Phoebe Herrera, “Love[d] You”
“How much?” The woman asked, a bit breathless as she stared at the tiny bottle in front of her. The apothecary was quiet with just the shop owner and the other woman on the other side of the counter. The owner eyed her, but made no comment on her hesitance.
“How much do you have?” The owner asked instead.
The woman rummaged through her pockets, almost turning them inside out. She stilled and pathetically pulled out a few metal coins. She set them on the counter and met the eyes of the owner. “Not much.”
The shop owner looked at her customer through her glasses. Running a company by herself had taught her to observe people. It was useful needing to know when someone she was bargaining with was lying to her. Or when someone came in with the intention to steal something from her shelves. Looking at the woman in front of her, she noticed a bruise forming behind a veil of hair, hands twisting in her skirt, the slight way she favored standing on her right foot.
Women typically only entered her shop for two reasons. Either a mother came in looking for medicine for her ill child. Or a wife came in looking to add an extra ingredient to her husband’s drink. The woman in front of her seemed to be the latter.
“Are you going to go through with it?” The shop owner said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.
The woman looks back at her as surprised as the shop owner. This had been the closest she had ever come to actually saying what the tiny bottle of liquid was for. Normally, she would give it without a second thought when she realized what it was for, but there was something in the woman’s eyes that gave her pause. No, that wasn’t the right question to ask.
“What are you going to do after you do it?” The owner rephrased. The battered woman immediately went to stare at something on the ground. The way she seemed to fold into herself, wanting to make herself disappear. Each time a woman brought a bottle to the counter, the owner could see that woman walking out with a purpose in their step, heading toward a path of their choosing.
“I give these ingredients to women that want to move on with their lives. I give this to the women who need a little help to get to the future without the pain and suffering they currently find themselves in.” The owner took a breath. “I need to know that when you give a drink to your husband, that you won’t take a sip out of the same glass.”
The woman stared back at the owner with tears glistening in her eyes and a pleading expression that asked how did you know? The owner allowed her to release a few tears before she finally wiped at her eyes and a steely resolve was replaced there. The woman nodded once, put the few coins she had on the counter and grabbed the bottle. The shop owner watched her walk out with a purpose and bright future.