What Mac Left Behind

I always thought it would be Gracie who’d rescue me from my childhood nemesis—not a monster under my bed, but one beside it, in it. I was wrong.

            Big Mac passed while we were on vacation. We’d left for Myrtle Beach at six in the morning on a Saturday. Mac departed this world not twenty four hours later. Gracie had no way of contacting us so Mac was eulogized and buried without us, without me.

            When I found out, I sobbed myself to hiccups knowing I hadn’t said goodbye to him, hadn’t asked him to swing me around one more time, had never worked up the nerve to tell him . . . Not to mention Gracie’d lost the love of her life. I gnawed my nails down to the quick knowing my best friend in the whole world had lost her husband of sixty one years and I hadn’t been there for her.

            On Monday Gracie was marvelously collected when she described his death.

            “He never woke up,” she said. “Had his hands folded over his chest as if he knew.”

            She dabbed under my nose with a lavender handkerchief. “Now, Pet, don’t grieve so. He had a wonderful life and where he is now, it’s even better. Plus we’ll see him—”

            She stopped herself but I knew the word she’d nipped off: soon. My heart stuttered as the thought of being alone in the world settled on and around me. Gracie smoothed the front of her dark dress. That’s when I noticed the pile of spent hankies on the end table and realized despite her brave demeanor, she was not without her own sorrow.

            “He left you something,” she said. When she held out her hand, I noticed it was trembling. “Come.”

            Gracie led me upstairs and down the hall to the other side of the house. When she opened the last door on the left, Big Mac’s Old Spice aroma embraced me. I took in the room—dark woods, white chenille bedspread, Mac’s pocket knife, wallet, and mustard-colored change pouch on the dresser.

            The closet door was cracked. Inside hung the navy blue suit Mac wore to church every Sunday. I turned with my face bunched up.

            “What’d you bury him in?”

            “His other suit. The black one he wore when we got married.”

            That fact tore fresh tears from me. Gracie pressed her handkerchief into my hand before she entered Mac’s closet. She stood on tiptoe to reach the top shelf. When she faced me again, she held a wooden box. I stiffened. I knew that box. I'd helped Mac build it. For his gun.

~~~

It wasn’t a big gun, just a .22. Mac had showed me how to use it in March when he took me to Gideon Woods to shoot pop cans off fence posts. The box was tied with a bow like a present, with the same strips of cloth Mac and I used to stake up tomato plants each summer.

            Gracie pressed the case toward me. “He wanted you to have it.”

            My eyes bugged. I pushed against it. “No way! Shouldn’t you keep it? Since you’re all alone now?”

            Gracie set the gun on Mac’s dresser. “Don’t worry about me, Pet. I have a little something of my own.”

            We stood there for a little while, quiet, both of us sniffling off and on. I tried to manage a complete breath but it seemed impossible. I missed Mac so. Hated the knowledge that I’d never see him again.  

            After a few minutes Gracie encased my hands in hers, peered deep into my eyes with her cornflower blue ones.

            “Mac knew, Pet,” she whispered. “We both did.”

            Immediately I felt the blood in my face drain away. Even so, I wanted to grin. They knew? Really? Then I scowled. If they knew, why didn’t— I made my eyes small to focus like microscopes so I could see inside her, to make sure we shared the same thought.

            “That’s why he wanted you to have this,” Gracie said. “Keep it under your bed, or in it. Use it when the time is right.”

            I slumped. They did know. I glanced over at the dresser. Imagined the gun in my hand. Pictured pointing it at a human being, someone I knew, and squeezing—

            My eyes fluttered open. “But what if—”

            She circled my waist with her arms, joined her fingers together over my hip to form a solid fence around me.

            “Shhh. You’ll know what to do,” she said. “What did Mac tell you when he taught you to shoot this spring?”

            “He said the gun is my friend, my equalizer. What’d he mean by that, Gracie?” I pressed on. “And he said make sure I understand the repercussions of using it or not using it. When I’m in danger." 

            Gracie tilted her head. “He said all that?”

            I nodded. Gracie let go of me and stepped away. “Well, then. I reckon you’re ready. Do what you have to do, Pet. I’ll be praying for you.”

            She was headed out of the room when I asked the question I’d wanted to ask for ages.

            “Gracie? Can’t you just talk to my—”

            Gracie sagged in the doorway before she turned.

            “Oh, sweet girl, I tried. I did. Your mom . . .” The corner of Gracie’s left eye crinkled. “Is she all right? Is she on some kind of medication?”

            I squeezed my eyes shut. Pictured the kitchen counter with its array of orangey-gold bottles beside the sink.

            I nodded. “Lots.”  I smashed my nose with my palm to stop its burning.

            “And your daddy’s not home much, is he?”

            I finally lifted the gun case. Crushed it against my chest until the corner made me wince.

            “Even when he is, he isn’t.”

            Gracie wrung her hands. “I’m so sorry, Pet,” she said. “Tonight though, things’re gonna change. Right?”

Wonder Woman Was My Best Friend

So there we were. Me and my best friend, Katie Lynn. Waiting in line to get into Spanky’s, the fancy new dance bar on Fourth Avenue. Per usual, we were decked out. In  mini skirts and high heels. Kent had done our hair that day. Mine was so short it looked like a baby bird’s. Katie Lynn’s hair resembled Billy Idol’s in the front, except it was almost black, not white. But in the back it hung in waves almost to her bra strap. Guess that means she had a mullet, but back then it was cool.

            I wiggled out of my shoes. “These heels have to go,” I said. “Least ‘til we get to the front of the line.” I sighed. “Looks like it’s gonna be awhile.”

            All of a sudden, Katie Lynn whipped around to face the building. She grabbed my arm, taking me with her.

            “Don’t look now, but your brother, Judas, and his pothead pals are headed this way.”

            I cringed. “Aw, man!  Maybe they won’t see us.”

            Unfortunately, Katie Lynn is pretty hard to miss since she’s six foot one in heels and kind of looks like Wonder Woman. Judas paused next to us on the sidewalk. Slid between us and the wall. We brushed our fronts off. In case some of him got on us.

            “Evening, lady,” he said to Katie Lynn. He sneered at me. “And girl.”

            I glared. He curled his lip. I stuck my tongue out. He wobbled. His eyelids were flying at half mast. I knew what that meant. He fished a roll of Certs out of the front pocket of his Levi’s and unpeeled the wrapper. Bit off the top mint and held the rest out to Katie Lynn. She shook her head and opened her mouth to display her Bubble Yum.

            He raised his eyebrows a couple times. “Lucky gum.”

            I snorted and crossed my arms. “Ga-ross!” 

            Judas put one hand on the wall and leaned. A moment later he dropped his arm and straightened, probably because he figured out leaning made him a whole lot shorter than Katie Lynn.

            “So, Katie,” he said. “I see you’re wearing your Western bra.”

            Katie Lynn squinted. “My what?”

            “Your girls,” he said, pointing at her chest. “The bra’s hitchin’ ‘em up and movin’ ‘em out.”

            I smacked him with one of my pumps. “You stink, Judas,” I said. “You’ve got so much beer on you, I can’t even smell your Old Spice.”

            Judas rubbed his arm and scowled.

            I flicked his chin. “Haven’t you figured out yet that when you get high, you develop a mysterious hole in your lip?”

            Judas burped and blew in my face. Dangled his pointer finger an inch from my nose. His eyes began to cross as he tried to focus on me and his finger.

            “I’ll get you for this tomorrow, you know.”

            “Hey, Jude,” Katie Lynn said. “Why don’t you do us a favor and get lost. And while you’re at it, take your Muppet Pals with you.” She flipped her long dark hair in the direction of his friends. “Go find some girls who actually want your company.”

            I huffed. “Yeah, if there are any!”

            In a second, something changed in Judas’s eyes. The ornery glint got mean. I heard his molars clack together. He took a step toward Katie. And another. I watched her lashes hit her brows.

            “You know what I want, Katie Lynn?” he said. “I’ll tell you what I want.”

            And he did. I thought I would die. Right there, in front of all those people waiting to get in Spanky’s. He said stuff so nasty my ears curled in on themselves.

            Katie Lynn didn’t speak. Didn’t even twitch. I gulped. Nibbled a fingernail.  After a minute of silence, Judas started jacking his jaws again.

            “And if you were real nice,” he said as his eyes narrowed to slits, “You’d let my buddies watch.”              

            My mouth fell open and it was like I blinked in slow motion, because when I opened my eyes, Katie Lynn had Judas pinned to the brick wall. His arm was twisted behind him, and she was forcing his fist toward his copper curls. Judas screamed like a ninny and cussed a blue streak, all at the same time.

            Everyone around me started clapping. “Woo hoo!” they yelled. “Get him, girl! Kick his butt!”

            I couldn't make out what Judas was saying because his mouth was crammed into the bricks. I leaned closer but was careful to stay out of punching range.

            “Uncle!  Uncle!” he mumbled. He tried to turn his head but Katie increased the pressure on his arm. A whimpery grunt escaped him. “Guys!  Help me out here!”

            I searched the area. Spied his buddies across the street. They huddled together and kept their eyes on Katie Lynn, ready to bolt if she decided to turn her superpowers on them. Finally, she let go of Judas’s arm. Gave him a shove. He flung his hands out to keep from busting his knees, but his right arm didn’t seem to work quite right and he hit hard. From the ground he threw Katie Lynn one more super dirty look before he scrambled across the street.

            I put my fists on my hips and squinted  at the pack as they made their way down the sidewalk.

            “Run, ‘fraidy cats, run!”

            I stepped back in line and adjusted my skirt. High fived the girls who gathered around, giggling and congratulating. 

            “Those goobers remind me of sand crabs at Myrtle Beach,” I said. “They come out at night, but when you shine a light on ‘em, they skitter back in their holes.”         

            Katie Lynn pointed down the block. My gaze followed her finger. One of the flannel-shirted guys had fallen off the curb into the street. Judas and the others gathered him up. I took a dozen steps toward them. Cupped my hands around my mouth.

            “Losers!”  

            Judas flipped me off without turning around. I smirked and headed back to Katie Lynn. There she was. In conversation with a tall, good looking guy in a dress shirt with a skinny purple tie. I smooshed my lips together to redistribute my gloss and held out my hand.

            “Well, hello," I said. "I’m Dana, and you are?”

            He took one of my hands and one of Katie's. “I'm Jonathan,” he told us. “I’m the manager here. I want to personally thank you ladies for dealing with the riffraff. May I escort you inside? Get you a cocktail?”

            I bumped Katie Lynn with my hip and let my shoes drop. Stepped back into them and ran my fingers through my hair to re-spike it.

            “Why yes, Jonathan. That would be lovely.”