kimberly crow
the gold hoop
The Dunlop twins were asleep, or at least they seemed to be. Their bodies had stopped squirming under their matching floral quilts sometime during the fifth round of the music box. Sam slowly closed the door, turning the knob beforehand, so it didn’t click. She paused a moment in the hall to detect any noise. It wouldn’t be the first time the twins tried to con her, but all was quiet upstairs.
Sam tiptoed into the master suite and flipped the switch. The room was tidy but unpretentious. A magazine lay flipped open on the nightstand, the hamper was due to be emptied, and one of Mrs. Dunlop’s pencil skirts sat draped over a chair.
Was she still Mrs. Dunlop? Mr. Dunlop had moved out sometime during the Fall. It was all Sam’s mother, and everyone else on the street could talk about when Sam had come home for Thanksgiving.
“That poor woman,” her mom had said. “A successful attorney with two young girls. I told her you’d help her out when you come back for winter break.”
Sam never liked babysitting but was captivated by Mrs. Dunlop. She conveyed absolute confidence, always poised and well-dressed. She and her husband had moved into the neighborhood when Sam was in the eighth grade, and even then, Sam often found herself staring. Being in the woman’s presence made her heart dance. At her first coed party, when everyone played spin the bottle and Jacob Novak’s spin pointed to her, it was Mrs. Dunlop Sam thought of when their lips touched, not Jacob’s.
There weren’t any pictures of Mr. Dunlop in the room, just a few frames of the twins with braids and sly smiles. On the edge of the bed was a nightgown the color of moonlight. Sam hesitated before picking it up and inhaling, breathing in eucalyptus, mint, and pear. She rubbed the silk along her cheek and thought of the frat brothers at school, who were bristly and reeked of cologne. They smelled nothing like Mrs. Dunlop’s lingerie. The few parties her roommates had dragged her to were alarming. Too many strobe lights and sweating bodies. She played along each time, sipping sour apple Pucker and following boys into dark corners, but she never understood the allure.
Sam went to the dresser and ran her fingers over her neighbor’s jewelry. She inspected a pair of small gold hoop earrings with pavé diamonds that reflected in the mirror. They looked like something Mrs. Dunlop would wear to dinner with her girlfriends, something formal but intimate. She imagined Mrs. Dunlop putting them on, sweeping her blonde hair behind her shoulders and leaning in close. When Sam pictured her smiling, she was smiling at Sam.
The door down the hall opened. Sam dropped one of the earrings onto the rug. She picked it up and shoved it into her pocket.
“What are you doing?” Annette asked, or perhaps it was Caroline. The spike in Sam’s adrenaline blurred her vision.
“Your mom told me I could borrow a top, but I can’t find it. I guess I’ll wait until she gets home.”
Sam was proud of her quick thinking, but the girl looked suspicious. She cocked her head and said, “Your boobs are too big to fit in her clothes.” Sam blushed and wrapped her arms around her chest.
“Back to bed.”
#
Downstairs, Sam waited in the kitchen for Mrs. Dunlop. She sat staring at the earring, rolling it between her fingers. She didn’t want to steal but felt she needed it. When she heard the garage door open, she returned the earring to her pocket and adjusted her posture. Mrs. Dunlop walked in with her arms full of folders.
“Let me help you.”
Sam took the paperwork and stacked it on the table.
“What a fucking day,” said Mrs. Dunlop. She hung her purse on the back of a chair and tossed her keys onto the counter. “How’d everything go?”
“Fine.”
Sam half expected Mrs. Dunlop to detect her uneasiness, but all she did was nod. “I need a beer,” she said. “Want one?” She untucked her blouse and opened the fridge. “You’re old enough, right?”
“Almost twenty,” Sam said, although she had only turned nineteen a few months ago. Twenty made her seem more like an adult, someone Mrs. Dunlop could relate to.
“Good enough for me.”
Mrs. Dunlop’s blouse drooped as she bent to grab the drinks. Sam could see a patch of her stomach, soft and pale and slightly rounded. Sam’s mouth dried up as she visualized her undressing for bed.
“You probably drink every night at college.” She handed Sam a cold bottle. “How was your first semester?”
Sam’s first months away from home had been uneasy. All the freshmen seemed to either fit in immediately or hide away in the library to study. Sam was neither social nor studious. She spent a lot of time roaming campus alone. It was easier than figuring out how to act.
Sam rubbed her fingers over the lump of the earring.
“It was alright.”
She glanced up to find Mrs. Dunlop studying her. Even after working well past office hours, her hairdo, a low bun, had only now begun to unravel. A single strand fell and curved under her chin. She looked more stunning than ever. Mrs. Dunlop reached across the counter and rested her hand on Sam’s arm, which instantly prickled with goosebumps. Her touch was cool but warmed as the seconds passed.
“You’ll find your way, honey. Trust me.”
Sam’s eyes stung. “Thank you, Mrs. Dunlop.”
“Geez, Sam, call me Karen. The way you talk makes me sound ancient. Plus, I won’t be a missus much longer.”
Karen smiled, and something within Sam started to uncoil. In the dimly lit kitchen with darkness pressing on the windows, she felt her life expand. It grew beyond what she understood and what she accepted into something less terrifying, something as bright and delicate as the gold hoop tucked inside her pocket.
Kimberly Crow is an accountant living in Massachusetts with her two young children, husband, and roughly three billion LEGO pieces. When she’s not working or parenting (or picking up LEGOs), she’s writing novels and flash fiction, spending time outdoors with her family, or fantasizing about moving to London. This is her first published story.