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Authors: Billie Sue Mosiman
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DARK REALITY
by
Billie Sue Mosiman
Copyright Billie Sue Mosiman, 2012
All rights reserved.
THE FIRST TIME I noticed the world was changing was when I was talking to Vernon and turned around to pick up my beer from the table. We were standing in the Alibi Club at the line on the floor, throwing darts, and it was his turn.
The beer bottle wasn't there. I looked around for Millie, the waitress. I saw her at the bar, filling her round tray with drinks. "Hey, Mill, you pick up my beer?"
She hadn't. She came over after serving the other customers and said, haughty-like, "I did not touch your stupid damn beer."
"Just your mouth is going to cost you the tip, whether you took it or not."
She sniffed like a hound and turned away. Millie never did care for me, probably because she'd married my unemployed younger brother, Davey, and never could forgive me for not trying to warn her what a lowdown rat of a nothing he was. Which he wasn't. That's just what she thought of him. Well, he had died in Iraq anyway, and it seemed his death should have softened her up toward me, but I guess it hadn't.
I left her a fiver as a tip, crumpling it in a wad so she'd have to un-wad it to see I wasn't a complete cheap ass, and once Vernon had beat me in the dart game, I said, "I have to go, got work tomorrow." Tomorrow was Saturday, but some of us couldn't get by with a five-day paycheck and had to work Saturday overtime at Herb's Full Service Motor Repair just to have walking around money.
"One more game?"
"I already paid you thirty bucks in lost games, that's my limit, Vernon."
When he frowned his eyebrows came together over his eyes and made him look comical when he meant to look like a bad boy you don't refuse.
I waved good-bye and left, forgetting about the missing beer bottle.
When I got to the house--the house of my dead brother Davey--something else was strange enough to leave me sleepless.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. It always smelled stuffy and old in the house, probably because I'm not the best housekeeper and the last girlfriend I had was a slob, too, so it never got cleaned properly. Millie had sold the place to me because she said she didn't want the damn thing, it needed painting, it needed some plumbing repair, and the roof was so old and worn there were shingles completely missing to expose the plywood beneath.
I liked the house, though, it reminded me of my brother and remembering him gave me a warm glow. I had done some things to the house. I fixed the roof to stop all the leaks. I put a new coat of paint on the outside. And the plumbing wasn't that hard to cobble together so it worked. But now, walking in the door after midnight, there was something missing. The coat rack that had stood in the hallway where I hung my coats and hats wasn't there. It had been there as far back as when Davey was alive so I guess he hung his things on it too. But now it was gone.
I stood a minute in the dark before turning on the light, thinking. Wondering if I had had too many beers, even if it was a Friday night and I deserved it. Then I switched on the light so quick my hand was still trembling when I brought it back to my side to hang there like a shivering old man's hand, the fingers dancing. The hallway was flooded with pale yellow and I could see for sure the coat rack was gone.
My first thought was, why would anyone want that damn old scrawny wooden coat rack? My second thought was what made me move. I thought: A break-in. What else did they take? I stomped through the house with as much noise as I could make in case the burglar was still there. I went into the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. Nothing seemed out of place or missing. I didn't hear anyone making a break out the back door. They had to be gone. Why hadn't they taken the TV or the antique desk with the roll-top? I ran up the stairs and checked the two bedrooms and all the closets. Nothing wrong there either. Nothing missing that I could
by
Billie Sue Mosiman
Copyright Billie Sue Mosiman, 2012
All rights reserved.
THE FIRST TIME I noticed the world was changing was when I was talking to Vernon and turned around to pick up my beer from the table. We were standing in the Alibi Club at the line on the floor, throwing darts, and it was his turn.
The beer bottle wasn't there. I looked around for Millie, the waitress. I saw her at the bar, filling her round tray with drinks. "Hey, Mill, you pick up my beer?"
She hadn't. She came over after serving the other customers and said, haughty-like, "I did not touch your stupid damn beer."
"Just your mouth is going to cost you the tip, whether you took it or not."
She sniffed like a hound and turned away. Millie never did care for me, probably because she'd married my unemployed younger brother, Davey, and never could forgive me for not trying to warn her what a lowdown rat of a nothing he was. Which he wasn't. That's just what she thought of him. Well, he had died in Iraq anyway, and it seemed his death should have softened her up toward me, but I guess it hadn't.
I left her a fiver as a tip, crumpling it in a wad so she'd have to un-wad it to see I wasn't a complete cheap ass, and once Vernon had beat me in the dart game, I said, "I have to go, got work tomorrow." Tomorrow was Saturday, but some of us couldn't get by with a five-day paycheck and had to work Saturday overtime at Herb's Full Service Motor Repair just to have walking around money.
"One more game?"
"I already paid you thirty bucks in lost games, that's my limit, Vernon."
When he frowned his eyebrows came together over his eyes and made him look comical when he meant to look like a bad boy you don't refuse.
I waved good-bye and left, forgetting about the missing beer bottle.
When I got to the house--the house of my dead brother Davey--something else was strange enough to leave me sleepless.
I unlocked the door and stepped inside. It always smelled stuffy and old in the house, probably because I'm not the best housekeeper and the last girlfriend I had was a slob, too, so it never got cleaned properly. Millie had sold the place to me because she said she didn't want the damn thing, it needed painting, it needed some plumbing repair, and the roof was so old and worn there were shingles completely missing to expose the plywood beneath.
I liked the house, though, it reminded me of my brother and remembering him gave me a warm glow. I had done some things to the house. I fixed the roof to stop all the leaks. I put a new coat of paint on the outside. And the plumbing wasn't that hard to cobble together so it worked. But now, walking in the door after midnight, there was something missing. The coat rack that had stood in the hallway where I hung my coats and hats wasn't there. It had been there as far back as when Davey was alive so I guess he hung his things on it too. But now it was gone.
I stood a minute in the dark before turning on the light, thinking. Wondering if I had had too many beers, even if it was a Friday night and I deserved it. Then I switched on the light so quick my hand was still trembling when I brought it back to my side to hang there like a shivering old man's hand, the fingers dancing. The hallway was flooded with pale yellow and I could see for sure the coat rack was gone.
My first thought was, why would anyone want that damn old scrawny wooden coat rack? My second thought was what made me move. I thought: A break-in. What else did they take? I stomped through the house with as much noise as I could make in case the burglar was still there. I went into the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. Nothing seemed out of place or missing. I didn't hear anyone making a break out the back door. They had to be gone. Why hadn't they taken the TV or the antique desk with the roll-top? I ran up the stairs and checked the two bedrooms and all the closets. Nothing wrong there either. Nothing missing that I could
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