other up, wondering whether one of them would catch a boy’s eye more than the other, all while pretending there was no rivalry.

It could be draining. Flirting was one thing. But this? This had blindsided Darcie. They’d shopped for their first bras together, smoked their first cigarette together, shared a ridiculous binder full of pop song lyrics together.  She could rip Renee’s hair out right now. And yet she loved Renee—possibly loved her more than she loved Ron. She wiped her eyes, the headlights picking up a sign: 11 MILES TO AMARILLO.

She turned down a snowy road marked with an unfamiliar number, the radio silent, the heater fan whirring. The headlights cut through the swirling snow. There was an eerie dream-like quality to the white, deserted landscape. A few structures dotted the horizon—a collapsed barn, the ruin of an old schoolhouse. She made another turn, the fury within her shrinking, slowly overshadowed by a deep, quiet ache.

Manny stirred and began to cry. It was past his feeding time, and he likely needed a diaper change. She needed to get home.

How could she not recognize the way back? The route was so clear in her mind—the corner where the clump of cottonwood trees stood, the railroad crossing, the road leading to the air force base. She drove slowly, following her tracks as she attempted to retrace them. 

She turned, a little triumphant that she was headed in the right direction, but the road under the snow was deceptive. As the car began to slide, Manny’s giggles erupted from the back seat, the five-month-old finding unexpected delight in the jolting motion. His laughter grew louder as the vehicle skidded and bumped. The car finally sank into a deep, saggy shoulder, Manny’s gleeful squeals filling the air as the tires spun, slick and wet. Darcie struggled for traction, her son’s joy a stark contrast to her rising panic.

She scrambled onto her knees and rummaged through the car. A flashlight lay tucked under the passenger seat, but its batteries had long since died. Stepping out to assess the situation, she discovered that the car had skidded into a two-foot ditch.

The wind tore at her, and she lost her footing, falling hard. Her head struck a jagged rock, and she cursed as shards of pain shot down her spine. Blood trickled down her neck as she gingerly touched the cut at the base of her skull. She pressed down with her fingers trying to assess the damage. Standing up made her dizzy, and she couldn’t remember ever being this cold.

Returning to the shelter of the car, Darcie pressed a clean diaper against the wound and took stock of their resources. With a quarter of a tank of gas, at least the heater could provide some warmth. She unbuckled Manny from his car seat, lifted him, and pulled him close, wrapping them both in his small blanket. He had half a bottle of formula left.

The snow came harder outside, the gleam of the windshield disappearing underneath it.

As Darcie tried to ration Manny’s remaining formula, his cries grew louder, echoing through the cold confines of the car. Her head began to ache with exhaustion, each wail piercing deeper into her skull. Desperate to soothe him and to get warm, she clicked on the car’s heater, vaguely aware that it needed to be rationed, too. In the dim light, Manny’s cries seemed to merge with the howl of the storm.

Darcie’s throat felt parched as she realized she hadn’t had anything to drink for hours. Her hands trembled as she carefully settled Manny back into his car seat. Stepping out into the biting cold, she winced as the icy wind whipped at her arms and face, the thin fabric of her shirt offering little protection. Shivering uncontrollably, she opened her mouth, desperate to catch the falling snowflakes, then scooped up handfuls of snow to bring to her lips. She filled Manny’s bottle with snow, her fingers growing numb with each touch.

Back in the car, Darcie fumbled with the ignition, finally starting the engine and cranking up the heater. She felt a trickle of blood running down the back of her neck and pressed a fresh spot on the diaper against the wound. Manny had fallen asleep, and she thought she might close her eyes, too, just for a little bit.

How many hours had gone by? She wasn’t sure, but the darkness outside hinted that midnight had long passed.

In the silent hours before dawn, the whirring heater fan sputtered and died.

With a sigh, Darcie reclined in the seat, clutching Manny tightly against her chest, his small blanket cocooning them both. His cries gradually softened into hoarse whimpers until exhaustion finally lulled him to sleep, his tiny breaths rising and falling evenly. She scanned the desolate road, hoping for the distant headlights of a passing truck.

Darcie dozed and woke shivering. Frost crept along the inside of the windows now. She tightened the blanket around Manny. Her thoughts raced, fear gnawing at her insides as she imagined the worst. How could she have been so reckless and selfish? She hadn’t been thinking about Manny at all when she’d fled, driving blindly onto unfamiliar streets.

The wind outside had stilled, leaving an indifferent silence in its wake, punctuated only by the occasional distant creak of branches. Darcie touched her lips with her fingertips, savoring the warmth of her breath. A gentle, comforting feeling gradually enveloped her, easing the night’s chill. In the edges of her awareness, Manny’s faint whimpering resonated like a distant echo. She reached for him in her half-sleep, but her limbs felt impossibly heavy. Serenity wrapped around her, inviting her into a deep, peaceful surrender to sleep.

There were voices—distant at first, then growing clearer and more urgent. The car shook as if gripped by unseen hands.

Darcie’s fog of sleep began to lift as she strained to listen through the commotion. Outside, someone wrestled with the frozen door; the crunch of boots on snow and muttered curses filled the air. Then, with a sudden release, the door gave way. Darcie blinked, her eyes adjusting to the stark white of the snow-covered prairie beyond.

Ron’s voice cut through the cold, edged with urgency. “Darce?” His breath clouded in the frigid air.

Beside him, Arlene’s face appeared, her eyes wide with fear.

“Where’s the baby?” she asked, her gaze darting across the car’s interior.

A medic brushed past them, swiftly lifting Manny into his arms and wrapping him in a reflective thermo blanket that glinted in the light.

“Oh my god, Darce.” Ron appeared at her side, his presence reassuring. She felt hands lifting her onto a stretcher.

“Darcie, I’m following you to the hospital, and your mom and dad are on their way too!” Renee’s voice reached her, thick with worry.

Ron hurried into the ambulance, sliding into the narrow space beside Darcie. In her arms, Manny whimpered softly, nestled close against her chest under the hum of fluorescent lights. The medic, at end of the stretcher, adjusted IV lines and monitoring screens.

Darcie managed a weak smile through her oxygen mask, her voice a faint whisper, “I’m sorry, Ron.”

As the ambulance doors began their metallic creak to close, Arlene approached, her presence stark against the whirl of emergency lights. Her voice carried an abrupt, strained note that Darcie couldn’t quite identify.

“Ron, Aunt Trudy just got in from Houston,” she said, her gaze flickering briefly towards Darcie before returning to her son. “Your cousin, Cooper, is driving her to meet us. It’s been so long since you boys tossed the football around together.”

Her attempt at lightness faltered under the weight of the moment, her next words tinged with regret.

“I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances we’re all reuniting.”

“Fine, Mom,” Ron said curtly, dismissing her words with a wave as he turned back to Darcie, squeezing her hand.

An acorn of fear planted itself in the pit of Darcie’s stomach as the ambulance lurched forward.

She tore off her oxygen mask, urgency sharpening her voice. “What? What did your mom just say?”

“Shh.” Ron’s eyes glistened as he gently replaced the mask.

Darcie persisted, her words muffled. “No, but what did your mom say about your aunt and cousin? Who’s coming to the hospital?” 

Ron, seeming to tune out her concerns, focused intently on her.

“It’s just us now—you, me, and Manny. That’s what matters.” His voice was thick with unspoken emotions as he brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead.

Sorrow tinged his words as he whispered, “Hey, we’re gonna be all right, right, Darce?”

▪ ▪ ▪

Sally Franco’s short fiction has appeared in The Legacy and Short Édition. Texas-born and of Mexican descent, she has lived in New Mexico, Utah, and Vermont and often draws on her travels in Western and Eastern Europe. Read her commentary on her story.

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