#also good poke recipes. made it for my sis and for the kids many times and they are fans.

[beholdthemem]

I am not 100% confident in this pie, but I can at least say that I am pretty sure the pork shoulder will be good.

[beatricemillerstory]

Beatrice Miller

 Chapter Three

 Long ago…

 When Beatrice and Abbey were young girls, they lived in a complex much like the one they live in today. But it was a different kind of complex. It was for low-income families. Beatrice loved her father, and he always tried his best, but his science degree didn’t get him where he needed to go, career-wise, so he stayed home doing research most of the time while her mother worked two jobs at two different grocery stores.                Beatrice remembers sitting with her father most days when she was unable to go to school due to the lack of school payments, and the fact that Beatrice would always find herself sick with gut rot and headaches. Her father would teach her all about the way microbes would live on in any environment and how they made up parts of every living thing. She hated how her father would always get into his lectures without first teaching Beatrice the basics – but she loved how passionate he was about his research and she loved even more how passionate he was about her.                With her mother being gone most of the time for work, Beatrice knew there was something about her and her fathers’ relationship that didn’t seem quite right because she never saw her mother and father be intimate with each other – but frequently would Beatrice and her father be intimate with each other. Or rather, he would be intimate with Beatrice. She always remembered the pain that would come from his touch.                Beatrice’ childhood would become something that she would never have known different from the other kids as her mother never did put her back into school but kept her at home to sail through her grades as her father would take on the role of being her at-home teacher. She graduated high school by the time she was 13-years-old.                Beatrice had a friend in Abbey, as they’d spent only two years in single-digit grade school together and being the only kids from their grade-school that were from low-income families. Abbey would come over frequently to visit Beatrice and together they would play in the two hours of the afternoon that were pink and orange in the sky from beautiful prairie sunsets.

Abbey’s parents were similar though it was her dad that worked two jobs. Her mother stayed at home taking care of the five children they’d managed to reproduce over years of alcohol abuse and common sexual mistakes. Abbey was the youngest of the five – and the only girl. One night would be the night to change their lives forever as her four older brothers – who loved her dearly – would drive out to the football field to practice some but, unfortunately, they would never return; flipping the truck over on the side of the highway back to the city.                After Abbey’s brother’s untimely death, Abbey spent more and more time over at Beatrice’ house. Yes, Beatrice’ father tried once to get the girls to do some very unchildlike things, but Abbey was always strong-willed and by this time the girls were now teenagers, so because of the fact that Beatrice’ father was also a sort of timid man, he never did touch Beatrice in the painful way that she remembered ever again. She would always be grateful to Abbey for coming into their home and saving Beatrice from a daily routine of having sex with her father. Beatrice learned from Abbey that a man doesn’t have any power over you if you show him you have the same amount of power over him. Abbey would, from then on, be known to Beatrice as her hero.                Beatrice and her father never did talk about it. Nor did she talk about it with her mother. It was something her mother didn’t need. Furthermore, and only a couple years later, Beatrice’ father would proceed to end his own life with a bottle of pills and a symmetrical bottle of Jack Daniels. Beatrice would, from then on, never consume or come close to the rotten-apple-like beverage again.

Years would go by and Beatrice spent most of her time at Abbey’s house – they would help around the place by cleaning up and cooking meals together. Beatrice learned quickly, from Abbey’s depressed and shattered mother, how to bake the most delicious pies. It was Beatrice’ way of saying, “Thank you for not leaving me alone.”

 Wednesday 5:31 PM

 A knock at the door.  Beatrice slowly takes off her oven mitts and allows the oven to remain open, cooling the multi-berry cinnamon pie resting inside. She recognizes the knock. It was a knock that she and Abbey would use so they would recognize each other from behind closed doors as girls. 

               “Beatrice,” Abbey starts to say. She stands confidently in a silk robe and bedazzled heels. She pulls a bottle of wine out from behind her back. “Bryce is gone for the night, he has two interviews! So,” Abbey bites her bottom lip and reaches behind her with her other hand and pulls out the same brand of vodka that hides below Beatrice’ sink. “I was thinking we would have a girl’s night!”                “Oh, please come in!” Beatrice says excitedly. “I would really love that, Abbey.”                “It’s been so long,” Abbey says as she gracefully walks toward the counter in the kitchen. She sits at a bar stool and watches Beatrice continue to tend to the pie. Something Abbey has seen her do many times. “That is multi-berry…” Abbey sniffs aggressively, “And cinnamon!” A tear forms in Abbey’s eyes and Beatrice wonders if she somehow knew that Abbey would come over tonight. This pie recipe was and probably always will be Abbey’s favorite. “Bee. It smells just like hers. How do you do it?” Abbey is referring to her as Bee as she used to when they were girls. She is also referring to her mother’s recipe when she says hers.                “I always loved this pie. Mostly because it was the first one I ever tried from your mother. Remember? I came into the house and you screamed that I just had to try this pie!?”                “I will always remember, Bee,” Abbey says as she pops a cork and pours two glasses of Chardonnay. They both sit down with their pie and wine.                Beatrice looks around her kitchen. She surveys the room, learning her surroundings like it’s her first time every time. She notices Abbey’s purse sloppily placed on the kitchen counter, right where Beatrice usually puts her cell phone and smiles to herself.                “What’s on your mind, sis?” Abbey asks. Abbey and Beatrice will always call each other sisters.                “A lot. I’m glad you’re here.” A tear rolls down Beatrice’ cheek and she quickly wipes it off, annoyed that she can’t control her emotions.                “Oh, honey!” Abbey reaches across the table to place her hands on Beatrice’ but slips and knocks Beatrice’ glass of the table, falling to the wood floor and shattering. “Beatrice! I’m so sorry!” Abbey exclaims.                “It’s fine, Abbey. I’ll clean this up, and you go get another glass.” Beatrice doesn’t like a mess. Abbey creates messes. It doesn’t upset Beatrice. What else could she do with her time other than clean up messes? She smiles to herself and how bad Abbey can feel about these kinds of things. Beatrice reassures her that it’s okay.                Beatrice bends down with her hand broom and a flash of the same image of her husband and two kids right where Abbey is standing, and she gasps. Abbey returns to the table right away and sits her back down. “Please, tell me what’s going on in that head. I will finish cleaning this up.”                “You know how I used to black out all the time when I was a kid?” Beatrice starts. As a child, Beatrice would have moments that she wouldn’t be able to recall. She would try to think of things that had just happened, and she wasn’t able to pull up a memory of any kind. They would be sporadic, and they could be short or long periods of time where she felt she wasn’t there.                “Yes, of course,” Abbey replies. Her eyes now locked on Beatrice’.                “I don’t think I’ve ever stopped having those episodes,” Beatrice says.                “You may not ever stop having them, Bee.” Abbey comforts. “I think it was because of your dad, as much as I hate to say it, your brain did you a favor.”                “But I wish I could remember anything. It’s not just what he did to me. It’s everything. I don’t remember either of their funerals. I don’t remember moving any of our belongings into this house. Most importantly, I don’t remember what Mark and I were doing the night he and the kids went missing.” Beatrice takes a bite of pie and chews slowly through her tears. “I feel so helpless. I feel like I don’t know who I am anymore, and I need you to help me. You’re all I have left, Abbey.”                Beatrice notices Abbey take a minute to collect herself. She probably doesn’t want to break down in front of her as she used to do when Beatrice would have to stay at her house, as children, when her parents fought. “I am here for you. I hope you know that. I’m right here. And I have all your memories in my head. You just ask for one and I will pull it up.” They both gently laugh.                “You’re like my own personal Google.” Beatrice makes a joke. Abbey notices how long it’s been since Beatrice has been funny. And with everything Beatrice went through, she was always funny. But they both know that Beatrice hasn’t been able to be funny in a long while now.                “Bee, it hurts me to see you this way.” Abbey stops talking, poking the tip of her nose with her index finger. “Maybe we should get out of the house and go do something tonight? Tomorrow?”                “Tonight would be nice,” Beatrice replies. She notices Abbey’s surprise to her immediate acknowledgment. “I know, I know. But it’s probably a good idea. I’d love to get out of the house because every time I stay in, all I do is stare at everything and I always see…”                “See what?”                “I see them all. Right there.” Beatrice points to the kitchen floor. “I see them all laying on the kitchen floor in their own blood. They are all dead. I see it all the time. All the time. And it scares me because…is it possible that something happened to them and I just don’t remember?”                “Honey,” Abbey takes a deep breath and looks Beatrice in the eyes. “I was here the night the cops came to the house with the news. The house was immaculate, and the boys weren’t here. They weren’t. I assure you. I don’t remember what you guys did before the boys all left because I wasn’t here, but all I know is that you didn’t do anything, and something terrible like that did not happen.”                “How can you be so sure?” Beatrice says. Slowly, tears start to fall from her eyes.                “Because I just am. I don’t have that feeling something bad happened. You know I can always sense when something bad is happening.”                “Yeah.” Beatrice did trust Abbey’s sense of danger.                “Okay!” Abbey stands quickly and shocks the tears out of Beatrice’ eyes. “Let’s go get a slutty little dress on you and I will do your hair!”                Beatrice smiles and her stomach turns in a way that tells her, you shouldn’t be going out into public right now, but Beatrice ignores the feeling and allows her friend to drag her up to her bedroom and pamper her for a much needed night out. They run together, up the stairs, like little kids.

 Wednesday 6:16 PM

Abigale walks around her friend’s bedroom and waits patiently for Beatrice to come out of the closet wearing the clothes that she picked out for her. She’s nervous that Beatrice won’t have a good time, but she doesn’t let it bother her. She is here to help her feel better. Beatrice has been through so much in her life and it’s not fair. Beatrice is good people. She doesn’t deserve the painful life she was handed. So, Abbey is excited to get her out and show her who she really is again. Maybe it will help her recall memories too. If Abbey knew anything it was that sometimes a distraction can be good for the human brain to process life.                “How’s it going in there, Bee?” Abbey shouts as she sits down on the foot of Beatrice’ bed.                “One second!” Beatrice replies.                Abbey looks out the window to look at the front of her own house across the way. She notices her little flower garden and smiles to herself, sighing at the beauty she created. Then she notices Bryce’s car. She thinks to herself, ‘he wasn’t supposed to be home until late. I hope he’s okay. Her eyes move up the front of the house to her bedroom window and she sees him. He is staring into Beatrice’ bedroom. Abbey’s stomach flips and she feels dizzy. He looks so creepy. She’s never seen him in that way before. ‘What is he doing?’ She thinks to herself. She stands from the bed and walks over to the window and instead of waving at her, he drops to the floor letting the curtains sway. ‘Does he look over here in Beatrice’ bedroom often?’ She thinks to herself. She feels her face get hot. Her stomach in knots. She thinks, ‘is my husband a peep?’                “How do I look!?” Beatrice pops out of the closet in a skin-tight black dress with a slit down her left thigh and a pearl necklace around her long neck.                Abbey slowly looks around the room from the window to Beatrice. “You look incredible,” she says.                “What’s the matter?” Beatrice asks, her face flushing from the euphoria.                Abbey realizes she’s been staring blankly for too long and fixes herself. “Yes. I’m fine. I think I’m just hungry. You look so sexy. Let’s go!”                ‘But what the fuck is my husband doing staring into your bedroom?’ She thinks.

JR McWilliam

Chapter Four coming soon...