Oh, What the Hell

First appeared at CommuterLit.com.

My memory's not what it used to be. The doctor says I might have early onset dementia, but I remember the night my Aunt Janine stormed into the house all livid--that's the word Mom used--and collapsed on the couch next to Rex, our Labradoodle. Her face was as red as the clay in our yard. Mom nodded at me, a signal I knew meant it was time to go upstairs.

Instead, I went into the dining room far enough so they couldn't see me and sat on the floor with my back to the wall. I could tell by her voice that Aunt Janine was really upset. Every time she said Uncle Bill's name, her voice elevated to a higher pitch. She talked and sobbed at the same time, which made it hard to understand what she was saying. That was okay, because a few words, especially those that surrounded Uncle Bill's name, weren't suitable for a ten-year-old's ears.

She told Mom how whenever she and Uncle Bill argued, which was a lot, Uncle Bill would rant and rave about being underappreciated, and then he'd storm out of the house saying he was going to see his friend James. Aunt Janine followed him tonight and saw Uncle Bill standing in front of an apartment building kissing someone who  definitely was not a James, unless James was a cross dresser with long, black hair, wearing a short dress that showed off a pair of athletic calves. Aunt Janine stopped talking and cried so hard she choked.

After a long silence, she said she didn't have any other family nearby and asked if she could spend the night. "I don't know what else to do." Then in a softer voice, she said, "You won't even know I'm here." I edged along the wall and saw Mom get up and bring her sister-n-law a glass of water, then hold Aunt Janine in her arms and rock her like she did me when I had a fever.

My mother said, "Of course, you can stay." Neither of them spoke after that, so I went to my bedroom and played with my Power Rangers until Mom hollered it was time to go to bed.

Now, forty years later, I'm sitting alone in my own home, on my own sofa, rubbing my Schnauzer Gus' belly with my right hand, and holding an empty Miller Lite in the left. I don't need to find a place to stay, not like Aunt Janine. My Karen and her 'James' ran off someplace. Her note didn't say where. I suspect Las Vegas. She's always wanted to go there.

I never understood what was going on in Aunt Janine's head that night long ago. I do now. And it sucks. Marriage is supposed to be forever. I keep making mental lists of what went wrong, what I did to make her leave. None of them make any sense to me. Maybe that's the real problem.

I've been fighting off the tears and the sobs and the angry words for three Millers. It's not a manly thing to do, but I wonder if it might help. Aunt Janine seemed better the next morning.

I look at Gus and he burps, as if to tell me to get on with it. I pet his stomach. He rolls on his back to give me better access. "Oh, what the hell, boy. It's only me and you."

Man's Best Friend

This week's 5 to 55 challenge from the Flash Factory. Prompt words below. 

We shared a salacious look. She on the jury. Me a hopeful. Her eyes flickered and danced, like a lantern on a windy night. I smiled. Leaned down. Gave TJ an enthusiastic pet. "Let's show these folks a winning routine." TJ raised a leg. Peed on a plant. I hoped for a rating above zero.

Prompt words: zero, dance, jury, lantern, salacious

Frustration

This week's 5 to 55 challenge from the Flash Factory. Prompt words below. 

The mustard stain barely showed on his yellow shirt, the result of eating too quickly at the wake. He would soon hasten the cleansing of the ephemeral gnawing at his brain with a shot of bourbon. He'd emailed the wicked witch sixteen times about a process he felt would improve productivity. She should have responded.

Prompt words: sixteen, mustard, bourbon, ephemeral, wicked

Again

This week’s 5 to 50/55 challenge. Prompt words below.

Emma traced the edge of a puffy cloud with a lavender tipped finger. The cloud had a peculiar shape. Like her love life. Her most recent attempt had ended in an expected climax. Her. Alone. Frustrated. Again. At a hotel. On a beach that most people appeared to avoid. Maybe they'd been dumped there, too. (55 words)

Prompt words: trace, lavender, peculiar, climax, hotel

A Family Affair

Jabari gazed down from the balcony of his mountaintop lab into the Valley of Death, so named because of the infestation of mutated zoysia grass that had choked out all the other vegetation in its path. Experts assumed the invader had hitched a ride on a supply ship carrying refugees from the Hektor agri-colony. The President had attempted to stop the migration to Earth, but the courts determined it was inhumane to keep the residents adrift in space for an indefinite time. Jabari had been assigned the task of stopping the intrusive growth before it choked the life out of Earth.

 "Is it working this time?"

Jabari responded to his sister Cara's question without turning around. "I'm afraid not. In fact, it appears to be spreading faster." After a deep breath he faced her, concern and confusion on his face. He shook his head and walked to his glass topped desk. "All of the lab results were positive. The spraying should have stifled the continuing encroachment."

"You'll figure it out," Cara said.

"I better, or else. . ." He put his elbows on the desk and rested his forehead in his hands. "People are losing faith in my ability to do the job."

Cara moved closer and gave her brother a hug. "It's okay. Everyone is scared and frustrated and has a need to take their frustrations out on someone." She stepped back, holding his hands. "Hey, you knew what you were facing when you accepted the job. You love a challenge." She smiled and hugged him again.

"You're right," Jabari replied. He pointed toward the folder in her hand. "Have you walked through the plant yet today?"

Cara, besides being Jabari's sister, was the Chief Operating Officer for the company and a damn fine one as far as Jabari was concerned. She walked the plant at least one day a week on a random schedule she only shared with her brother to see how things were going. Sometimes Jabari accompanied her.

"I just finished." She opened the notebook. "Security broke up a fight between two low level lab assistants and found a small packet of drugs on one. The fight was a disagreement over the price of the dope, according to another employee. I had security escort both gentleman out of the building and told them we'd send them their personal things in a few days." Cara looked at Jabari. "I hate letting people go, but this work is too important."

"The stress is getting to everyone. Still, you did the right thing. We can't allow rampant drug use. We all need clear minds." He reached for a pack of cigarettes perched on one corner of his desk. Cara frowned.

"I know. I know. I said I'd quit," Jabari said. "I'm working on it." Instead of retrieving a cigarette, he pushed the pack away. "Anything else?"

"No. How about you? Something is bothering you that you're not sharing. I can tell."

Jabari moved to a chair next to the fireplace and pointed Cara to another.

"I have this feeling I can't shake that someone else is controlling things here. I have no proof, nor any idea who or why. It's just a thought that keeps niggling at me." He stared at his sister. "Am I going crazy?"

"No. No." Cara shifted in her chair and leaned back. "You're under so much pressure, I wouldn't be surprised if you told me you were seeing ghosts." Cara laughed. "Or aliens even." She laughed again.

"It's funny you should mention aliens. That thought has crossed my mind. In fact, I think you may be right."

"O come on, Jabari. You know there's no such thing."

"There aren't?" Jabari leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees, his hands crossed between his legs. "You didn't think I'd notice, but you changed a few months ago, Sis, or whoever you are. At first, I  thought it was like you said--stress--but ever since our first successful attempt at slowing the intruder, things changed. You disappear for long periods. Business lunches, you say. But with whom?" Jabari paused, waiting for Cara to reply. When she didn't, he continued.

"Then there were certain looks that seemed odd to me. Looks of confusion about things you knew as well as I. One day you came into my office and your sweater was buttoned crooked. You would never make a mistake like that. You always double and triple checked your appearance before going anywhere. Still, I couldn't be certain until I followed you to one of your 'lunches.'" Jabari sat up. "Was it plain water you put into the crop duster's tanks?"

Cara shifted in her chair and put both feet on the floor. Her eyes appeared to glow.

"I don't know if I can kill the alien who has taken you over," Jabari continued, "or if you'll survive, but I have to try."

With that, Cara launched herself and grabbed Jabari's neck, her long fingernails piercing the skin. Jabari grabbed her wrists but was unable to dislodge them. He felt blood oozing down his neck. The alien's thumbs pressed on Jabari's windpipe causing Jabari to gasp for air. In desperation, Jabari let go of Cara's left wrist and jammed a finger into the attacker's eye. Cara emitted a low, hollow roar and fell to the floor. Jabari sensed another movement in the room and thought he saw a cloud-like figure escape through the glass as he reached down for his sister.

Cara opened her eyes, a muddled look on her face. She tried to speak, but Jabari placed a finger on her lips. "You rest," he said. "I'll explain everything later. In the meantime, I need to schedule an additional spraying and then figure out how to prepare for another alien attack."