So here's the deal, just in case you haven't been following my brilliant musings over on Becoming Leigh Fischer, I am back and on a schedule. Surviving the Apocalypse will now be updated every Sunday, no later than 10 PM EST (though I will probably be a couple minutes late tonight, but it is my deadline).
Unfortunately, I do not have the next installment of Delirium Jane (she will be back next Sunday . . . probably . . . maybe). But I do have a short story for you. This is a recent short I wrote in response to a Lifetime Movie writing prompt. I took my inspiration from a local woman's real life apocalypse. My hometown peeps should appreciate this one. Enjoy!
The List
Rebecca, Kerri, Vickie, and Alice have all met for their
weekly book club meeting at The Leafy
Dragon, a small café in town. They
sit at a round table picking at sandwiches and salads, gossiping about anything
other than whatever book they were supposed to be reading.
“Did you hear? The list is coming out today,” Rebecca says
as she fiddles with her iPad.
“Of course I’ve heard. When was the last time we had
something so scandalous go on around here?” Vickie squeals with excitement.
“I know, this is so much better than that time Margie’s
sweet angel made the arrests section of the paper for drunk driving,” Kerri
adds.
“You know, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if her husband’s name is on the list,”
Vickie chuckles.
“How fabulous would that be?” Rebecca says with a devilish
grin. “Could you imagine? Perfect Margie’s gorgeous husband . . . paying for
sex!”
“I don’t know. I don’t think that’s very funny. They have
had a lot of trouble lately and are going through some tough times, they aren’t
so perfect,” Alice says quietly to her friends.
“Funny, her troubles don’t seem to have changed her
attitude at all,” Kerri sneers.
“It’s up! The list! I found it! The Journal has it posted!” Rebecca cries.
The three other women immediately jump to their feet and
push back their chairs. They rush around the table and crowd over Rebecca to
get a look at the rumored list on her beautiful glowing crystal ball.
“Roger Adams? The high school football coach, Roger
Adams?” Vickie asks.
“Must be. He’s the right age and I am pretty sure he lives
on West Side,” Rebecca answers.
The women cluck excitedly as they scroll down through the
list of men’s names, ages, and town of residence.
Many of the names they don’t
recognize, but when they catch sight of one they do, there is a roar of
laughter and hushed speculation.
“Oh my. Harry Richards.”
“What a shame.”
“Mary must be devastated.”
“Chris Taylor? That’s Samantha’s new boyfriend isn’t it?”
“I’d say that was
Samantha’s new boyfriend.”
“Look, Leo Warren.”
“Not surprising.”
“Not at all.”
As their eyes drop to the last name on the list, their
chatter ceases and they stare in disbelief.
“No . . . it can’t be,” escapes from Kerri’s lips
“Of course not sweetie. There must be another Mike Wilson
in South Ridge,” one of her friends says without conviction.
Kerri nods, but she can feel the burning in her eyes as
they begin to well with tears and she knows the truth. She knows her husband
has been linked to the scandal of the decade, if not the century, and her life
as she knows it is over.
*
The headline first broke three weeks ago, ZUMBA
INSTRUCTOR ARRESTED FOR PROSTITUTION! The headline alone was sensational
enough for the small city, but as the days passed and the police continued
their investigation, more and more details were released to the public.
It really was a fabulous story, unlike anything that had
ever been seen before. A beautiful young woman in her early thirties open’s a
new zumba studio. She’s a local girl. Older folks remember her as a child and
everyone else remembers going to school with her. Her business is wonderfully
busy, but then again, zumba is all the rage. It is the perfect success story
for a lovely girl. And then the gorgeous façade falls apart. She is arrested in
the middle of one of her classes in a thrillingly public display of police
power. It is soon released that she has been charged with a list of felonies a
mile long to include prostitution, conspiracy to commit prostitution, and tax
fraud and evasion. The absolute best part was that she kept meticulous records
of all her clients. 137 johns were listed over a two year period. It was
rumored that the list contained notables including a few politicians, a local
news anchor, and a county judge.
Once the names had been scrubbed and the paperwork filed
to bring charges against the johns, the list was released to the public and
that is when all hell broke loose.
*
“Michael! How could you do this to me? Do you have any
idea what it was like? How humiliating it was? Right there in the middle of The Leafy Dragon!” Kerri screams at her
husband in their kitchen later that night.
“God Kerri! You find out that I’m cheating and you’re
upset about where you found out? Only you!” Mike screams back, exasperated.
“Everyone knows! It’s everywhere! You should have seen the
look on Vickie’s face.”
“Oh I’m sure I can-“
“And Alice couldn’t even look at me!” Tears stream down
her face as she crosses her arms and looks away from her husband. “It’s not
just cheating. This is so much worse. It’s so . . . so . . . so public.”
“I didn’t even want to do zumba. It was your idea,” Mike
mutters.
“What? So this is my fault? I didn’t realize that you were
incapable of working out and keeping
your dick in your pants! Should I also be concerned about what you’re doing
with Greg when you go play ‘basketball’ with him?”
“No! Of course not!”
“What am I going to do? Just what am I going to do?”
“I don’t know what you’re going to do, but I know exactly
what I’m going to do.”
“And what is that, Michael?”
“I’ve already gotten a lawyer. I’m going to fight this.”
“But that means . . . You can’t! I won’t let you!”
“You won’t let me? Try and stop me! There is no way I am
going to jail over this. My lawyer thinks I have a case.”
“But if you fight it in court and go to trial it will be
all over the news. You can’t. Just when people will be starting to forget, it
will start all over again.”
“Kerri, don’t be ridiculous. This is my life, my freedom,
we are talking about. Not some bad dye job you don’t want anyone to see.”
“Michael, think of your children.”
“I am, damn it!”
Headlights beam through the kitchen window as a car pulls
into the driveway, silencing both Mike and Kerri instantly.
“Not a word about this,” Kerri hisses at her husband.
Seventeen year-old Lisa walks through the door and stares
at her parents. Kerri is leaning against the kitchen sink with her arms
crossed. Trying to look natural and comfortable, she forces her arms to her
sides and grimaces at her daughter. Mike shifts his weight awkwardly with his
hands shoved into his pockets. His eyes dart about the room avoiding contact
with the other two women.
“So it’s true,” Lisa says quietly as she closes the door.
“What’s true, sweetie?” Kerri says in a voice all too
playful.
“Mother, cut the
crap. It’s all over town. Everyone knows. Did you know Milo was running a pool?
Little bugger made 500 bucks.”
“What? A pool?” This time Kerri’s ignorance is sincere.
“Yea. When the cops first said they were gonna’ release
the list, he started getting kids at school to bet that their dad’s names were
on the list.”
“What kind of kids bet against their own fathers?”
“Well, at first it was just the kids that know they have
shitty dads. But as the pool got bigger, more people wanted in, just in case .
. . I think some of the teachers even got in on it.”
Kerri stares at her daughter in disbelief, trying to make
sense of her words.
Lisa shakes her head. “I should have listened to him.
Right from the beginning he said Dad was a sure thing since Dad did zumba.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. She had plenty of legitimate
students,” Mike says defiantly.
“But you weren’t one of them!” Kerri screams, ending her
momentary ceasefire.
“Where is your brother?” Mike asks his daughter, ignoring
his wife as she bursts into uncontrolled sobs.
“I dropped him at Zach’s. He didn’t want to be here for
this. Can’t say I blame him. I’m just here to make sure she doesn’t try to kill
you or something.”
Mike smiles weakly at his daughter. “I’m sorry kiddo. I .
. . this wasn’t . . . I didn’t . . .”
“It’s ok, Dad. Me and Milo, we’re gonna be fine.” Lisa
walks to her father and wraps her arms around him. “Mom, is another story.”
Mike kisses the top of her head. “No matter what happens,
remember I love you kids. I always will.”
*
Kerri hasn’t left the house in days. She is too ashamed to
be seen in public. Mike wants to move out, to give her some space and time, but
she just bursts into tears and cries that having her husband walk out on her
would only add insult to injury. Instead, he sleeps in the guest room and
spends long hours at the office.
“Ma, you should get cleaned up and go out to dinner with Aunt
Alice. She was asking about you,” Milo says. He is a precocious fourteen year
old who frequently forgets his age and place in the world.
Kerri continues to surf through the endless TV channels.
Lounged on the couch, she wears red plaid pajamas and a pink bathrobe. There is
a half empty box of tissues next to her on the floor and dozens of used ones
crumpled and scattered about. An empty pint of Chunky Monkey is tipped over on
the coffee table and the last of the ice cream has melted, dripped out and
congealed on the wood.
“Ma, you stink. It’s August and you’re wearing flannel.
When was the last time you showered?”
Kerri ignores her son’s pleas until he shrugs
and gives up, leaving her to wallow.
*
“I heard that she hasn’t left the house in over a month,”
Margie whispers to her husband while they wait for the high school band
performance to begin.
“And where did you hear that?” Jim asks, humoring his
wife.
“Laura told me.”
“And our daughter is always such a reliable source,” Jim
says dryly.
“Well she heard it directly from the horse’s mouth. Or
damn near. The Wilson Boy-“
“Milo,” he corrects.
“Yes, yes. Milo’s locker is next to Laura’s. She overheard
him telling his friends. They were placing bets.”
“On what?”
“On when she’s going to leave the house!”
“Oh.”
“Of course I can’t blame her. What he did to her . . .
she’s ruined.”
“She’s not ruined, it’s just an affair.”
“An affair? It’s prostitution. It’s public. In the newspaper.
On TV. I bet they’ll even make a movie about this. It’s humiliating. If I were
her, I would probably kill myself.”
“Baby, that’s a bit harsh. And why do you even care?”
“That bitch is always spreading filthy lies about me . . .
shhh the band is starting.”
*
At 9 pm on a Wednesday night approximately six weeks after
the list was released to the public, Channel 6 cuts from a sitcom to a news
anchor in his late thirties with beautiful wavy brown hair and a sparkling
smile.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are interrupting our regularly
scheduled programming to bring you this late breaking report. Just moments ago,
an hours long standoff between police and a local woman ended in tragedy. We
now go live to Jessica Thomas, on site. Jessica?”
The image cuts to a blonde woman standing in a residential
neighborhood with a police officer.
“Thanks Tim. I am standing here with Officer Reynolds who
was the first officer to report to the site and has been here through the whole
ordeal. Officer what can you tell us?”
“Yea, I got a call ‘round 6. Neighbors had called in a
domestic. Said there was a lot of yelling going on. When I got here things were
pretty quiet. I knocked on the door. No answer. I tried again. Still no answer.
As I started to walk away I heard someone scream ‘she’s got a gun.’ At that point I radioed for backup. It turned out the mother
had taken her husband and two kids hostage.”
“What happened
next, Officer,” Jessica coaxes.
The officer shakes his head, suddenly distraught. “We
messed up. Damn, we messed up bad. We waited too long or we rushed too soon. We
did something wrong. We were trying to negotiate. We thought we were getting
somewhere with her. Then all of a sudden . . . bam . . . bam-bam . . . . . .
bam. She killed them all and then she kill-“
“This interview is over. Reynolds, get back to the station,”
another police officer says as he rushes up and puts his hand in front of the
camera.
Jessica tries to hold onto her scoop. “Officer, we are-”
“This interview is over; the Chief will be calling a press
conference within the hour. You can get your story then.”
The feed cuts back to the handsome anchor in the studio.
“We will keep you posted as this story unfolds and details
become available. We apologize for the interruption and now return you to
regularly scheduled broadcasting, already in progress.”
The feed jumps back to the sitcom, leaving viewers to
speculate about what had happened, whose family had been ruined, and why.
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