Size Matters (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters)

by Robyn Peterman

  “Explain,” he said in a clipped tone. He approached her warily and placed himself between her and the bomb.

  Edith walked up behind her twin and stood at attention. They looked fierce and determined and sad. “Vietnam. Special Forces . . . four tours. Now move,” Edith demanded in a tone that would brook no bullshit.

  Mitch backed away with a look of awe and shock on his face.

  “But you’re women,” Mariah gasped.

  “Not just women . . . we’re dykes,” Coco said in a serious voice that sent me over the edge.

  I lost it. I knew the inappropriate laughing monster had possessed me, but this day had been too much and it didn’t seem like it was going to get better anytime soon. It was either laugh or cry and my brain clearly chose laughter . . . so did everyone else’s.

  “All right, enough,” Edith shouted, laughing too. “I can’t concentrate with you swamp-asses making all that noise. Mariah, see if you can pick the locks. Kristy, help her. You bald motherfuckers see if you can remove the boards from the windows. Boo, Candace, and Kim, look for another exit. Hugh, I’d like to hear some Barry Manilow while I deactivate this son of a bitch. Mitch, you versed in bombs?”

  “Specialized,” he replied.

  Everyone stood frozen with fright and then Hugh started singing . . . and it was beautiful.

  “You heard the woman. Move. We have less than fifteen minutes,” Mitch said. “Go, go, go.”

  It was a controlled chaos. Mitch, with calm authority, directed everyone to their post and then he and the dykes went to work.

  “Damn,” Mariah muttered. “I got the main lock, but I think it’s padlocked from the outside . . . Problem here,” she called out.

  “Name it,” Mitch said while still focusing on the bomb.

  Mariah explained and was met with silence.

  “Kristy,” Coco directed, “I can’t move at the moment unless we’d all like to be blown to smithereens. You’re going to carefully remove my sword and puncture a hole in the door big enough for Mariah to get her arm through.”

  “Oookay,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want Mariah to do it? She’s stronger.”

  “Can’t risk her lock-picking hands. You don’t need yours,” she said absently, absorbed in her task.

  “You can do it, baby,” Mitch told me, not looking up.

  “Right.” I took a deep breath and removed the sword like I was performing brain surgery. The clock was ticking and the atmosphere in the cabin was stifling. I could hear the Baldies banging on the boards and the murmurs of frantic searching from the rest of the crew. My job was simple and straightforward. Take the ginormous, heavy sword and punch a hole in the door. Don’t worry about breaking my hands because as long as the hole gets punched, my hands are unimportant collateral damage. Got it.

  It sounded much easier in my head than physically doing it. The sword had to weigh fifteen pounds, but with the adrenaline I had pumping, I could probably lift a car. Sweating like a whore in confession, I backed up and ran at the door with the sword in my hand. The jolt of contact was jarring and painful. The crack I heard in my wrist made the collateral damage issue very real . . . and I didn’t make a hole.

  “Get on that door, Kristy,” Mitch ordered. “The bomb is more sophisticated than I thought.”

  “Who knew those shiny bastards were so smart,” Edith spat angrily. “I don’t feel good about this.”

  The Baldies’ pounding increased tenfold and the whimpers from Kim brought home the gravity of the situation.

  “There’s a crawl space entrance,” Candace called out. “I’ll try to pry the door off.”

  “Dave, Dan,” Mitch said sternly. “Go to Candace.”

  “Roger that,” Dave shouted from the back room. “The windows won’t budge without a crowbar.”

  “Dave,” Mitch ordered, still totally immersed in the bomb. “Redirect. Find something strong. Try to fashion a crowbar . . . look for a bed frame.”

  “On it.”

  My punching a hole in the door, even if I permanently destroyed my hands, was no longer an option. It was a necessity. Fucktard. I stepped back and prayed to my favorite quarterback, Brett Favre . . . Minutes left in the game and a Hail Mary from Jesus was all I needed. It was now or never. With strength I didn’t know I possessed, I slammed the sword through the door, breaking most of my fingers, the sword, and thankfully the door. There was a hole just large enough for Mariah’s arm. She’d be working blind, but it was as good as it was going to get.

  “Crawl space open,” Candace yelled. “It’s tight.”

  “I’ll go,” Boo said.

  “Seven minutes,” Hugh said, taking a quick break from his crooning.

  “Fuck,” Mitch muttered. “Mariah, status on the door.”

  “Got two,” she grunted. “Feels like three more.”

  “Candace,” he shouted. “Crawl space?”

  “Boo’s in. Unsure of status.”

  I felt helpless standing there and watching my hands swell. There was no way in hell I was going to complain, but I wanted to sob. I looked at Mitch and knew that I loved that man more than I loved my own life. I just hoped I would still have a life to love him with . . .

  “No go,” Coco said in a furious tone. “If we cut, we’re dead.”

  “Agreed,” Mitch ground out. “Abandon. Help the others. Mariah?”

  “One more,” she gasped.

  “Five minutes,” Hugh called out. The singing had stopped.

  “Got it,” Mariah shouted.

  “Out,” Mitch ordered. “Everybody out. Now.”

  Panic ensued as everyone made a run for the door. Mitch grabbed me and hauled me out.

  “Gather at the van,” Candace yelled. “Head count. Now.”

  She rattled off names as we came into view. “Mitch, Kristy, Dan, Dave, Kim, Hugh, Mariah, Coco, Edith . . . We good?”

  “Oh my God,” Mariah shrieked. “Where’s Boo?”

  “Fuck.” Mitch took off at a run, followed by Candace, Edith, and Coco.

  Kim held Mariah back. “Too many will make it dangerous.” “Back up and get down,” Dan said, moving us farther out.

  All eyes were glued to the front door of the cabin.

  “Two minutes,” Hugh whispered.

  “She can’t die.” Mariah grabbed my shoulders. “She’s all I’ve got.”

  “Mitch will save her,” I promised. If I said it, it would be true. It had to be true. There were no other options.

  “One minute.”

  I began to count backwards from sixty, willing them with every fiber of my being to come out . . . but they never did.

  The cabin blew with a thunderous noise and a blinding explosion. The sedan went up with the cabin and I realized that was the way they’d wanted it . . . no trace. It was a sight that would be burned into my mind for the rest of my days. The Baldies covered us with their bodies so we weren’t hit with debris, but the heat of the roaring blaze and the smell of burning wood, charred metal, and gasoline were inescapable.

  Mariah’s scream of anguish sounded inhuman. It ripped me straight to my soul. It was only matched by the equally horrific sounds coming from my own mouth. Forgetting my balloon-size hands, I took Mariah into my arms and rocked her back and forth. It was not supposed to end this way. I was supposed to get the guy and have my foul-mouthed surrogate dyke grandmas at my wedding. Boo, Mariah, Kim, Candace, and Rena were going to be my bridesmaids and Hugh was supposed to provide the music.

  Amongst the debris on the ground, I spotted Boo’s worn and coverless Bigfoot bible. The thought of never seeing her sweet little face again brought on a fresh wave of sobbing.

  “What in the fuck is going on here?”

  Holy shit, did people come back as ghosts that quick? “You’re dead,” I stammered.

  “Interesting,” the ghost of Coco said, stretching her bony arms over her head and bringing them down only to swat me in the back of the head.

  “Ouch.”

  “Did
that bitch slap feel like a dead person to you?” She grinned.

  “Not really,” I said, hoping I hadn’t finally jumped off the crazy cliff and landed in Hallucinationville.

  “We’re not dead, you asshat.”

  “But . . .” I was still in shock.

  “We got out through the crawl space,” she informed us.

  “But it was small,” Mariah whispered, clearly having the same doubts as to the corporality of Coco that I was having.

  “Oh, please,” she cackled. “I crawled through shitholes full of rats and body parts. That was nothing.”

  I stood up on shaky legs and was whipped off my feet by a dirty and very alive Mitch. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tighter than I’d ever held anything. “I love you,” I gasped, laughing and crying at the same time. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too, baby. Always.”

  A filthy and disheveled Candace gently handed a trembling Boo to her sister. Mariah took her in her arms and held her while they both cried.

  “We have to go,” Candace said.

  Mitch groaned and ran his hands through his hair. He grabbed me by the shoulders and stared right through me and straight to my heart. “I will come back to you. I will always come back to you. Promise me you’ll wait . . . promise me.”

  “I promise.” Tears were streaming down my face. The last thing in the world I wanted was for him to leave, but it’s what he did and he was good, so very good. I was a big girl and loved him in a way I couldn’t fully comprehend yet. He was so strong for me . . . I could be the same for him.

  “Mitch,” I said, “go get those slimy assmonkeys.”

  His grin almost set me on my ass and I knew I had done the right thing.

  “Go, go, go,” Candace yelled to Mitch and the Baldies. “Backup is on the way. Edith, Coco, get everyone to the hospital, and Hugh . . . give the feds your phone. It will save a lot of time.” She winked at him and took off after her partners and her brother, but not before she gave Coco and Edith a military salute.

  “You didn’t give Stuey your phone?” Mariah asked, fully impressed.

  “I have three.” Hugh grinned. “He only asked for one.”

  “Dear God,” Kim worried. “Do you think they’ll find them?”

  “Oh, there’s no doubt about that,” Edith smirked.

  “I have a feeling they’ll find them hanging out just about two hundred feet or so into the woods,” Coco added knowingly.

  And that’s exactly what happened.

  Epilogue

  The library smelled the same and looked the same. It hadn’t changed at all . . . but I had. It seemed a million years had passed since the last time I’d been here.

  Being back in Minneapolis was wonderful, but I missed my crew . . . even the old dykes. Who, much to everyone’s surprise except mine, were doing an amazing job running the knitting shop. The classes I insisted on their teaching at the shelter were a huge hit too. They hadn’t insulted one person, although it was rumored they were giving free lessons in profanity along with sweater making.

  Not one to welsh on a deal with God, I called Tandy McOath and apologized, which led to her apology, which led to a really awkward lunch at Chinese Farts. Mrs. Wang surprised us with a creamy cheesy fried rice topped with Tater Tots and sweet-and-sour sauce. Since hurling on the table was out of the realm of possibility, we both had to taste it and swallow it. Once Mrs. Wang’s back was turned, we hightailed it to the bathroom and vomited in adjacent stalls. It was a bonding experience that led me to ask her to give free sewing lessons down at the shelter. Unfortunately I gave her my cell number too and she called me at least seven times a day. Thank the sweet baby Jesus for caller ID.

  I glanced up at the clock on the wall. Crap, I was early. I wandered around the library and considered skimming a few books, but with a cast on one arm and splints on most of my fingers, I decided against it. Three broken fingers on my left hand and four fingers on my right plus a broken left wrist made doing everyday things a bit difficult.

  “You’re early,” came a loud and discombobulated voice through the stacks.

  “Shit.” I grabbed the side of a shelf and slapped my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t scream. Pain burst through both of my hands and I wanted to deck Mariah. “Don’t do that,” I hissed.

  “Dude,” she laughed, coming around the corner, “you need to relax. I didn’t know if you would come.”

  “Of course I came. Why wouldn’t I come?”

  “So you’re a believer?” She raised her eyebrow and smirked.

  “I wouldn’t go that far . . . but let’s just say I’m open to possibilities.” I grinned and ran my splints through her hot pink hair. “Pretty.”

  “Yep. I know you had something to do with it.”

  “With what?” I looked up at the ceiling. I was the suckiest liar ever and I knew where this was going.

  “My job at the salon. My becoming Steve and Steve’s new project. The fact that I have insurance now . . .”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I felt the stupid telltale heat creep up my neck. I wondered if there were online classes on lying . . .

  “You just can’t stop yourself.” She narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

  I wanted to deny it. I even started to . . . but I couldn’t. She was right: for better or worse, I needed to fix people’s lives. It made me happy.

  “You changed my life,” she said quietly. “I’m better because of you.”

  “Nope,” I disagreed. “You’re a better you because of you. I just helped a little.”

  She considered me for a few moments. “You’re such a dork,” she giggled.

  “Yep, and you’re an assmonkey,” I countered. “You ready to go in?”

  “I am if you are.”

  Not only had the Steves been blown away by Mariah’s natural talent, they adored her and treated her and Boo like the daughters they’d always wanted. Boo was going to cosmetology school on the Steves’ dime and Mariah was getting her formal training from the dynamic gay duo themselves. Mariah had used the money from Stuey’s wallet to get her and her sister an apartment in a safer area. She’d come to me for approval and I’d given it on the condition that this would be the end to her life of crime. She told me she’d try . . . Boo had confided in me that Mariah had gone for a consultation about her deviated septum, now that she had insurance, and I cried. Hard.

  I glanced up and saw my best friend and the love of her life heading my way. “Why are you here?” I laughed as Rena dragged Jack through the library toward the back meeting room.

  “I hear I’m famous for writing that big fat fucking pile of shit, Pirate Dave and His Randy Adventures. I’ve come to sign autographs,” she informed me with a twinkle in her eye.

  “Oh my God, Rena. They think it’s true. Well, at least that it has a subtext that’s true. Don’t be mean,” I begged.

  “Kristy.” She rolled her eyes. “First of all, I’m not mean and secondly maybe it is all true . . .” She waggled her eyebrows, grabbed a pained-looking Jack, and flounced into the room.

  Rena and Jack were doing great . . . better than great. Turned out he used the bonus money from the mayor for decking my old beau, Ethan/Nathan, to buy Rena an engagement ring. They were getting married next spring and I was going to be her maid of honor. Aunt Moon-Unit had gotten her minister’s license over the Internet and was going to officiate. Rena’s mom had blown a gasket and threatened Moon-Unit with sure death if she brought up trolls or aliens during the ceremony.

  Speaking of . . . Moon-Unit had gone to Wisconsin to meditate before we got back from Duluth. Apparently there was a large gathering of shape-shifting tree sprites meeting there.

  “Swamp-ass,” Edith greeted me as I made my way toward the front of the room.

  “Dyke.” I nodded and flipped her off. We’d had our first insult session two days earlier. Her and Coco versus Rena, Mariah, and me. I’d learned more swearwords in tw
o hours than I ever would need to know in one lifetime. We had to call it a draw. Between Rena’s mouth and Mariah’s, we held our own against the foul-mouthed decorated war veterans.

  I glanced around and saw Kim and Hugh flirting up a storm with each other. They were going to open up their own karaoke restaurant and bar and call it Sing for Your Supper. Hugh would be the MC and main singer seven nights a week.

  Everybody was getting their happy endings except for me . . . but that wasn’t exactly true. I didn’t have the fifty thousand for the shelter, but I was working hard on raising enough to keep us afloat into the next year. And even though I hadn’t seen or heard from Mitch, I knew he loved me and would be back when he could. I just missed him so much I ached.

  “Ladies and gentlemen and lesbos,” Kim said, clearing her throat. “I have some exciting news. Our group, along with several undercover federal agents, has been publicly recognized for bringing down one of the largest drug rings in the country!”

  The crowd went nuts and Hugh broke into one of the most alarming Miley Cyrus concerts I’d ever heard.

  “Everybody, quiet down,” she bellowed, grinning from ear to ear. “There will be a formal presentation at the end of the meeting! Also, our very own Moon-Unit is back and she has some incredible news!”

  Moon-Unit made a spectacular entrance from the back of the room. Her hair was lime green and she wore a silver jumpsuit. I choked on my own spit trying to hold back a scream. I glanced over at Mariah, who gave me the thumbs-up sign. I sternly reminded myself never to let Mariah touch my hair. Ever.

  “As many of you know, I have succeeded in killing the chi and I have communed with the aliens. They come in peace and want to mate with us, but that’s not what I’m here to discuss.”

  I snuck a quick peek at Rena and Jack. They were pale and looked nauseous. Possibly a bit of regret at having asked Moon-Unit to officiate at their wedding?

  “Kristy, where are you?” Moon-Unit shouted.

  “Here.” I stood up in fear and waited for the rest of the story. I’d missed the fact that she was carrying a large pillowcase with her. I suppose her outfit had blinded me to everything else.