KATHLEEN (2013)
A short story excerpt from the 2013 published collection "The Most Important Thing Happening"
(Author’s Note: The entire collection "The Most Important Thing Happening” is subtitled “A Novel in Stories.” There are eleven stories in all and this one is the seventh. If there seem to be some moments that lack clarity, they make sense as you read the other ten stories.
Vanessa was pretty sure this was gonna be the day. Yup. Pretty sure. It’s been a long wait she thought. Gonna marry Bruce she thought. If the numbskull would hurry up and propose she thought. They had been growing distant lately, sure, but there was something in his voice on the phone. A tad of excitement that hadn’t been there since autumn. Not a tad—a smidge. And not excitement—urgency. Either way, wasn’t like Bruce to throw a picnic on a workday at lunch. Had to be what Bruce called “a special occasion”. Though Bruce has a different definition of a special occasion: certain televised playoffs and war reenactments and when that one band kept coming back into town. But she knew he bought a ring. Left the receipt in his pocket when he threw his jeans in the wash. She knew doing his laundry would come in handy. Bruce always left clues in the pockets. He’s thick that way she thought.
She drove into the empty parking lot, her low-air tire light blinking. When was he going to get around to fixing that. His car was there on the far end of the parking lot. He had left the tailgate open. Of course.
She glanced out into the landscaped field. There he was, somewhat of a feast laid out before him on the edge of a pond, seated cross-legged, unscrewing the wine and unwrapping the cheeseburgers. So thoughtful.
She called out in a sing-song that she thought would feel romantic.
—Hey hey!
—What’sa matter?
—Nothing. Why?
—You shouted at me.
—No, I was calling to you. Letting you know I’m here.
—Of course you’re here. I told you where we were gonna meet.
—Never mind.
She sat down before the spread he had worked so hard to prepare. Her butt crinkled.
—What am I sitting on?
—It’s the tarp that covers the pool.
—The apartment complex’s pool?
—I thought it would give us more room to spread out. Have you seen real picnic blankets? They’re the size of a nickel. You can’t eat anything on a nickel.
—This looks very special.
—I got your favorite. He was holding a bag of potato chips as if it were a handbag she was considering purchasing.
—How are those my favorite?
—You buy them all the time.
—For you. Because they’re your favorite.
—I thought we had that in common.
—I don’t eat chips.
—Sweet. More for me.
—Look what you did here.
—Yup. We have a bag of potato chips, wine, cheeseburgers, pudding packs, and a head of lettuce.
—You’re thoughtful, Vanessa said with a straight face.
—Well, Bruce obliged, it’s a special occasion and I wanted to surprise you.
—It was more of a surprise before you had me cook the cheeseburgers.
—I wanted you to have at least one thing homemade. Only the best for my Vanessa.
—So you’ve told me.
He bit into the cheeseburger, consuming over half the entrée in a single snarf.
—Well?
—Well, what?
Vanessa persisted, —Why are we here?
He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and stood, extending his hand.—Let’s take a walk around the pond.
Vanessa had never been to this particular park before. She didn’t prefer public property with bodies of water. It was beautiful to behold, but there was always a mild stench from the standing water that made her nostrils restless. Bruce, on the other hand, frequented this location. He loved it so much, he called it “our spot” in a romantic way. He had done the same thing with a song she had yet to hear. The least she could do she thought was to visit “our spot” at least once. Who knows. If he proposed to her here, she may just agree with him.
—Our spot is lovely.
—Oh, you like it too?
—It’s growing on me.
—Okay. Here. Bruce stopped at a very specific location and held Vanessa firmly by the shoulders. He stooped down to stare deeply into her eyes.—Vanessa. How long have we been dating?
—A very long time.
—Yes. That’s what I think. It’s been like five years.
—It’s been six years.
—Uh huh. Six. That’s like five. You don’t have to disagree with me about everything.
—I’m not disagreeing with you. I’m correcting you.
—I think we both understand that we’ve reached a place where it’s time to make an important decision.
—Oh, Bruce!
—So, you’re good then.
—Why wouldn’t I be?
—Well, I was kinda hesitant at the thought of it, but then she was like, it’s for the best.
—Wait, what?
—I’ve been thinking that our relationship has gotten a bit, you know, dry. What with my shirts not being ironed on Mondays like they used to be and me having to put the seat down and all those things that make you doubt a relationship.
—What are you talking about?
—I didn’t notice those things for a long time. I only noticed the good stuff aboutcha: your sour cream mashed potatoes and the fact that you smell like the candle store. It was like there was a cloud over my eyes, or more like a fog or maybe a fog over just one eye while the other eye had something in it and was watering fierce. But she really helped me see where we need to make some changes.
A mushroom cloud was billowing within Vanessa, threatening to reveal itself out her ears. Vanessa was glad she didn’t have the ability to shoot daggers from her eyes she thought lest Bruce already be shred to ribbons.
—She. She who?
—Oh. Kathleen.
Vanessa had never heard the name before. Well, of course she had heard the name, it was the third most popular in her book of names for girl babies, but it was going to get crossed off that list this afternoon for sure. She had never, however, heard Bruce speak of Kathleen and she was unaware of a Kathleen in her—or his—life.
—Kathleen? Kathleen who?!
—I met her here. Right here. And you’re gonna meet her in just a minute.
—What?!
—Now, don’t be that way. I was perfectly willing to meet Dorna.
—She’s my sister! This is your—your—what is she? What is she?!
—She’s my confidant.
—Confidant?!
—Well, that’s not quite right. She’s more like a guide or a coach. Or a sensei. She’s like an alarm clock for the love inside me.
—You—you love her?
—Oh no, not like I love you, Vanessa. You and me, we’re special. We’re like that pair of pants that you don’t throw away because they used to be comfortable even though you can’t snap the button anymore. Kathleen’s more like the person who buys me some new pants. Like a ninja.
—I—I don’t understand. How have I never met her?
—I only see her here.
—Here? At this park?
—Right here. Right dang here. On this very spot.
—You only see her on this very spot?
—It’s where she first came to me. I think she was attracted to the ring in my hand at the time. You ladies love your bling.
—The engagement ring?
—Dagnab it. Did Kathleen tell you?
—I don’t know Kathleen! You left the receipt in your jeans pocket. You know, your favorite jeans, the ones you safety-pin shut?
—Thank God. Tell me you saved the receipt. I can’t get a refund without it.
—REFUND?!
—That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Kathleen showed me the light and that’s why we’re not getting married.
There was a rumbling, a significant rumbling in the sunlit sky. Something distant and yet unsettling. It made both Vanessa and Bruce stop and gaze into the blue, but there were no clouds, save the stream of a jet plane that connected a straight line across the sky. Vanessa looked hard at Bruce and told him to explain exactly how they met. Exactly.
He had been in a Brucefunk. They were rare but not unusual, normally arriving at the end of winter. He would consider his last-minute career choice of the gutter-cleaning industry a failure. He would contemplate dying alone of old age in fifty-some-odd years. He would shuffle off and debate how earth had failed him and how all of his friends were happier in better jobs with ladies on their arms who don’t ask them to put their underwear in the basket. He thought maybe this spring would bring change. It was a yearly ritual that Vanessa abided, understanding that even shallow demons are real. Bruce had wallowed in his annual sadness a few more days than usual this time and one day, decided that if he wanted happiness, he would have to shove it in the pocket of his cheek like a gobstopper. So, he bought her the engagement ring. It cost a lot, but what’s one more credit card? He was on his way home with a gallon of Neapolitan to spring the question on her when he saw the park. He normally stopped to think by locking himself in gas station bathrooms, but there it was easier to get distracted playing online poker on his phone. He saw the pond, and he decided to rend himself of the last iota of sadness on its shore. He had almost finished off the chocolate third of the ice cream when she came to him.
Kathleen.
It was as if someone finally knew what was banging against the inside of his skull. She made him realize that life had indeed been unfair to him. All people had indeed been unfair. He had not chosen lamely in life but rather had lameness thrust upon him. He deserved more. And, the first of these changes would have to begin with the lady who was about to own this sparkly thing, this ring. Kathleen made it clear that Vanessa had not earned it. She had not earned Bruce’s love because she did many things wrong. She made moments difficult. It was she who was attempting to turn the ME of Bruce into an US. She must be reprimanded.
It had taken seven visits with Kathleen for Bruce to drum up the courage to bring Vanessa to her. But, he felt he owed it to Vanessa. He knew she loved him as much as he loved her and she deserved at least a fighting chance to change. She deserved an audience with Kathleen, the only way to gain her approval.
—Approval? Approval?!
—You’re not taking this well. It sounded a lot better when Kathleen was telling me how to say it.
—Bruce, sit.
—I won’t sit. I sat whenever my mother wanted to give me a foot massage and I sat when my girlfriends used to pull up a beanbag and I sit whenever you demand that I be still so you can give me a backrub. I’m tired of getting pushed around into chairs. I am taking control of my own life—my own situation.
—You are not. You’re just giving the control to a new woman.
—You obviously haven’t met Kathleen.
—No. No I haven’t. I haven’t met this woman who you believe knows you forward and backward, even though your entire relationship has existed in five square-feet of space by this here pond. I, who have nursed you through your surgery, loved you in ups, downs, and the times you so eloquently call ‘bloated,’ I have not met the woman who has been manipulating you to betray me.
A distant murmur. Almost that of a crowd, but not down the road or across town. The murmur sounded as if it were beyond the sky—filled with alarm and consternation. And, if Bruce and Vanessa’s ears weren’t tricking them, was preceded by the faint sound of something ripping.
—She said you would be clouded. She’s so funny with her big words. She also said you would be jealous of the truth.
—Oh, I cannot wait to meet this tramp.
—She is not homeless and you don’t even know her.
Vanessa took his head by the ears, palms squeezing him. She brought his eyes to hers. She steadied him, gazed in deep and long.—You’re not yourself. You don’t realize what you’re saying.
—Let me go! She’s almost here!
—You’re talking polluted! You’re a lot of things, Bruce, but none of them would say these words coming from your mouth. Remember when you wanted me to make you that coconut cake and it looked wonderful—it looked more perfect than wonderful—and something tasted off about it and it turned out the coconut manufacturing plant had accidentally filled half the box with laundry detergent and we had to get our stomachs pumped. That’s you—and I cannot help but think that Kathleen is where your detergent is coming from.
—You don’t know.
—I do know, Bruce. And I am the only one in the world who knows Bruce. Whether we were made for each other—designed for each other—or not, we belong to one another now, because we have committed. Remember that? Commitment? I get it. I get your nervousness. Your hesitation. I’m not perfect. I see every detail of you, Bruce, and you see every detail of me and that is a wondrous and explicit thing, but it also has a mother of a downside. Some days all I can see is the seat you left up or the tailgate you left open or how many weeks it’s been since we really talked. I see the distance and the awkward minutes and I only hear the many many things you don’t say. I can only expect the same from you. But, I am ready to rummage through every flake. I’m willing to separate the coconut into one pile and the detergent into another and learn to tell the difference. What I am not willing to do is resign myself to never having coconut cake again.
She broke through. She could see it in his eyes, the more personal she made her diatribe, the more she risked ridicule and having these words used against her, the more his eyes cleared. The more he saw her for who she had always been. When she finished, she released her hand. He pulled his head back, his eyes still transfixed. His head sweating, red imprints of her fingernails on his cheeks and ears. He had the look of an addict who had just been startled alive by a taser. The frown, the furrowed brow, it all lifted. His eyes became at peace. He looked into her face and said
—Vanessa.
She knew it had been necessary. She had not realized the depth, but amid loving him, she had built up an immunity to liking him. Her speech was revelatory even to herself. That chasm must be bridged if she were to deserve the ring that moments ago, she indignantly saw as her own.
—I love you, Bruce. And I want to be your wife.
—I don’t know what happened to me, Vanessa. It’s all true. All true. And I am madly, desperately in lurkvh—
His body jerked backwards spastically as if an invisible force sacked him. He flipped sideways high high in the air and came spiraling down like a yard dart on the opposite side of the pond.
Okay she thought.
She ran to him, yelling his name, at first assuming his body had an adverse reaction to his profession of affection. Until, of course, she saw the thing wrapped around his neck.
She hated snakes, but thought it would be rather prudish to proclaim a love-laced diatribe and then wuss out when it came time to rescue her man. She grabbed at the slithering thing as it attempted to wrap around his windpipe—but she could find no end to it. This was not a snake at all she thought. Not at all.
—No worries, Vanessa. He eked it out in a constricted whisper.—It’s just a hug, just a friendly embrace. Like a sister.
—What are you talking about?
—Kathleen.
Not a snake but a tentacle and Kathleen arose out of the pond’s darkness and scum. No, she was the pond’s darkness and scum. A half ton of her, slithering amphibious mass with tentacles and spikes and a fiery tongue, smelling like the paper factory when the wind shifts east. A head with a hundred eyes rising out of the murk and bleakness. She was not a she. She was a thing. A monstrosity that appeared rather unpleased with Vanessa, hurtling out of the water in her direction, waving Bruce above her like an ornament on a car antenna.
Vanessa instinctively ran like fire, bolting away, but Kathleen was a torment, fast and sleek. She shot the edge of one of her feelers downward toward Vanessa like a scorpion might sting and slashed the back of her left thigh. Vanessa writhed, diving into the recesses of the playground climbing structure where Kathleen’s beefy appendages began bashing away at the treated wood, unable to get through to her. Kathleen howled as the wood splintered and stuck like toothpicks into her calloused flesh. She shook Bruce violently in retribution, as a crocodile might an antelope.
—WHAT IS GOING ON, BRUCE?!
—I don’t think she thought your speech was very sincere.
—ARE YOU CRAZY NUTS?! She’s a MONSTER! She’s a DEMON!
—You’ve barely gotten to know her, Bruce said as Kathleen squeezed so hard she cracked one of his ribs—Ow. Insincerity kinda riles her up.
—I think anything that might take you away from her kinda riles her up!
—This is completely platonic.
—I DON’T think she’s looking for a DATE, Bruce. I think she’s looking for a MEAL.
—She’s not my type. But, that doesn’t mean she didn’t have some reasonable suggestions.
Kathleen changed tactics and began shooting spikes out of a hunch on her back. It made it difficult for her to aim, and the javelin-sized weapons shish-kabobed the rockety horses on the preschool lawn.
—She wants to kill me, Bruce!
—Well, what are you looking at me for?! You’re the one who ticked her off with your manipulation.
—Manipulation?! I was sincere!
—Sure you were. You’re always sincere when you can’t get me to do what you want, and I believe you because I know you love me. I do. And I believe that you think what you’re saying is a new beginning. I do. But, I also know it’s not gonna last. Because having me love you back is not always the thing you’re trying to get me to do. Soon enough, I’ll forget to say I love you the moment you need me to, or I’ll move in to kiss you when you’re not in the mood or I’ll forget to fix the one thing you deem most important while fixing three other things that don’t matter to you. And it will be all that you see. And this moment, this moment that changed us temporarily will be erased from our memory.
—I DON’T THINK THIS MOMENT WILL BE ERASED FROM MY MEMORY.
—You won’t be able to see how my love is growing. Every single dang day, I see more clearly who you are and I love it, but it also frustrates the fool out of me and just when I think I’ve got the words to say it, the distance grows.
—So, this is all me?! ALL ME?!
—Of course not! You’re not listening. It’s mostly—
But, Kathleen did not like this at all. She decided to utilize a new weapon to obtain her prey. She decided to use Bruce himself. Still grasping him like a sledgehammer, she thrust Bruce’s body down into the climbing structure, it finally splintering into a hundred pieces. Bruce landed in the grass like a wet rag doll, and Vanessa was exposed.
Vanessa ran to Bruce, who mumbled incoherently about excusing his emotional tirade today because he’s pretty sure his blood sugar is low.
Kathleen saw Vanessa touching Bruce’s chest, caring for him, and let out a hideous banshee shriek, shooting her tongue toward Vanessa like a flaming missile. Vanessa reacted fast, dodging only slightly but grabbing onto the tongue itself as it retracted.
Vanessa found herself hurtling through the air, the stench of Kathleen’s acrid breath increasing rapidly. As the mouth became a cave, Vanessa let go and landed rather harshly onto Kathleen. She hung from two of the spikes, one fist wrapped around each. She was just beneath Kathleen’s chin. Kathleen was bucking wildly, Vanessa’s feet knocking against her throat. This was causing Kathleen to retch and Vanessa was able to feel the tender spot in her trachea. She considered kicking harder, but Kathleen bucked one last time and flung Vanessa into the water playzone. A large slab of concrete, completely exposed.
It took Kathleen a moment to reorient herself. Vanessa stood absolutely still, considering a sprint to where Bruce’s unconscious body lay—but Kathleen was already on alert. She snorted and shook violently, scampering in a serpentine pattern looking for her lunch. Vanessa did not move.
In the brief respite, Vanessa noticed again the distant rumbles like thunder, the faint ripping sound, the ethereal voices speaking as if from the skies. But before she had a moment to consider these sounds, Kathleen saw her.
Another roar as she reared up on her hind and charged toward the water playzone. Vanessa was stunned. Her left leg was ablaze inside from the gash, Kathleen was between her and Bruce, and there was nothing—nothing to shield her from the oncoming wrath. This is it she thought and closed her eyes, clenching her fists, imagining all the ways she had feared her relationship with Bruce might end, and yet never quite anticipating this option.
Kathleen was within yards now. Vanessa could hear it, feel it as the ground vibrated and swelled around her—and then.
Phhhhhssssssst!
Kathleen screeched, stopping thunderously in her tracks.
Vanessa opened her eyes, soaked to the bone. The sprinklers had come on. The waterfalls and mists and attractions of the waterzone crafted rainbows out of the sunlit sky. Kathleen reared back, eyes the size of china dishes. She retreated a half-dozen feet and began pacing in wait.
It dawned on Vanessa that, pond creature though she was, Kathleen could not bear fresh water. She thrived on the scum and stagnation of water that never flows, never moves along the rushing streams, never purifies.
This is us she thought as Kathleen paced around the circumference of the waterzone, waiting out the timers on the attraction. Our love requires the painful rush of the water over the stones and twigs though we might resist it she thought. I saw my dissatisfaction as an indication that I was superior to Bruce, that he needed my affection in order to fix him. Bruce saw the pain as a reason to make it all end. We were both wrong. It takes all of it, all the hesitations, habits, irritations, failures—it takes seeing all of that, ramming into all of that full force, and then loving anyway. That is the thing. The thing she hates. Kathleen wants the stagnant, the gross, the relationship with scum and scabs where each retreats to their corner, never growing or changing—only resenting the pain. Bruce needs me, but more surprisingly, I need Bruce. To keep me raw and fresh and real. No. Not to keep me. To make me more. We rub off on one another to keep each other human. To know and be known. To discover a love deeper than the one in all the storybooks where the prince slays the dragon. That’s what Kathleen detests. And that’s why she’s about to tear us both limb from limb.
The sprinklers stopped. The timer ended. The mucous-laden razorous pit that Kathleen used as a mouth emoted a snide smile, and Vanessa knew it was over.
She just now figured out this relationship and the next time she and Bruce would be together, it would be as a jumble of bones in a lump of leviathan dung. Is that irony or is that apropos? Probably neither.
Oh well she thought. The picnic was a nice thought.
Kathleen arched her back and scrubbed the ground with her chin, snarling and preparing to pounce upon Vanessa.
Vanessa stood her ground, closed her eyes, clenched her fists and thought—just thought—for one more chance to make this right with Bruce, just one more chance, I’ll take anything, any option you’ve got, no qualifiers. I knew we were special once. Special. Just like anybody who chooses to love. In this absolute scenario where there is no reasonable way out, I’ll accept any old act of God.
And darkness began to fall.
A terror from the heavens.
It shushed like a fire mixed with a torrential rain, startling Vanessa out of her moment and causing both she and Kathleen to look upward into the afternoon sky.
RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!
The sky was torn open vertically from top to bottom, literally ripped like a sheet of paper. Vanessa grew wide-eyed and fell backward to the ground as Kathleen skittered, fearful, rushing to Bruce and hovering over him, her easiest kill. The sky ripped outward top-to-bottom like a V and then, in the crease of the destruction: a face. An angry, tightly wound face of a woman, seemingly at the end of herself, staring down with fervor, muttering something about “special” having consequences.
The world began folding in on them, the pond rising to their west side, the playground being crushed into heaps of scrap metal. Kathleen squealed and gripped Bruce in her jaw. Vanessa held on tightly to the sprinkler bar as the ground turned ninety degrees and became a wall of dirt from which she hung. And then, ridges and hillsides formed, up becoming down, the world crushing in on itself. This place—them—it was all being crumpled up like a discarded piece of paper.
As the pond water rained down upon them from above, covering them with slime and overgrowth, Kathleen lost her footing. She was slick, scum-laden, and unable to maneuver the crevices and land shifts. Vanessa realized she finally had the upper hand and leapt from apex to apex, crushed corner to crumpled mesh. She dove underneath as the jungle gym folded above her, mashed into a hundred separate things. A single metallic rod snapped off, sharp at both edges. Vanessa grabbed it and sprinted hell-bent toward Kathleen.
Out of her element, Kathleen scraped away from Vanessa, gripping at whatever could give her balance, her tail squeezed between folds, tugging to free herself. She hissed and seethed, Bruce hanging unconscious from her drooling maw.
Vanessa caught up and leapt atop her tail, scaling her to the neck and attempting to beat her over the head with the metal pole, but it was like trying to break open a stone piñata with a drinking straw. Kathleen wriggled her head, flailing her tail, attempting to swat Vanessa off of her. Vanessa turned the metal rod on its end and attempted to stab the monster in the head, but Kathleen’s tail caught her, throwing her off-balance, and the sharp edge instead sunk deeply into Kathleen’s shoulder.
Kathleen yelped angrily and hurled Bruce from her mouth, his body catching onto a folded precipice. Vanessa’s body, too, was thrown and Kathleen whirled around, fumes snorting out her nostrils. Kathleen’s eyes were death notices, her legs ready to pounce. Vanessa stood her ground and met the creature’s gaze.
—I’m not afraid of you—because I know now where you come from.
Kathleen hissed from deep in her throat. She paced an arc around Vanessa, searching for sure-footing from which to pounce.
—I thought you were a demon, but now I get it. You’re not from hell. You’re just from us. Bruce and I did this. Our relationship built you. I’m not afraid of you, Kathleen, because you are mine.
Raging, Kathleen closed her eyes in concentration and grunted hard. There was a creak and then a pop as what appeared to be decrepit and disintegrating wings separated themselves from her back, unfurling as scales and scabs fell to the ground. She howled in fury. These wings hadn’t been used in a while. She must want to get to Vanessa pretty dang badly Vanessa thought.
Vanessa stood solid, no weapon in her hand, and awaited the inevitable. Kathleen sprung in flight, and was mid-air between her launching point and Vanessa when suddenly—suddenly—gravity ceased to work. The two of them hung mid-air for a fleeting moment. Then, reality reversed and Kathleen began flitting and falling the other way, the way from which she had leapt. Vanessa, too, lost her footing and was falling forward atop Kathleen. Their world had been lifted, weightless, hurtling toward something. All began to grow stifling hot as the sky above them shifted from blue to black and the heavens alit with fire.
Actual fire. The sky was becoming a black mesh, the sort of texture you would find in, say, an office trash can, and all around them was ablaze. They stopped moving with a jarring thud. The sky became the ground beneath them as Vanessa hung from the crumpled heap she had just been standing upon. Her world was upside-down and she was about to be sucked into the blaze.
Vanessa glanced about in a panic. Where was Bruce?! He must have fallen—but no, he couldn’t…she refused to acknowledge the awful truth, knowing full well that everything between her and the horizon had fallen into the blaze.
Everything except for Kathleen.
The creature moved sleekly along the ceiling ground, talons, spikes, and claws holding her aloft. She moved slowly and steadily toward Vanessa, her eyes daunting but without motion. Her prey was finished, no options remaining.
Vanessa met her stare, considering all the tiny changes she could have made in their six-year journey, all the choices that could have averted this disaster.
Of course, the sky ripping open, the crumpling, the fire—those were probably unavoidable either way.
Kathleen reached her face-to-face, the aroma unbearable. She did not attack immediately, but rather met Vanessa’s gaze as if to say look who gets the man this time. And Vanessa was satisfied. She would meet her end, yes, but she would meet it along with Bruce. She would meet it with clarity, the first time she had that in almost a decade. Let Kathleen have her day. Vanessa would still be with Bruce in the end, charred reunion though it might be.
Kathleen reared every weapon on her natural armor: the talons, the tongue, the spikes, the tail—all ready to strike, her eyes locked on Vanessa’s face.
Vanessa closed her eyes softly.
Shink.
A gargled wail broke the silence as if all the universe’s ghosts from dead relationships past emoted a yowl all at once. Vanessa opened her eyes just in time to see Kathleen roll back upon herself, blood spouting from her throat, a gaping hole in the soft spot.
She released her talons and tumbled headlong, grasping for the pain on her neck, swatting at it like a mosquito. She folded upon herself frontward and backward, headfirst into the inferno, bursting into a blaze that reeked of sewage and then, in a spectacular expulsion of carnage, separated into a dozen pieces, finally devolving into ash.
Kathleen was gone.
Vanessa turned to her vanquisher. It was Bruce, hanging by one arm, a long bloody red spear in the other.
—Where did you come from?
—I climbed the wall of the can. At least it felt like a can. That’s where I got this thing. It’s really heavy.
—I don’t think we’ll need it any more.
Bruce dropped the weapon, an enormous red ink pen, back into the blaze from which he had pulled it.
And just as neither Bruce nor Vanessa could hold on for one moment more, their world righted itself, pulled up, out, and away from the fire. The sky turned blue again, the ground stable and smoothed as if by an unseen hand. They were back where they started, only without the cheeseburgers.
—I’m so sorry, Vanessa.
—No, Bruce. I’m sorry.
—No, Vanessa. I’m—
Vanessa stopped him there.—Maybe we should just back up and start again. Differently.
He looked at her with love. There wasn’t really room to begin again. The park still stood, but the pond and playground were gone. It was all raw and barren. Not because of a clean slate, but because of all they had just been through.
—I’m Bruce.
—I’m Vanessa.
Though crumpled and singed at the edges, they stood upon a blank page.
Next: Read "THE VERY LAST SANDWICH IN THE ENTIRE WORLD" Short Story #8 from Mark Steele’s Novel in Stories “The Most Important Thing Happening” (2013)
©2013 Mark Steele / Published & Permissions by David C. Cook Publishing - “The Most Important Thing Happening: A Novel In Stories” is available HERE in paperback.