We’ll Always Have Innisfree
“But we’re the anomaly!” I polished so vehemently that my elbow
ached. “We’re Anne of Green Gables and Diana of the Lake of Shining
Waters. We’re the kindred spirits.”
“Kindred spirits aren’t as scarce as you’d think.”
The tomato spot lessened as my cleaning grew more vigorous.
Peering out the window, I saw that the rain had slowed to a trickle.
Every few seconds, a drop reverberated off of the tin gutters. I murmured: “In the end, there was only one Diana.”
“You’re my best friend, too, Ruthie.”
For a moment, I paused my scouring and glanced up at her with
a smile.
“So these nightmares . . .” Grace persisted.
“There’s nothing I can do about them.” I shifted back to the counter
and that tenacious tomato stain.
“Yes, there is.”
Refusing to face her, I kept working at the stain. It peeled off, little
by little, the flecks of red-brown collecting in the cloth. The aroma of
Clorox mingling with lentils, the cold shine of the granite, the dry itch
the chemicals induced in my skin—I focused on all of these, attempting
to ignore Grace’s wise gaze.
“Ruthie?”
“Yes?”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve heard that Innisfree is nice. Perhaps I will build a small cabin
there and live alone.”
“You’d risk rubbing elbows with Yeats. And what if I want to
visit?”
“You’ll have to brave the bee-loud glade.”
Grace’s eyes were downcast towards the soup, but I could tell they
were laughing from the way the sides crinkled ever so slightly.
After a minute, Grace spoke, her voice measured and earnest.
“Despite what you may think, some people are good.”
“Well, there’s you.”
“Give them a chance,” she pushed. “One day they might surprise
you.”
“And if they don’t?” I asked, eyes on my hand, pressing harder as I
rubbed at the countertop.
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