Posted in Essay

Waiting for the Vaccine

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Calypso music permeates the theatre and glides through the night air landing at the feet of our beach chairs. Laughter springs from my friends’ lips while they sit sipping wine as we chatter about our days; both present and past. Dishes clink and clatter together in the kitchen of our favorite restaurant as we sit enjoying our meal while we cover our day, what we did—where we went. Our daughters’  chatter—light,  lively banter back and forth as we say good-bye for the day, then hug them, instantly taking in the scent of their hair, the largesse of their embraces.

I line up these thoughts like cut scenes from a movie. To disengage from the incessant loop, I move on, but only to a different loop. Scenes of a brighter tomorrow run through my mind’s projector. For almost a year, my husband and I have waited, so this cut is worn, the film delicate, but still viewable.

My husband and I are currently, and very impatiently, waiting for the vaccine. We are in our state’s Group 1B—Tier 2. Our group’s inoculations were to begin this week, but due to lack of supplies, we have been told to wait. Patiently wait.  As we wait, we watch the number of vaccinated increase. With unrelenting sadness, we also watch the daily deaths climb. It’s as if we’re reaching the climactic moment in a film, musical score ratcheting up our emotions, action in high gear, characters pressed into emotional cyclones. But this isn’t a movie, it’s real life playing out in real time changing lives forever and lending more definition to catastrophe than anything our modern world has ever faced.

So, this is what we do. I write queries and begin new tales, reread my Covid short stories, all ten of them. Edit some—laugh out loud at others. My husband calls his daughters, living vicariously through them occasionally, giving them advice on everything from creative budgeting to how to cook a pot roast.

I realize that each day we get closer. And as we wait, each day is growing longer, both figuratively and in reality. Spring will be here soon.

Our friends will sit with us and we will laugh again. We will hug our daughters. The cut scenes will need editing using additions of fragmented new scenes. Our action will resume, our stories will survive. We will all rush back to our lives, fragmented but together, envisioning embraces that right now we can only anticipate with great hope.

Posted in Covid Stories, Short Stories

A Curb-Side Story (Covid Story #4)

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Lily leaned on the counter while she waited for an order, rubbing one foot with the other, then trading off. Dressed in the required black slacks topped with a black polo, the ‘Pièce de Résistance’ logo and her name Lily stitched across the left pocket, her demeanor resembled that of a slouching, sleek cat. Her black and white face mask completed her ensemble.

“Your guy’s outside,” her friend and coworker Becca remarked.

“He’s not my guy,” Lily retorted as she stood straighter, using her pen to scratch the scalp of her short cropped hair.

“Uh, yeah, he is,” Becca cocked her head, aiming her hidden gum smacking mouth at Lily. Lily knew there was a sideways grin hiding behind Becca’s face mask.

Lily shrugged. “Just because he comes around a lot means nothing, except that he likes the food.”

“He comes here every other day. AND, he asks for Lily.” Becca spoke her name with the same deference afforded when eating a mouth full of soggy French fries.

The restaurant’s ordering app came alive as it rang a notification.

“It’s your guy! Jonathan Evans. Oh, and take a look-see. He’s asking for Lily.” Becca raised one eyebrow as she stared at Lily.

In less than an hour Lily grabbed Jonathan’s order and ran outside.

“Here ya go.” She handed the order to him through the car window. Although he wore a navy colored face mask, his bright blue eyes gave away his smile underneath the mask.

“Thank you, Lily.” Jonathan took the bag and placed it on the passenger seat. “Are you having a decent day?”

“It’s going pretty well so far. How about you?”

“Not too bad.” Jonathan toyed with the sack, folding and unfolding the top.

“Do you live around here?” he asked.

A few cars pulled in behind Jonathan’s car.

“Uh, yes. A few miles away,” Lily said as she planted one foot on the other, making no attempt to leave.

‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. It’s just that I only recently moved here and don’t know many people.”

“No, that’s okay. I enjoy chatting with you, anyway.”

“I’m glad. It’s just that I’ve been here a few times, and I didn’t want to come across as a perv or something. I would like to explain—”

Becca came out the back door, holding four to-go bags in her clasped together arms. “Lily, I’m getting bombed. Can you take the order out to the blue Chevy?”

The rest of the day went like that, busy. To which Lily was glad. Before she knew it, the crew had worked an hour overtime. It was almost midnight when she got home, took a shower, and went to bed.

The next day Becca found her the minute she walked into the restaurant.

As she tied her black apron on Becca apologized for interrupting her parking lot date with Jonathan.

“It’s all right, Becca. I needed to help.”

“Yeah, but I hate getting in the way of a budding romance.’ Becca tilted her head.

“It’s not a budding romance and who says budding romance anymore anyway.” Lily countered.

“Okay, hot romcom, then?”

As Lily started to say something in her defense, her phone vibrated.

“Sorry, I have to look,” she said.

“Hey, kid, don’t worry about it.” Becca said with a half-shrug.

Minutes later, Lily came back from the call, swiping away the wetness in her eyes.

“I have to go. It was the hospital. My aunt just died.”

The heavy hospital doors were even harder to push than usual as Lily entered the building. She had been in this place one other time, the day her aunt was admitted. Because of her aunt’s condition upon arrival, Lily, as the only living relative, arranged her admittance. But, because of current hospital regulations, she wasn’t allowed to visit and her aunt’s stay had stretched into over a month. 

Although Lily needed the work, she couldn’t go back to her job for fourteen days after her aunt’s admittance to the hospital. Eventually, her boss allowed her to go back when it was evident that she was ‘un-communicable’- as the new employee handbook read. As a good employee, he needed her and she was glad to be back at work again. Besides the money, it gave her something to focus on.

In less than an hour, Lily struggled with the heavy doors again as she left. In her hand, a bag with her aunt’s personal belongings that came with her to the hospital.  As she drove back to her apartment, her stomach lurched and her head started pounding. Relieved as she turned into her complex, she longed for her couch and her old crocheted blanket.

About an hour later, as she lay under her blanket on the couch, hair washed and stomach relieved of its misery, she opened a box. In it were photographs of her parents, a withered dollar bill, and a children’s book.

At the age of five, Lily’s parents died in a car accident. On their way home from a night out, a distracted driver, reaching for a hamburger in a fast food sack, swung into the other lane, just for a second, and hit her parents’ car head on.

At the time, Lily was at home with the babysitter. Her aunt arrived and only as her aunt could, she told her what had happened and that Lily was going to come live with her.

Now, as she half lay–half sat on the couch, Lily kept looking through the contents of the box. She held the dollar bill for a moment, remembering how carefully her dad had placed it in her hand right before he and her mom left for their dinner date that night.

“Here ya go, Sassafrass.” Her dad smiled, calling her by his nickname for her. “It’s Mom’s turn to be my date tonight. Tomorrow is our date day. We’ll get ice cream. Then, we’ll go to the dollar store, like we always do. You pick out your treasure and I’ll pick out mine.” Her dad then showed her his dollar as he stuffed it in his shirt pocket.

“Casey, I really need you tonight.” Lily next lifted the children’s book out of the box. The hardbound cover displayed an illustration of a small brown-haired boy. In jeans and a bright yellow t-shirt, he stood with his arms crossed, his head held high.

Lying there, Lily remembered her aunt giving her the book during those first days after her parents’ death.  

As she sat beside Lily on her bed in her new bedroom, her aunt had told her, “Here, Lily. You’re always talking about Casey. I don’t know who Casey is, but I came across this book at the bookstore during my lunch one day and knew I had to get it for you.”

From that day on, when Lily couldn’t fall asleep, her aunt read her the book.

Her earliest memories always  included Casey. As an only child, she had very few playmates. Casey became her constant companion. He would tell her that he would always be there for her. She could tell him everything and he would understand.

Lily’s aunt would explain Casey’s existence by saying he must have been Lily’s imaginary friend. That imaginary friends are very real. They help with growing and coping, all that stuff that needs sorted out. ‘Why,’ she said. ‘It’s quite all right to have an imaginary friend.’ Then her aunt confessed that she had one growing up and she was very glad that she did.

As Lily grew older, she started making friends and slowly came out of the grief of losing her parents. She left Casey behind. Only once in a while, when her best friend Edith moved, or later, when her first boyfriend broke up with her, she recalled Casey and knew that he would always be there for her, if only as a sweet memory and a heartfelt connection to her girlhood. She would remember and somehow, that comforted her.

Lily gently put the book back in the box, closed her eyes, and finally allowed herself to drift off to a not-sound sleep.

Several days later Lily was back to work. Everyone was very nice, but that just made it all the more awkward.

Everyone but Becca. Becca had visited her after her aunt died, knocking on her door and holding a bottle of wine. They had sat on the roof terrace of Lily’s apartment, six feet apart, drinking the wine and not saying much of anything. Just what Lily needed at the time.

Apparently, Lily’s ‘guy’ had been by for his usual takeout order, Becca told her. She said that he was disappointed when Becca brought his order out and asked after Lily.

A few days after Lily started back to work, the usual order came in: Jonathan Edwards—-Braised Short Ribs/Mashed Potatoes/Grilled Vegetables/Roll with butter—Request server – Lily

Lily’s stomach tightened as she read the order. Becca made an off-hand joke as Lily grabbed a takeout order under the hot lamp and smiled at her as she backed out the exit door with the order.

A half hour later, Lily grabbed Jonathan’s order and headed to his car.

“You’re back!” Jonathan took off his sunglasses as he spoke through his mask.

“Yep! I am back,” Lily handed his order through his window as she shrugged. She wasn’t sure he could see her smile behind the mask but hoped her enthusiasm was apparent.

“I want to explain something to you,” Jonathan said.

Oh, boy, here goes, Lily thought. He’s going to reveal that he is weird after all by rambling some demented crazy talk. Or, he’ll tell me he’s moving on, relocating, and can’t order from here anymore. I hope I’m wrong, but be prepared for anything.

“When I was small, about four years old, we lived here according to my parents.” Jonathan began looking down, toying with his sunglasses, his voice low. “We had to move for my dad’s job right before I turned five years old.”

He looked up and continued, “As an army brat, we moved a lot. My mom loved flower gardens and always had one in each of the yards we had. For some reason, I always wanted her to put lilies in her flower beds.”

“Years later, Dad left active duty, retired. They moved back to this town because they loved it here. Right now, I’m living in a townhouse not too far from them, working from home. I’m an attorney, but for now, working remotely isn’t a problem. I visit my parents often, outside of course, allowable distance apart and all that. I get their groceries for them, putting them on their doorstep. Generally, I’m here for them for the time being.”

Lily smiled, not knowing where this was going. All the same, she still felt a tug at her heart as she listened to his story.

Jonathan sighed, then continued, “Anyway, as we sat outside one day, I said something about Mom’s garden and pointedly about the lilies, laughing about how weird it was that I liked them so much.”

“At that point my mom said, “Don’t you know? It’s not that you like lilies. It’s because you had a childhood friend named Lily. You used to adore her. You two were inseparable and you were heartbroken when we had to move. You would say to me, ‘I told her I would always be there for her.’ But you were very young, and in time forgot about your friendship, all that is, except for the name.”

His story puzzled Lily. She didn’t recall a childhood friend named Jonathan. She became disappointed and sad, thinking he had the wrong person. “Jonathan, I’m sorry, but I didn’t have a childhood friend named Jonathan.”

Jonathan peered out the car window at her. Lily could see herself reflected in his eyes as she stood on the other side of the window.

Jonathan explained, “Lily, when I became an attorney, my mom told me I should go by my first name, Jonathan. It sounded more professional. My full name is Jonathan Casey Edwards.  I’m Casey. And I’ll always be here for you.”

Posted in Covid Stories, Short Stories

Shudder House (Covid Story #2)

 

Shudder House

Audrey Harrison stood at the large picture window. Coffee mug in hand, she focused on the small brick path meandering from the parking lot and stopping right beyond her apartment. Window open, the fresh morning sun escaped in to the bright, cheery room. Only a screen came between her and the fresh air.

“Your visitors come today, don’t they?” Janet asked as she walked in with a tray holding Audrey’s breakfast. “And by the way, may I say that you look smashingly gorgeous!”

“Oh, I know. I do!” Audrey laughed as she tugged at the bottom hem of her graphic tee. The words ‘I’m Unflappable’ spelled out across the front of the shirt in large block lettering spoke volumes about the wearer’s personality.

“I love your skinny jeans, too!” Janet remarked as she sat the tray on the small table in front of Audrey’s wing chair.

“You’re just full of it today.” Audrey grinned. “At eighty-five years old I can spot a load of baloney when I hear it.”

As she sat down she glanced at the photo sitting next to the breakfast tray.  “How is Mavis doing?”

Mavis lived across the hall from Audrey. A few weeks earlier Mavis was admitted into a ‘dedicated unit’ in another area of the complex. Over the last few months dedicated unit had become a popular term bounced around the care center.

Janet glanced down at her blouse as she brushed away an imaginary spot. “She’s… doing okay.” Janet looked up, smiling. “I brought that jam you like. You probably should get busy eating. Your son and granddaughter will be here soon, ya know.”

After Janet left, Audrey munched on her toast spread with strawberry jam as she looked out her window. Her clear blue eyes rested momentarily on the large brick edifice emblazoned with gold letters announcing “Shady Oak Senior Living.” Shady Oak’s vast complex included other apartment buildings identical to Audrey’s; maintenance provided housing, skilled nursing facilities, and a recreational center.  ‘All the comforts of home, without the obligations’ the glossy Shady Oak brochure touted to its prospective residents.

Audrey’s eyes rested on the row of maintenance provided homes located across the street. As part of the complex, these homes were available to those fifty-five and older. She focused on one house in particular; the house directly across from her apartment.  

Audrey often peered over at the house across the street accented with bright orange shutters. Despite having been recently sold, she hardly witnessed any outside movement. She realized that was the norm now. Hardly anyone ventured out, not even to the mailbox. But that house carried a different vibe for Audrey, whose imagination was the brunt of jokes in her senior community and with her small family. Audrey referred to the house as ‘the shudder house.” She also had a sharp sense of humor.

Audrey got up from her chair and once again walked over to the window. At any moment now her visitors would walk up the sidewalk; Dean, her son, laughing as he carried his lawn chair, Charlotte, her granddaughter beside him. Charlotte was tall and reed thin, like her mother, with the distinct difference being her copper-red hair, inherited from her father. Every Sunday—weather permitting—her son and granddaughter made their way to Audrey’s window. They would tell tales, laugh, and enjoy the sun together.

While she waited, her eyes caught sudden movement. Across the street, a figure dressed in black was striding through the lawn of the shudder house making their way to the back. Audrey strained into the screen as she focused her eyes on the house.

“Mom!” a burly, man with a copper-red beard approached carrying a red fabric folded chair under his arm. Charlotte walked beside him with a deliberate stride, her long hair tied into a pony tail. As she came up to the window she exclaimed, “Grams! How are you?”  

Audrey stretched out her arms from the other side of the screen. Charlotte folded out her own blue fabric “Southwest State” embellished chair and plopped into it, then grinned at her grandmother.

Audrey couldn’t help but appreciate Charlotte’s bright mood. Only a few months ago, her granddaughter had been in a much darker place. Her emergence from that place was pivotal for both her and Dean.

Settling in her own chair, she remembered the scene she had just witnessed.

“Did you happen to see a figure dressed in black walking down the street as you drove in?” Audrey asked as she ran her fingers through her short gray hair in an effort to appear nonchalant.

Dean and Charlotte shook their heads, saying ‘no’ in unison.

“He had a mask on.” Audrey said.

Charlotte chuckled. “Grams, everybody has a mask on right now.”

 “He was headed toward the backyard of that house, the shudder house, the one that recently sold.”  Audrey pointed to the house.

“That’s strange.” Dean said as he reached into the fast food sack, retrieving breakfast sandwiches. “Maybe he’s a grass trimmer or something.” He handed a sandwich to Charlotte.

“Dad, I don’t believe lawn care staff usually dress in black.” Charlotte peeled back the fast food paper with only two fingers, avoiding most of the wrapping as she tossed it in the paper bag. She applied hand sanitizer, handed it over to her dad, then asked, “What did you have for breakfast, Grandma?”

“Let’s see,” Audrey tried to forget the image of the man as she described her morning meal.

Over the next several hours the three of them laughed and talked. They discussed the recent events—both the tragic and the absurd. They talked about recent favorite TV shows and virtual concerts they enjoyed. All three followed their closest major league baseball team giving them the additional discussion topic of recent adjustments to the game.

Stories of Charlotte as a child were always a favorite subject. But the task would grow difficult as Dean and Audrey tried to avoid mention of Charlotte’s mother. The stories they picked were safe ones about Dean and Charlotte’s fishing trips or errands they would run to the lumber store. Dean worked in construction, having built most of the new homes in the area under his company’s name, Harrison Construction.

Later that night as Audrey lay in bed, her thoughts centered on her granddaughter. A year prior, Charlotte had been a straight A student attending the state university. She enjoyed school and college life, got along well with her dorm roommates, studied hard, and participated in several campus activities. Her goal was to become an attorney specializing in environmental law.

Six months ago her dad made the trip to the college town Charlotte lived in with the purpose of making her bail. Accused of shoplifting a luxury end handbag by slipping it under her coat, she found herself in the women’s cell of the county jail.

Dean brought her home, and after a week of repressed emotions on both sides, he forced her to accompany him at work. She helped out on one of his building crews; fetching needed supplies, ordering and delivering lunches, carrying scaffolding pieces as required. Once in a while glimpses of the young woman she had been emerged; bubbly, funny, and self-composed. She still had hard days, but they became fewer as time progressed.

A familiar heavy wave came over Audrey as she thought back to the day Charlotte’s life changed forever. Through moist eyes she glanced out the dark window. Sidewalk lights illuminated the darkness allowing her to peer into the outside night. The ability to watch the darkness gave her comfort. The shadowy view allowed feelings of connection to the world, a world she now only knew through a screen.

She suddenly set up as her eyes focused on the side of the house across the street. Again, a dark form came into view. This time, the figure was dragging something across the lawn. The object appeared to be a filled trash bag, evidently heavy. As Audrey watched, headlights came into view, then stopped in front of the house. A different dark figure got out of the vehicle and proceeded to help the form dragging the object. The two figures lugged the object to the car, opened the trunk and lifted it into the opening, then shut the lid. Not losing a beat, they got into the car and sped off.

“Damn!” Audrey said. “License plate!” She squinted, trying to make out the plate, but she was too late. “A red, two-door, late model compact car.” She muttered to herself.

Although difficult, she hurried to her door. When she opened it to run out, she remembered. There were explicit instructions requiring residents stay in their room, not leaving under any circumstances, with the exception of an extreme emergency. Extreme emergencies were then defined in detail. Witnessing a crime was not one of them.

“Damn!” She said again, as she rushed to the phone. She hit favorites, then the center’s number and waited for an answer.

“Shady Oak Senior Living. How can I help you?”

“What are Shady Oak’s new rules for residents reporting a crime?” Audrey asked.

“I’m not sure what you mean?” the voice replied.

“Well, I believe I just witnessed a murder.”

——————-

The young, attentive police officer stood on the other side of her door as he talked to Audrey. Through his face mask he said, “Ma’am, we woke the homeowners out of a sound sleep. With everything going on, they didn’t want us in their house. And even if you did see someone dragging a trash bag in the middle of the night, it isn’t illegal.”

“Just the same, it was very suspicious.” Audrey said. “Did you check the windows for fingerprints, survey the back yard? Are you going to stake-out the place, at least for a few nights? Are you sure the homeowners are okay?” She sensed a grin behind his mask.  She knew she sounded like a wannabe Jessica Fletcher.

Audrey glanced down the hall at the open doors. She was sure everyone was up and enjoying this break from their isolated routine. The center’s director, having been called in, stood with the night manager. The director looked put out by the whole thing, what with having quite a bit on her plate over the last few months.

The officer explained, “We don’t have the manpower for a stake-out. Besides, with no evidence, there is no justification.”

After the police left and the commotion subsided, Audrey went back to bed. It was a long time before she fell asleep.

——————-

“Audrey! It’s not like you to sleep until noon!” Janet had opened the door with her security key and stood at the end of Audrey’s bed, breakfast tray in hand.

“I didn’t get much sleep last night. Besides, it’s only eight o’clock.” Audrey sat up, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

“I guess you caused quite a commotion,” Janet remarked.

“They tell me they couldn’t find any evidence of a crime.” Audrey shook her head. ”But it did happen.”

“Then you need to keep watching,” Janet shrugged. “They say criminals return to the scene.”

Audrey thought about Janet’s remark as she ate her breakfast. I guess I might as well. As I read that new book I got from the library I can keep an eye on the house.

After breakfast she called Dean to tell him about her night. He acted concerned, but behind his voice Audrey could tell that stress was weighing heavily on him. Current construction slowdown forced him into laying off some of his crew. It was a good thing Charlotte wasn’t part of the budget, he wasn’t paying her a dime.

When she glanced up from her book to check the time, she was surprised to see it was past noon. Janet brought grilled ham and cheese accompanied by a small bowl of potato salad. A delectable piece of three layer chocolate cake sat next to her glass of iced tea. As she ate the sandwich, Charlotte appeared in Audrey’s window, her blue chair under her arm.

“Grams. I thought I’d stop by during my lunch break. I hear you had an interesting night.” She said as she sat down and retrieved a peanut butter and jelly sandwich from her brown sack.

“I guess I was seeing things, as far as everyone’s concerned,” Audrey said with a grin.

“I can’t imagine that. You’re sharper than anybody I know. Now… that is.” She gave Audrey a half smile.  “Why can’t Dad talk about Mom?”

Audrey sat straighter in the chair. “I don’t know, dear. I’m sure he misses her. But I believe he thinks that in talking about her to you, it will… well, make you sad.”

“Of course it will make me sad.” Charlotte rolled her eyes. “But it’s better than acting like she never existed at all.”

“I’ll talk to your father.” Audrey wasn’t going to enjoy the conversation, but he needed to know how Charlotte felt.

“Thanks, Gram. Are you going to eat that piece of cake?” Charlotte pointed to the cake through the screen.

Later that evening Audrey kept her promise to Charlotte. She called her son.

“I didn’t realize,” Dean said. “I should have talked to her. It’s just hard. I know it’s been nearly a year, but… It’s still fresh in my mind, Mom.”

“I’m sure it is. Julie had a lot of problems. We’ll never know what was really going on with her.” Audrey picked at her blue robe as she talked to avoid grasping her hands too tightly together.

 “She just took off! Left me, her daughter. Who does that? Only a damn note, if that’s what you call it. Dean’s voice was brittle. “Dean, I’m sorry. I love you and Charlotte. I just need some time away.”

Audrey felt the pain as if it was yesterday. Her mind returned to that night. Sitting in her wing chair, Mavis sitting in the other during those days when people could be together. They planned on watching “Funny Girl” on TV. The news was just about over. Settled in with their bowls of popcorn, they watched as Julie’s face flashed on the screen.

“A hometown woman’s body was found hundreds of miles away in what appears to be a hit and run—-” The bowl of popcorn slid from Audrey’s lap as she stared at the screen. “Detectives at the scene told our reporter evidence of tire tracks and witness statements indicate a four-door gray sedan with an out-of-state license plate may have been involved. Preliminary reports state that Julie Harrison may have been jogging. A suspect is in custody… ”

——————-

A few days later, her work day over, Charlotte visited her grandmother again. While the sun set, they chatted. She sat eating vegetable fried rice takeout. Audrey, in a tee with their baseball team logo imprinted on the front, sat eating her dinner of fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Equal time team ball cap on her head, Charlotte watched her computer screen game. Audrey watched the game on the TV. Dean was working on the construction business budget at home and not in a great mood according to Charlotte.

Not long after the game was over, Charlotte picked up her chair to leave.

“Seems odd, no one in the seats,” she remarked.

“Perhaps it’s better that way, taking into consideration the way they played.” Audrey snarked.

As she got up to wave goodbye to her granddaughter, movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. A figure, once again dressed in black, trailed to the back of the shudder house.

“Charlotte!” Audrey couldn’t get the words out of her mouth fast enough. “There!” She pointed. “They’re back! The… whoever that is!”

Before Audrey could react, Charlotte took off running toward the house. “No! Don’t go over there!” Audrey’s mind flashed back in time to the bowl of popcorn, the TV screen, the announcer.

This time instead of calling the desk, Audrey called 911. She screamed into the phone that her granddaughter had taken off running to catch the dark-clad figure. She told the dispatcher to hurry, please hurry!

Desperate to run over to her door, open it, run down the hall, and to the outside, she stood planted in her spot, a helpless feeling overwhelming her. After what seemed like forever, she heard sirens, then came the flashing lights. The officers tore out of their cars with their flashlights aimed toward the back of the house. Then the lights disappeared.

——————-

Epilogue

“At long last our town has the opportunity to come together for this special ceremony.” The town’s police captain stated from the podium to the crowded auditorium.

“This town… this world, has been through devastation not seen for generations. But we’ve come out on the other side. During this unprecedented crisis, there were heroes on every corner, in every situation, and at every juncture.

We are honoring five such heroes tonight. It is my pleasure to announce the recipients of the first award, Charlotte and her grandmother Audrey Harrison. Through their joint efforts, our department apprehended two of the most dangerous criminals our town has ever encountered. Through Audrey Harrison’s persistence and perseverance, the actions of the criminals became known. By bravely following the movements of one of the perpetrators, Charlotte Harrison assisted in their capture. The town would like to show their appreciation by—

Audrey sat next to Charlotte in the front row, Dean beside her. She turned to find Janet sitting with Mavis in the back row. They smiled in her direction.  As the captain detailed out the night’s events to the audience, Audrey ran a film version of her own inside her head:

The night Charlotte disappeared around the corner of the house, she came upon the black-clad figure taking off her knit hat and pulling an elastic hair tie off her blonde ponytail. She pulled the patio door open while she loosened her thick hair. Before Charlotte realized what she was doing, she followed the woman into the house. As Charlotte watched, the blonde figure walked into a bedroom and began speaking to a man sitting on a bed. A lifeless body was lying on the floor, in a puddle of blood, a gun steps away.

Down the hall from the bedroom, Charlotte dialed 911, texted her situation and address, then turned her phone on record.

“We have to be careful. Some nosy old person at that old people’s home across the street must have seen us the other night.” Vern said.

“No. I have to be careful.” The blonde said. “You won’t have to worry about anything.”

The blonde drew out her own gun from her jean pocket and aimed it at the man while she kicked the other gun under the bed.

Panic stricken, Charlotte turned to run toward the kitchen and outside, ready to direct the authorities when they arrived. But, she didn’t see the centerpiece vase of flowers on the table. The vase fell as she accidentally hit the table in her haste.

The man and woman turned toward the noise, looked at each other and ran towards her. The woman got to her first. She brought her gun forward and pointed it at Charlotte.

But she hadn’t noticed the absence of the centerpiece vase, which came crashing down on her head. The gun spilled toward the floor as Charlotte said, “Lady, you should have made better life choices.”

Before the man could react, the back door opened. “This is the police. Each of you raise your hands and stay where you are.”

As the captain narrated the incident, Audrey continued her thoughts about that night. She remembered detectives explaining to her and Charlotte that the blonde assumed the name Tracy; the tall man, Vern. Together they became a ’55-plus’ couple named the Bakersons. Their real names were Chrissy Lowell and Carson Taylor. Chrissy and Carson were wanted in connection with a bogus IRS phone scam. They bilked a few million dollars from hundreds of unsuspecting and vulnerable people. After the FBI began tracing their movements they vanished. The couple’s faces and profiles began appearing in every police station in the area.  They were elusive until they showed up as Tracy and Vern buying the house across the street.

The couple had one goal in mind; to launder their money through a local ex-felon, Lars Compton. In the meantime, they would be under the radar in Audrey’s senior community.

The Bakersons bought the house online. Taking advantage of the occurring crisis, they claimed that their age of 65+ impeded the experience of an in-person transaction. As a result of Audrey’s initial call, the police talked to the couple through semi-closed doors, only seeing a partial headshot of ‘Vern.’ Not in the designated age bracket of 55+, Vern used the present global situation to their advantage. They claimed they were staying in and would prefer not to be in close contact with anyone, as instructed.

On that particular night, the couple had set their plan in motion. The car Audrey saw was a rental. The bag was stuffed with millions of dollars of cash, along with several assault rifles. Lars made the deal with them using his ‘influential connections.’ His connections requested the guns and ammunition as a ‘bonus’ for his trouble. Because it took some convincing by Audrey that she really had witnessed suspicious activity, a lot of time elapsed before the living center staff made the call to the police. By the time the police arrived the couple had transferred the black bag to Lars and returned to the shudder house.

The night of the second call and subsequent capture began with Lars going to the house. The deal secured, it was time for Lars to hand over the laundered cash. However, he kept more than his part. As Carson counted the money, he slowly realized Lars ‘indiscretion.’ Muttering something along the lines of having to piss, Carson walked to the bedroom, opened the bed stand drawer and drew out a gun. Lars followed him, rightfully suspicious. And as things like that go: Lars explained his situation/Carson didn’t buy it/Lars lunged/Carson fired.

Meanwhile, Chrissy had plans of her own. She told Carson she was going for takeout. That he could handle the transaction, she trusted him. But he shouldn’t have trusted her. Once in the car she changed into her black pants, turtleneck, hoodie, and ball cap. Carson wasn’t the only person with a gun. She planned on killing him once Lars left and she was back inside the house, taking the money for herself.

All that changed once Audrey saw her, and Charlotte walk into the house.

——————-

As the captain completed his story, he asked the award recipients to step forward. Audrey and Charlotte accepted their tokens of appreciation; gold bracelets embossed with the police department logo and the inscription, “Together we conquer our enemies.”

Later, as Charlotte, Dean, and Audrey sat with their friends at a table at their favorite local restaurant, Dean held high his stein of beer in a toast to Charlotte and Audrey.

Mavis addressed Charlotte asking, “So, what are your plans, now that the world has opened back up again?”

“I’m going back to school.” Charlotte replied. “I plan on getting that law degree. But I also plan on coming home during the summer to help my dad. And to see Grams. This time from anywhere we damn well feel like going.”

Audrey stood up and hugged her granddaughter, her tee emblazoned with the words ‘Seize the Day! It’s A Crime Not To!’  Raising her glass once again she said, “I’d also like to make a toast. To us. To the world. To being together, again.”