“Best ye don’ look girl.” 

“I have to.”  

“Olive, why d’ya watch it from up dere?”  

“Because they make the best lemonade. And if I look from the top, here, I can just see it.” I miss it so much. 

 “Whatcha see, girl?”  

 Olive looked at her friend.  I see it all now. “Oh Abby. I know you can’t get up anymore.”  

 “Leave it be girl.  I ne’er wanted to be reminded.” Abby watched Olive’s hand slide along the stone, gray wall, to catch herself on the window frame. “One day, y’ll fall an’ break yer damn fool neck.”  

Olive snorted “It hardly matter now, does it.” I could have done it different. “What do I see, you ask. I can already see that heat shimmer on the desert.  And that perfect line where the frost settled on the mountains last night. The buzzards circle around, floating on the updraft.” 

“If I move a little,” Olive stood on her toes and stretched her head up “I can see between the bank building and the town hall. The little store looks much as it did, forever.” She relaxed. “Did you ever go there, Abby? After, I mean.”  

Abby didn’t answer.  

Olive looked across at the frail woman. I could have done what you did … and ran. Abby leaned on the wall with her head resting on her chest. “Sleep well Abby.”  

“Wha’d ya say?”  

“The screen door, with the squeaky hinges, still needs to be painted. Those sweaty, sunburned tourists stream in, like it’s the only place in town to cool down.” Cooling down would have helped. “I remember the little beads of sweat on the side of the glass and how the cool spread out from my stomach through my whole body!” 

“Mmmm” Abby sighed.  

Olive continued “Yeah, and how it felt to go from the hot sun to sit under the umbrella on the patio. I can’t see that.” She closed her eyes. “But I can imagine the relief they feel. Shade and lemonade.”  

She pushed herself from the window and sat. I didn’t have to go there with him. 

“You know Abby, I don’t see any locals going in there.  Only tourists. I wonder what all my friends are doing now.” Not that I had any real friends. ” Do they still serve lemonade in those tall glasses?”  

Abby stood and stretched. “Dat’s yer problem girl. Ya tink too much. Mus’n be time ta eat.”  

I didn’t think.  That’s the problem. “That’s all I have left Abby. You know that. I’m not hungry.”  

“But ya was’n away girl. Ya need ta break yer fas’n.” 

“Breakfast?” Olive cringed “Not today.” I didn’t get to eat that day either.  

“Why didn’t I run Abby?”  

“I know ya din’t ‘ave a way out Olive. Tings ‘appen.” 

Tears rolled done Olive’s cheeks. “I could have ran.” She coughed “I had that broken glass in my hand.”  

Abby interrupted “Ya don need talk of that.”  

Thanks for coming back Mom. 

The sharp voice of the guard pierced through the heavy air. “It’s time Olive.  What do you want for your last meal?”  

“Just a lemonade.”