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Halloween story, because I love today THEEEEES MUCH.
You can consider it a warm up for NaNoWriMo (eep, it's only 900 something words, and took far longer than I have to spend every day), a product of my twisted, tired mind, or not at all - if that's what you prefer.
*
If We Get Out Alive
*
Laura works as a waitress in a small coffee shop downtown, and she’s worked there for the past seven years or so. Every day she goes to work and says hello to Frank (the elderly widower who owns Giovanna’s Ghost), makes small talk with the customers (Sarah from the flower shop comes in at lunchtime, has two small children, Mr. Matthews comes for the conversation with Frank, stays for a coffee pot or two) and cuts crusts off brown bread for neurotic, yet health conscious, patrons.
It’s a small life, but it’s Laura’s own. She’s thought about leaving, moving to the city, but it’s never amounted to much more than those - thoughts. Family’s here, Sean’s here, friends are here, life’s here.
Today is Halloween and Laura’s enjoying watching kids traipse up and down the street, partially visible through the large glass windows that claim Giovanna’s coffee to be the best in town. There are all the usual costumes – Darth, firemen, cowgirls – but it’s not until a witch goes screaming down the sidewalk, reclaiming her hat from the wind, that Laura really smiles. She wants to be eight again, be a witch again.
An elderly woman (Agnes, married to Stephen, three children, two grandchildren) who's having lunch with her daughter (Michelle, divorced, no children) asks for the bill, bringing Laura back to reality. She grins sheepishly from underneath a stack of dishes, adjusts her halo – wings proved to be unpractical during the noon-hour rush – and hurries back to the counter.
Frank nods at her in between Brando impersonations (no one’s told him that he doesn’t have to dress-up to be decidedly Godfatheresque, or maybe he knows and it’s one of his jokes, one of the ones that no one else seems to get) and the cash register’s click click adds a subtle counterpoint to the rise and fall of conversation.
*
The regular customers are heading back to work, and things are starting to calm down when the stranger walks into Giovanna’s.
He’s wearing an expensive suit, carrying a briefcase and has a cowboy hat tucked under one arm. The man, thirty or so, shuts down any attempt at conversation, ignores Laura’s friendly smiles and asks for a coffee, please.
The man in the suit drinks his coffee, a small cell phone on his table. Every few moments the phone rings, the man starts, ignores the call, sends it to voicemail, stares at the phone. This goes on for roughly fifteen minutes, Frank will later tell the police.
When the man is done, he leaves behind the phone and cowboy hat.
*
Laura doesn’t watch the news on Halloween; she’s supposed to be handing out candy at Sean’s parents’ place. She gets a call though, and by the time she’s back downtown, the place is crawling with cops.
She shows them where she tucked the man’s belongings, behind the counter, and tells them everything they want to know.
*
A phone ringing, but with a ring tone that isn’t hers (Beethoven’s something symphony, she thinks), wakes her up from dreams of milky white ghosts and rodeo clowns. Laura follows the sound to a small black phone in the pocket of her fall coat.
She doesn’t understand.
Hello? She says.
I’m too tired for this, says the voice. They had me cornered. I wanted out.
Who is this? Asks Laura.
Silence.
It’s me, Gavin.
*
Once upon a time, Laura went to school with a boy named Gavin, and they were friends. But that was a long time ago.
In fifth grade, Gavin’s family moved away, today he died, and now the police are telling Laura that they haven’t lost – or misplaced – any pieces of evidence, really.
When Laura puts her hand inside her pocket to show them she’s not insane, it closes around gloves and air.
She feels like crying.
Instead she goes home, and there’s a small black cell-phone ringing on her kitchen table.
*
Hello, how have you been?
You know, okay. I hear you made it big.
Yeah, I did. It wasn’t worth it.
Sorry.
Hey, don’t be. A hesitant pause. Remember grade four?
Mrs. MacMahon’s class?
You were an angel, that Halloween.
You remember that?
Yeah, but only because you made me be one too, and all the other boys made fun of my wings.
Laura laughs, watery but genuine.
That’s right – I dared you to be an angel, and you said you would if I was Indiana Jones with you, that next year. You loved those movies, a nine year old freak.
Except that I moved that summer, he prompts.
Your poor father was so distressed by his little boy wanting silver glitter and feathered wings, your parents probably moved to get you away from my influence.
Maybe. Or maybe because my father’s company downsized and my mother was a budding alcoholic.
Oh.
I didn’t know.
Neither did I.
At least you got to see the world - did you discover ancient relics and save humanity from itself after all?
Nah, I’m still waiting on you for that.
*
When Laura goes to work the next day, it’s a media circus from hell. But even weeks later, when things are as back to normal as they’ll ever get at Giovanna’s, it all strikes Laura as insincere. Frank’s laugh grates, as he celebrates his own wit, every customer’s ingratitude stings more than the last.
She doesn’t want to be here, doing this, for the rest of her life.
Three days from now, Laura fills out an application form: Anthropology.
Six months from now, having barely stopped herself from sporting an Indiana style hat and whip, Laura moves out of her town and into the world - a little black phone at the bottom of her suitcase.
*
*
If We Get Out Alive
*
Laura works as a waitress in a small coffee shop downtown, and she’s worked there for the past seven years or so. Every day she goes to work and says hello to Frank (the elderly widower who owns Giovanna’s Ghost), makes small talk with the customers (Sarah from the flower shop comes in at lunchtime, has two small children, Mr. Matthews comes for the conversation with Frank, stays for a coffee pot or two) and cuts crusts off brown bread for neurotic, yet health conscious, patrons.
It’s a small life, but it’s Laura’s own. She’s thought about leaving, moving to the city, but it’s never amounted to much more than those - thoughts. Family’s here, Sean’s here, friends are here, life’s here.
Today is Halloween and Laura’s enjoying watching kids traipse up and down the street, partially visible through the large glass windows that claim Giovanna’s coffee to be the best in town. There are all the usual costumes – Darth, firemen, cowgirls – but it’s not until a witch goes screaming down the sidewalk, reclaiming her hat from the wind, that Laura really smiles. She wants to be eight again, be a witch again.
An elderly woman (Agnes, married to Stephen, three children, two grandchildren) who's having lunch with her daughter (Michelle, divorced, no children) asks for the bill, bringing Laura back to reality. She grins sheepishly from underneath a stack of dishes, adjusts her halo – wings proved to be unpractical during the noon-hour rush – and hurries back to the counter.
Frank nods at her in between Brando impersonations (no one’s told him that he doesn’t have to dress-up to be decidedly Godfatheresque, or maybe he knows and it’s one of his jokes, one of the ones that no one else seems to get) and the cash register’s click click adds a subtle counterpoint to the rise and fall of conversation.
*
The regular customers are heading back to work, and things are starting to calm down when the stranger walks into Giovanna’s.
He’s wearing an expensive suit, carrying a briefcase and has a cowboy hat tucked under one arm. The man, thirty or so, shuts down any attempt at conversation, ignores Laura’s friendly smiles and asks for a coffee, please.
The man in the suit drinks his coffee, a small cell phone on his table. Every few moments the phone rings, the man starts, ignores the call, sends it to voicemail, stares at the phone. This goes on for roughly fifteen minutes, Frank will later tell the police.
When the man is done, he leaves behind the phone and cowboy hat.
*
Laura doesn’t watch the news on Halloween; she’s supposed to be handing out candy at Sean’s parents’ place. She gets a call though, and by the time she’s back downtown, the place is crawling with cops.
She shows them where she tucked the man’s belongings, behind the counter, and tells them everything they want to know.
*
A phone ringing, but with a ring tone that isn’t hers (Beethoven’s something symphony, she thinks), wakes her up from dreams of milky white ghosts and rodeo clowns. Laura follows the sound to a small black phone in the pocket of her fall coat.
She doesn’t understand.
Hello? She says.
I’m too tired for this, says the voice. They had me cornered. I wanted out.
Who is this? Asks Laura.
Silence.
It’s me, Gavin.
*
Once upon a time, Laura went to school with a boy named Gavin, and they were friends. But that was a long time ago.
In fifth grade, Gavin’s family moved away, today he died, and now the police are telling Laura that they haven’t lost – or misplaced – any pieces of evidence, really.
When Laura puts her hand inside her pocket to show them she’s not insane, it closes around gloves and air.
She feels like crying.
Instead she goes home, and there’s a small black cell-phone ringing on her kitchen table.
*
Hello, how have you been?
You know, okay. I hear you made it big.
Yeah, I did. It wasn’t worth it.
Sorry.
Hey, don’t be. A hesitant pause. Remember grade four?
Mrs. MacMahon’s class?
You were an angel, that Halloween.
You remember that?
Yeah, but only because you made me be one too, and all the other boys made fun of my wings.
Laura laughs, watery but genuine.
That’s right – I dared you to be an angel, and you said you would if I was Indiana Jones with you, that next year. You loved those movies, a nine year old freak.
Except that I moved that summer, he prompts.
Your poor father was so distressed by his little boy wanting silver glitter and feathered wings, your parents probably moved to get you away from my influence.
Maybe. Or maybe because my father’s company downsized and my mother was a budding alcoholic.
Oh.
I didn’t know.
Neither did I.
At least you got to see the world - did you discover ancient relics and save humanity from itself after all?
Nah, I’m still waiting on you for that.
*
When Laura goes to work the next day, it’s a media circus from hell. But even weeks later, when things are as back to normal as they’ll ever get at Giovanna’s, it all strikes Laura as insincere. Frank’s laugh grates, as he celebrates his own wit, every customer’s ingratitude stings more than the last.
She doesn’t want to be here, doing this, for the rest of her life.
Three days from now, Laura fills out an application form: Anthropology.
Six months from now, having barely stopped herself from sporting an Indiana style hat and whip, Laura moves out of her town and into the world - a little black phone at the bottom of her suitcase.
*