jacket over her skin-tight dress. From a pocket in the jacket, she took out black-rimmed glasses. With the glasses on and the make-up off, Strawberry looked older, but not by much.
“Why do you have a gun?”
“It’s a just-in-case.”
“Just in case what?”
Strawberry smiled. “Just-in-case-I-wanna-shoot-someone.”
Ashley pictured herself running from the cab of the truck and into the trees that lined the road, but she wouldn’t get far. A cop walked up to the truck, and she was trapped inside with a psychotic hooker.
Another time, she would’ve categorized her evening as an epic adventure of Frodo-like pr oportions, encountering odd and horrible things on her journey. The odd and horrible things were trees in her path, meant to slow her down, make her turn back. She would not slow down, and she would not turn back. There was no back. Ashley saw herself climbing over the fallen trees, scraping her hands and knees until she reached the end of her journey. Dad would want me to keep going, but how many more crazy things am I gonna have to go through?
“License and registration, please.”
The police officer was a woman. Ashley didn’t know why it made her feel better, but it did.
Strawberry seemed relaxed , too.
She handed over the necessary papers and ID. Ashley leaned over to read the name next to the picture: Grace something or other.
“Grace Holden.” The officer read aloud. “Well, Ms. Holden, you have a tail-light out.”
“Oh no.” Strawberry clucked her tongue. “I have a spare bulb-kit at home. I’ll change it as soon as I get there.”
The officer squinted at Strawberry. “And where exactly is home?”
She calmly recited an address. The cop read the ID, nodding along with the words. After, she grunted as if in approval.
“I’ll let you get home, then. Although, I am recording this stop as a formal warning. Fix that light, and get your daughter home.”
“Yes ma’am.” Strawberry nodded her head now.
“Have a good night, drive safe.”
“I will. You too, ma’am.”
She waited until the cop car drove away before starting the truck engine.
“Whew.” Strawberry let out a long breath. Then she laughed.
Ashley was relieved too, but she didn’t feel like laughing. She wanted to know what was so funny.
“She…” Strawberry was laughing and couldn’t speak. “She thought you were my daughter!”
Even in semi-normal clothes, she didn’t look old enough to be Ashley’s.
Ashley grinned. She wouldn’t allow herself to laugh. On the night she lost her family, laughing didn’t seem appropriate. She could admit Strawberry was right, as she had been various times.
It was a little bit funny.
****
August 11th
Well, shoot.
When you’re trapped in a basement with strangers, dirty laundry is bound to air itself.
For Michael and Louise, whole steaming heaps of their unmentionables have been flung around.
Ever since Louise’s Peter/Ryan mix-up, Michael’s been looking at his wife differently. There’s not a whole lot of love in his stares either.
T hey hide in the bathroom to try and make their blow-outs more private, but everyone can hear. I try not to listen, but with all the yelling and eff words, it’s hard not to. Ever the Nosey-Nancy, Erin perks up her ears anytime the couple takes their fights to the loo. Ha-ha, loo.
Anyway, this afternoon, Michael and Louise had a major loo-fight. Plenty of yelling going back and forth, so I’ll skip to the important parts. The sad parts, really.
I heard Louise say, “I’m sorry. Please, don’t.”
Michael: “God, I knew. I knew .”
Louise: “I was lonely. That’s no excuse, but you were alway s working so late.”
“Yeah, but Ryan? My best friend?”
Crying, and then, “I’m sorry. Please. After everything, don’t turn away from me. All we have is each other. Please.”
Michael scoffed. Or coughed. Not sure. “All you have is yourself.” He walked out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind
“Why do you have a gun?”
“It’s a just-in-case.”
“Just in case what?”
Strawberry smiled. “Just-in-case-I-wanna-shoot-someone.”
Ashley pictured herself running from the cab of the truck and into the trees that lined the road, but she wouldn’t get far. A cop walked up to the truck, and she was trapped inside with a psychotic hooker.
Another time, she would’ve categorized her evening as an epic adventure of Frodo-like pr oportions, encountering odd and horrible things on her journey. The odd and horrible things were trees in her path, meant to slow her down, make her turn back. She would not slow down, and she would not turn back. There was no back. Ashley saw herself climbing over the fallen trees, scraping her hands and knees until she reached the end of her journey. Dad would want me to keep going, but how many more crazy things am I gonna have to go through?
“License and registration, please.”
The police officer was a woman. Ashley didn’t know why it made her feel better, but it did.
Strawberry seemed relaxed , too.
She handed over the necessary papers and ID. Ashley leaned over to read the name next to the picture: Grace something or other.
“Grace Holden.” The officer read aloud. “Well, Ms. Holden, you have a tail-light out.”
“Oh no.” Strawberry clucked her tongue. “I have a spare bulb-kit at home. I’ll change it as soon as I get there.”
The officer squinted at Strawberry. “And where exactly is home?”
She calmly recited an address. The cop read the ID, nodding along with the words. After, she grunted as if in approval.
“I’ll let you get home, then. Although, I am recording this stop as a formal warning. Fix that light, and get your daughter home.”
“Yes ma’am.” Strawberry nodded her head now.
“Have a good night, drive safe.”
“I will. You too, ma’am.”
She waited until the cop car drove away before starting the truck engine.
“Whew.” Strawberry let out a long breath. Then she laughed.
Ashley was relieved too, but she didn’t feel like laughing. She wanted to know what was so funny.
“She…” Strawberry was laughing and couldn’t speak. “She thought you were my daughter!”
Even in semi-normal clothes, she didn’t look old enough to be Ashley’s.
Ashley grinned. She wouldn’t allow herself to laugh. On the night she lost her family, laughing didn’t seem appropriate. She could admit Strawberry was right, as she had been various times.
It was a little bit funny.
****
August 11th
Well, shoot.
When you’re trapped in a basement with strangers, dirty laundry is bound to air itself.
For Michael and Louise, whole steaming heaps of their unmentionables have been flung around.
Ever since Louise’s Peter/Ryan mix-up, Michael’s been looking at his wife differently. There’s not a whole lot of love in his stares either.
T hey hide in the bathroom to try and make their blow-outs more private, but everyone can hear. I try not to listen, but with all the yelling and eff words, it’s hard not to. Ever the Nosey-Nancy, Erin perks up her ears anytime the couple takes their fights to the loo. Ha-ha, loo.
Anyway, this afternoon, Michael and Louise had a major loo-fight. Plenty of yelling going back and forth, so I’ll skip to the important parts. The sad parts, really.
I heard Louise say, “I’m sorry. Please, don’t.”
Michael: “God, I knew. I knew .”
Louise: “I was lonely. That’s no excuse, but you were alway s working so late.”
“Yeah, but Ryan? My best friend?”
Crying, and then, “I’m sorry. Please. After everything, don’t turn away from me. All we have is each other. Please.”
Michael scoffed. Or coughed. Not sure. “All you have is yourself.” He walked out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind
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