Chapter 46
Short Straw: Does This Mean We are Friends?
The ride to the gate from the fireman’s station was the longest part of the ride.
I watched the ships pass on their way, as I made my way home.
I remembered the ship I was on and got a chill.
Goosebumps clash with a fireman’s outfit.
I’m an oxymoron.
Put it back in the box, Lee Ann.
Squish it all down.
So much has happened.
I have a mile to go.
I give in to crying.
I miss my mom.
Wallow in it a while.
Would the crazy never stop?
How many “keep pushing forward” moments does a woman have to go through?
And there was the funeral tomorrow.
What was the first letter of the evil thing that killed that baby girl?
I wanted something else to hate.
I stopped at the side of the road before the turn into Ft. Clayton.
I wanted to wipe my tears so Short Straw wouldn’t ask questions.
OK.
Around the corner now.
Smile.
What?
Why’s he stepping out?
He only does that if there’s a problem.
I dried my eyes.
No problem here.
I dug out my ID.
“Hey, got the Short Straw again, did you.”
“Actually, I jumped my turn this time. I wanted to check on you?”
That doesn’t make sense.
“Excuse me?”
“Well, we had heard you flatlined the other day.”
I literally laughed.
That was a very awkward laugh.
“Just death. I’m back now.”
“But… you’re okay, right?”
“Turns out I’m allergic to poison… go figure.”
“You ate poison?”
He stepped out of the traffic to finish the conversation.
That’s odd.
He’s not allowed outside of the yellow area around the shack.
The other MP let in the string of cars.
I was lost in my thoughts until he repeated his question.
“You ate poison?”
“No! Well, yes, I suppose I did. It’s a Snow-White thing.”
“Does this have something to do with the clown suit?”
I tried to unravel my thoughts as I rambled.
“The what? No…
…Snow White.
…The seven dwarves.
…The poison apple?”
There. I am being perfectly clear.
“I know who Snow White is. Oh!
You must have gotten an apple with DDT in it.”
“It’s that common?”
“More than you’d think.
Did you really flatline?”
“Yep! Out for almost a whole minute.”
“What was it like to die?
Did you see a light?”
“Aren’t you sweet.
Nope.
But I didn’t feel the flames of hell either.”
“Just nothing?”
“I think I heard an argument when I was dead.”
“A what?”
“A verbal fight, you know.
An argument.
I didn’t say anything to anybody because I’m just sick of not being believed.”
“Who wouldn’t believe you?
I’ll believe you.”
Bless his heart.
“Okay…” I drew him in close with my Patrick-secret-whisper.
It also got him a little farther out of the street.
Mission accomplished.
“You see, I heard Jesus and Satan fighting.”
“Really?”
“Yeppers.
They were shouting back and forth.
They were arguing about me!”
“’No, it’s not happening that way.
I’m in charge of Heaven, and I say this is how it will be.”
“Now, that was my sweet Jesus speaking.”
He was listening.
I do love an audience.
I got half-a-beat quieter.
He moved half-a-closer
“Then Satan, he says,
‘Well, I’m telling you, Hell isn’t prepared to give up any ground on this issue.’
Satan, he’s rude that way, talking about me like I’m an object.”
“What happened next?”
“Why, you’re smart enough to figure that out!
Since neither one of them wanted me…
They sent me back!”
I blinked.
He groaned.
“I looked for you the other day.
I was on the USS Moosbrugger.”
“I was in the barracks when that ship passed.
Who do you know?
How’d you get an invite to that?”
“I’m friends with that two-star that came through.”
Short Straw gave out a low whistle that I shrugged off.
“Can I go on now?”
“Wait!” he called out,
“What are you doing in the fireman suit?”
I looked down.
The fireman’s suit
Cancer.
“If I tell you, are y’all going to laugh disrespectfully at me when I leave.”
“Probably.”
“Then I’m not telling you.”
I got on my bike and pedaled home.
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