Lynn

I peed myself a little when the phone rang like I used to when I heard her footsteps approaching. I knew it was the lady from the day before. She had found me somehow. Of course this was impossible and it was simply not the case. Stupid. I hear my own voice, shaky and managing an even higher pitch than usual, followed by the familiar sound of George, my neighbor. Yes, George. It was round and ripe and safe now. If only he knew. What if he were to know what I had stowed away and everything that came along with it? Cliché, but how a life can change in an instant when no one looking. There’s no going back or is there? Again, it is just as one’s shadow extends out always there, rarely seen yet still part of you, clinging. It has form, your form, and it’s not to be liked though there is that work to be done. George wants to play, but I’m not in the mood. I’m not having it. Not now. Not after this. So I tell him no and good night. It’s done. Over. But it remains in place, in my bag, where I shoved it on my way out the door. I see it protruding at a sharp unnatural angle. The leather is strained. I’ll let it be until morning. The phone rings again. It’s not George. It’s my mother and she’s no lady now. She has found me. It was possible. Her voice like mine is squeaking. What had I done with the evidence? She’s squawking now, accusing me. No one else could have taken it. My childhood held only the four of us and my brother got the hell out of Dodge to join a better family. I didn’t make it that far and return annually and too often. My dad long gone too, and lucky, leaves me guilty of theft at the least. It was his invention that she grabbed, looking like a miniature wooden Winnebago or some instrument created with parts flipping this way and that for a use only Dad could engineer, as it was his vocation practiced outside or inside the workshop. I knew the day would come when she would snap, but I was hoping to beat her to it with an expression more passive than aggressive. Here we were just the two of us and even with miles of space and electricity between us I am malleable, unable to manipulate the truth even to save myself if not us both. I cannot sever the connection. But what was the point? I thought I was helping, but in this moment my true motivation becomes clear; it wasn’t for her, but to damn us both to life for the life she had taken albeit well deserved many would agree. What he had done was only mildly criminal: the taunting, the quick out-thinking of others, nasty witticisms cutting us to the core, reserving nothing for the sake of tomorrow or proximity. His escalation led to the poisoning of the lawn, the dog, and then him shitting in the daisies as they slept until it ended the night she waited. Half his size with a lifetime of fury she could no longer contain, she had had enough and she would be venerated. With the last of his breath he gave her what no one had, not even me. There would be no more living out of anyone’s childhood. They had shared more in common than either could have imagined or believed. I hear her desperation now so I do my verbal juggling act. I took it and I’ll take care of it. I watch a disjointed hand hesitate then stretch out to transfer the sticky contents of my bag to a large mailer on the desk. I’ll see her again soon. I ring George to apologize. I have a favor to ask, after we play.