Not Much of a Bully Now #2
“Ellie!”
“Patty!”
The pass through the wall to the mail room had metal bars as if somebody might attempt to rob them.
If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought I stepped into the roaring twenties with all the brass.
The woman on the other side must have been close to Mum’s age.
With her hair in a bun and wearing a sweater far too heavy for the season, she gave me a quick glance.
“Dickie left this in the box.” Of course, Dickie, the same mailman from when I was a kid.
“Let me grab your fabric.” The woman running the post office must know everybody’s business. “You must have a new project in mind.”
While Mum visited, dishing about a new quilt design, I busied myself studying the wall.
The bulletin board is exactly what I imagined.
A school play. A school concert. A baked goods sale.
In a small town, the school served as a community hub.
Nothing about that had changed. It kept them feeling busy, as if there were more going on than nosing in one another.
I zeroed in on the high school’s art class exhibit.
The bright purple paper stood out among the photocopied posters.
More than the color, I spotted Celtic knotwork going down one side.
As I ran my fingers along the surface, I discovered it had been hand-rendered onto the paper.
The fine lines and perfect spacing would have impressed any tattoo artist. Whichever kid had produced that should consider an apprenticeship in their future.
It’d give them the opportunity to say good riddance to Firefly.
Further down, I found metal protruding from the wall.
Like a Rolodex, I flipped through the photos, amused that the post office in Firefly Valley had the F.B.I.
’s most wanted list. It switched from mugshots to police sketches and back again.
To think, somewhere in the tedium of Firefly, there might be an art thief or ex-member of the mafia.
A few weeks here and they’d turn themselves in.
“Audrey should never let him leave the house without approving his outfit.”
The post office, like every public space in Firefly, turned into an event. Mum didn’t come for her package. This was an excuse to gab with one of her friends. I hadn’t been listening and didn’t know which man they chuckled about.
“I forgot to tell you.” Patty’s voice quickened. It was as if I had walked into my own personal hell. They treated gossip as a communal activity, and I wanted no part of it. “Sheryl and Rick.” She emphasized the and, making it clear the gossip involved their partnering.
“Good for her,” Mum said. “He’s such a gentleman.”
“You know what they say about a gentleman in the streets?”
If Mum finished that phrase, we’d have a stern talk about the birds and the bees on the way home. Despite what she claimed, I was born through immaculate conception, and the friskiest my parents ever got involved holding hands. Illogical, but I’d stand by it.
For the sake of my sanity, I returned to tuning them out. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted an older woman on the sidewalk. Without any subtlety, she stared. We locked eyes, and neither of us refused to turn away. She only broke eye contact as she approached the door.
The intense gaze returned as she entered. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to get the mail or have a staring contest. It was only when she reached the counter that she turned toward the other women.
I had worn a t-shirt to blend in, but it’d be impossible to hide neck, arm, and calf tattoos without sweltering. A younger version of me would have retreated under the glare. Now, I puffed out my chest in defiance. Never again would I let narrow-minded people cause me to shrink.
“Delores, it’s been ages.”
The name didn’t ring any bells. If I asked, I’m sure I’d know her grandson and that her daughter had been my babysitter. I caught her eye again, and she turned away. Had I just been shunned by a woman old enough to owe Jesus a buck?
It wasn’t the accusatory glances that irked me.
The whispering in such a small space couldn’t be quiet enough to go unheard.
When she hissed Johnny’s name, I tensed.
Of course, the whole town had already heard about my run-in with one of their own.
I’m sure the tale had grown to where I pistol-whipped him and threatened his entire family.
Mum glanced back, eyes filled with worry.
I gave her a slight wave and headed outside.
I hadn’t thought about what would happen when I pinned Johnny to the wall.
It had been satisfying, cathartic even, but I should have known the outcome.
My beef with him would be front-page gossip.
It was probably the biggest event in the town since… ever.
I took a deep breath, trying to shove the anger into a tidy little box.
Down the sidewalk, a couple of guys gave me the same intense stare.
It would appear the entire town had heard about the scuffle.
Of course. They took an interest when it was one of their inner circle.
I wanted to ask where they had been when Johnny tortured me for years.
I hadn’t fit their perfect mold, and because of that, I wasn’t worthy of their intervention.
There was no way to pack away the box and set the anger aside.
I returned the glare, making it clear I was onto them.
No matter what I did, it’d become fodder for the rumor mill.
By the end of the day, they’ll have turned me into an arsonist who tried to burn down the town.
Nothing had changed. Firefly needed to change its motto from ‘A friendly town’ to ‘A judgmental town.’
I resisted the urge to flip them off. As much as the muscle in my hand twitched, I didn’t want to cause Mum any problems. I’m sure Delores was reading her the riot act.
At her next quilting meeting, they’d interrogate her for information.
I still planned to walk away, but Mum had to live with the fallout from my actions.
It was the only thing that kept me from barking obscenities.
I got in the truck, flipped the key, and reached for the radio. Static. No matter how much I turned the dials, nothing happened. I turned it off, leaned back in the seat, and closed my eyes. If I couldn’t pack away my anger, I could at least—
I imagined towering pines.
The moment I had crossed the line from Seamus’s field into the woods, the world slowed.
Guarded by trees older than Firefly, the worries of reality couldn’t penetrate.
There was a here and there. For a second, I couldn’t feel the ridges of the steering wheel.
The memory of rough bark and sticky sap gave me the space to breathe.
With each step, the weight on my chest lifted, replaced with a vigor I hadn’t experienced in years.
Birds chirped, and every time the breeze picked up, the trees groaned.
They sang their song, but louder than a hundred-year-old baritone, I could hear his whispers.
Since I left, I struggled to hear that roar of laughter.
Somewhere between that line and the river, his voice returned, bold, unhindered by the complexities of real life.
Under the gentle sway of branches, I didn’t remember him in the hospital bed.
My fingers tightened on the wheel.
It wasn’t only Pops’s presence that lingered.
I could feel the muscles pull as I glanced over my shoulder to see him.
The city boy followed without speaking. His eyes took in the trees as if he had never seen them up close.
He’d take in a breath with a slight gasp and hold it, as if he were mulling it over like fine wine.
For both of us, it had been exactly what we needed.
If I thought about it too long, I’d start thinking about him sprawled out in front of the fire.
The passenger door creaked open, dragging me back to the here and now.
She dragged her booted foot in and slammed the door shut before dumping the box between us.
The thin lips and clenched hands gave away her anger.
Something inside had happened, turning her visit foul.
“Are you—”
“Delores has been uninvited to the luncheon.” Uninviting in Firefly might as well have been a left hook. “How dare she?”
I didn’t need to ask. This had become a common reaction as a kid. The only people who defended me were my parents. At the cost of friends and social standing, they had done their best. There were no follow-up questions. She flicked her hand toward the wheel, signaling me to head back to the house.
Firefly had revealed itself to be the same town I fled.
Turning the key, I pulled out of the spot. By the time we passed the green, I was already longing for the simplicity of the forest. I should have thought the urge to run made me a coward, but I continued telling myself it was for survival.
“Will you be okay if I go camping for a couple days?”
“Charles…”
I refused to look away from the road. If I saw those eyes filled with worry, I’d crack. Being angry at people for what they did to me was one thing. Involving Mum? Me being the reason people pulled away? It’d break my heart, and right now, there wasn’t room for more emotion.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
We drove in uncomfortable silence.