The One

First published in Free Flash Fiction.

I watch the two of you stroll hand-in-hand around the man-made lake in the center of the park, smiling, laughing, ignoring me. Perfect.

The water in the lake is murky due to last night’s heavy rain. The family of mallards swimming military style don’t appear to care. They make lousy witnesses, anyway.

Thanks to a friendly neighbor in your apartment building, I know your name is Carol. His name doesn’t matter. Does it.

You approach a bench with a seat-back advertisement for Siegfried’s Amusement Park. I wonder if you’ve ever been there. I close my eyes and watch what’s-his-face fall from the top of the Ferris wheel. You look over the edge and scream with him, as do the others watching on. Well, except me.

You point a manicured finger across the lake in my direction. I know it’s manicured. I watched the sandy-haired blonde in the mall kiosk do it. Do you know they closed the mall? It’s going to be a roller skating rink. I wonder if you know how to skate. You do? Perfect.

I wave and smile, binoculars covering my face. You tap who’s it on the shoulder and say something. He holds a hand over his brow and looks my way. He removes his phone and pokes at it. Is he calling 911? I’ll be long gone before the cavalry arrives.

But I’ll be back.

‘Cause you’re Perfect.

In Pursuit

First published in Suddenly and Without Warning (12/2/24)

Robert looked up as the doors closed on the northbound commuter train. He gasped when he recognized a familiar face. Vivian, his wife of twelve years, stood on the platform wearing her favorite red coat. *It can’t be,* he thought. *She disappeared eight months ago*.

He pounded on a window to get her attention, but she kept moving farther away. He reached for the emergency stop cable, missed, and fell. By the time he recovered his balance, it was too late. Too late to stop the train. Too late for him to confront his wife. 

Still shaking, Robert exited the train at the next stop. He looked around like a man lost in the desert. He sped toward the escalator and saw a flash of red near the top. Pushing his way up the crowded stairway to a chorus of jeers, he reached the apex just as Vivian rounded another corner and out of view.

He maneuvered the intersection at top speed, looked ahead, and realized where she was going, St. Patrick’s Presbyterian Church, where they were married. He bolted toward the front steps and saw the wind-blown hem of her coat leading him to the cemetery in back. She stood over a stone, her head bowed.

As Robert neared, he stuck out his hand and grabbed air. There was no one there. 

Exhausted, he sat on a stone bench and looked down at the inscription on the grave facing him.

Robert Lewis Stevens — 1962-1994

Vivian Agustus Stevens — 1964-

Our Song

I was supposed to be home talking things over with Rosie, her idea, not mine. 

I reminded her the band had a last-minute practice for the wedding reception on Saturday. We needed to learn two songs the bride requested at the last minute. Rosie sighed and said we’d talk when I got home. The stern look on her face told me she was serious.

The other three were already setup when I arrived for rehearsal. I lifted my guitar out of its case, plugged it in, strummed a few chords, and nodded. I was ready to go. 

We played a song we knew to get in the mood. We did this at the beginning of every practice. Still, I couldn’t shake the angst I felt about the conversation with my wife. She hadn’t said what she wanted to discuss, but I had a good idea. She told me often enough I was out of the house too much, and when I was there, I spent more time with the TV than her. She was lonely and felt abandoned.

She was right. I worked fifty hours most weeks and spent weekends providing music for a variety of events.

“Charlie, you with us?” Brian, the band’s leader and drummer said. 

I nodded. “Sorry, Rosie and I are . . .Never mind. I’m good,” I said, forcing a smile.

The first new song was “You Are the Sunshine of My Life” by Stevie Wonder. We all knew the song, but had never played it as a group. We picked it up with ease and moved on. I switched to the second song and found “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” by Simon and Garfunkel. I felt a tightness in my shoulders and the fingers of my left hand went numb. It was the song Rosie and I danced to at our wedding thirty-two years ago. 

Brian gave a count off, and the band began the intro. All of them except me. I stood, stiff, like a wax figurine at Madame Tussauds’. “Charlie, you sure you’re okay?” Brian asked.

I put the guitar in its case and waved as I walked toward the door. Perhaps it was time to have that talk with Rosie. “I’ll see you Saturday,” I said.

***

I smelled the popcorn before stepping into a short hallway leading to the living room on one side and dining room on the other. It was her comfort food, she told me. She ate it when she was upset, mostly with me.

Rosie sat on a worn sofa watching a comedy on the TV. She wasn’t laughing. “You’re home early,” she said, without looking my way. “Did they kick you out?”

“No, they didn’t kick me out,” I said, bile rising in my throat. She had that effect on my too often lately. “Why would you ask me that?”

“You know why.”

“I don’t have a clue.” I waited for her to munch on another handful of popcorn while attempting to keep my heart rate at a reasonable level.

“You want a clue?” She said, looking at me for the first time. “I’ll give you a clue.” She stood and marched over near where I stood, her face as red as a sunset on a hot summer evening. “How many times have you banged her?”

“What are you talking about?” I lost the battle to keep calm and stepped closer. “Banged who?”

“That new singer. Melody.”

“Her name is Melanie, and I’ve never touched her.”

“Lying won’t help you. Ever since she joined the band, you’ve been out later and later.”

“She had to learn our entire repertoire. You forgot her predecessor left with little notice when her husband was transferred to somewhere in New Mexico.” I took a deep breath and wished I had a beer, even though Rosie and I gave up drinking and smoking years ago. “Between work and practicing three nights a week, I’ve been too tired to have an affair with someone half my age.”

Rosie sat on the back of the couch, looked down, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I guess that’s why you haven’t had much time for me either.”

“No, I haven’t, and I’m sorry about that.” I pulled her to a standing position and took her in my arms. “Give me a week or two, and I’ll be all yours.”

“All mine?” she asked.

“Well, mostly yours.” I smiled, and Rosie smiled back.

That weekend I told Brian I was leaving the band. I offered to play through the end of the month. He said it wasn’t necessary. He had a replacement ready to go. I looked him in the eyes and took a few deep breaths. If I weren’t a pacifist, I’d have shoved him into his drum kit, hoping for the worst.

I haven’t played the guitar since that night. I’m sure I will sometime. Rosie and I have patched things up an are enjoying our expanded time together. “Especially the banging,” Rosie says, while crunching on some leftover popcorn. It seems popcorn is even better than a cigarette after sex.

“No, I haven’t, and I’m sorry about that.” I pulled her to a standing position and took her in my arms. “Give me a week or two, and I’ll be all yours.”

“All mine?” she asked.

“Well, mostly yours.” I smiled, and Rosie smiled back.

That weekend I told Brian I was leaving the band. I offered to play through the end of the month. He said it wasn’t necessary. He had a replacement ready to go. I looked him in the eyes and took a few deep breaths. If I weren’t a pacifist, I’d have shoved him into his drum kit, hoping for the worst.

I haven’t played the guitar since that night. I’m sure I will sometime. Rosie and I have patched things up an are enjoying our expanded time together. “Especially the banging,” Rosie says, while crunching on some leftover popcorn. It seems popcorn is even better than a cigarette after sex.

A Child is Born

I exited the Quick Stop sipping an orange Slurpee and found her in the back seat of my ten-year-old Camry. I didn’t know who she was, or why she chose my car. I did know she was about to have a baby, based on the size of her belly and the sounds emanating from her gaped mouth.

I called Mom to let her know I’d be late for Christmas Eve dinner. She thought I was pranking her when I explained why.

I agreed to drive the intruder to the hospital. It wasn’t far.

Traffic came to a halt when we were three blocks away. The honking due to an accident at the intersection ahead told me the hospital might as well be three miles away. 

“At least my water broke before I got in the car.”

“Your what what?” I felt light-headed.

I considered driving down the sidewalk, but there were too many holiday shoppers. I might hit someone paying more attention to their phone than where they were walking.

A scream from inside the car obliterated all the other sounds. I peeked over my shoulder. She was lying on the seat, knees up, legs spread, skirt bunched against her waist. “It’s coming,” she said.

“N-O-O-O,” I responded. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t let me.

I looked around. “Help. She’s having a baby!” Everyone stared straight ahead. “She’s your wife,” a cabbie missing a front tooth yelled. “Man up.”

“She isn’t. I don’t — “

A second scream interrupted me. 

“It’s coming now. Get in here.”

A young woman walked by with peacock strides. My fingers formed a church steeple. She gave me the finger.

I opened the car door. Noticed she was not a natural blond. Averted my eyes.

“Oh, come on. You’ve seen a — um — you know before.”

Actually, this was my first. 

“Okay,” I said,” just breathe. . .or relax. . .or whatever it is you’re supposed to do.”

“I am, you idiot. Now get your hands in there and get ready.”

I put my hands between her legs and closed my eyes. After two more grunts and three screams, I felt something wet in my hands. I looked down and saw a baby boy curled up in my fingers. 

“I thought it took longer to have a baby.” I said.

”This is my fourth trip to the hospital. Don’t ask.” 

“In the movies, they spank a newborn to get its motor started. Right?” 

She nodded. I slapped the boy lightly, afraid I might hurt him.

“Harder,” she yelled. 

I did as I was told, and the kid started crying. The sound reminded me of an opera my mother dragged me to once. Just as I thought I might throw up, a team of paramedics arrived having run from the hospital. I wondered if Peacock Lady was responsible for their timely arrival.

“What’s your name, Cowboy?” the new mother asked.

“Joseph. What’s yours?”

“Mary, 

Laughing, I asked. “What do you think we should name the baby?”

Mystery Solved

“It couldn’t have been Nancy,” Jason shouted. “She died six years ago.”

“I tell you it was her voice on the phone. No doubt.” Charles shifted to a lower gear in his racing green, 1979 MGB replica. He loved driving down back roads with the windows down and music playing in the wind. Today’s selections were from the movie “Mama Mia”. The mist hanging in the air provided extra intrigue for whatever it was the brothers were getting into.

“There is software that can learn how to have a conversation using a particular voice pattern,” Jason said. He wiggled in his seat trying to find a little more room. His body wasn’t meant for small places.

“I suppose you believe aliens landed in the New Mexico desert, too.”

They continued down the dirt road in silence, a tail of dust in their wake. Charles stared straight ahead. Jason, his right hand clutched to the window handle, counted the dead trees and wondered if he might join them soon. “Could you slow down a little, please?”

Charles ignored him. 

“So why do you think she told us to drive to the old Jamerson place,” Charles said. As he neared their destination, he realized his grip on the steering wheel had gotten tighter. He flexed his fingers to relax them. “I thought it was abandoned.”

“I heard some rich guy bought it and turned it into an event center.”

“Did Mom leave any other clues as to what’s going on?” 

Jason shifted in his seat. The bumpy ride provided by the ground hugging machine was doing a job on his spine. He’d need to see his chiropractor when he returned home. If he returned home.

“Just to bring you and the manilla envelope she’d left in the safe.” Jason said, as he continued to count trees. “This is getting creepy.”

“You got that right,” Charles said. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm his nerves. They didn’t help.

The brothers fell silent again, until Charles took a second corner too fast. The car felt like it was about to roll over, as the rear end slued to the right.

“Jesus, Charles, let’s at least get there before we crash and burn.

Charles eased up on the gas pedal.

Looking ahead, the brothers watched the Civil War mansion appear in the thinning mist. A large, white barn stood off to one side. The parking area next to the house was empty.

“You sure we have the right day?” Charles asked.

Jason removed a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and read from it. “Saturday, May 4, 6 PM, 13548 Overton Road. Don’t be late!” He put the paper back. “Maybe the caller dialed the wrong number.”

“I told you. It was Nancy.” 

Charles pulled into a parking spot and wondered if he should turn around and go home or see what awaited inside. The writing on the envelop said to not open until they were in the living room. He swatted an insect away and thought about opening the envelop. Being superstitious, he decided to follow the directions as given.

The brothers climbed the stairs to the front porch. “Open it,” Charles said, pointing at the door.

“You open it,” Jason replied. “We’re here because of you.”

Charles hesitated before slowly turning the door knob. They stepped inside and saw a large room to the right. He nodded to Jason. Jason nodded back. They entered the room together.

The blinds were closed leaving the room mostly in the dark. They could see a brown corner sofa and armchair to their right. A game table and four chairs waited on the opposite wall. There were two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves straight ahead.

“Maybe it’s time you open the envelope,” Jason whispered.

“You think?” Charles asked.

Jason nodded his head several times.

Charles opened the envelope as if he was expecting it to contain a bomb. Jason offered a few more encouraging nods.

Charles finally reached into the envelope and pulled out a single piece of paper with one word on it. He turned it so Jason could see. 

SURPRISE!

He was about to say something when the lights went on and the room filled with people yelling.

“Surprise!”

“Happy 50th birthday, Charles!”

“Fifty is nifty!”

“You made another one, you old goat.”

In front of him were thirty family and friends. Some had travelled a good distance to be here. He turned to Jason and cocked his arm as if he was going to slug his brother. Instead, he put a hand on his shoulder.

“You know how I hate parties.”

“And I know if I had told you in advance, you’d have found someplace else to drive that faux car of yours as an excuse for not showing up.”

“So, it wasn’t Nancy’s voice,” Charles said.

“No, that was the work of your nephew, Jacob. He’s the computer whiz in the family.”

Charles grabbed a glass of champagne off a tray, took a sip, and felt his body relax. He looked around at all the attendees laughing and seemingly enjoying themselves. He only wished his sister, Nancy, could be there.

***

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