by Ace Collins
“I’m Meg Richards,” she announced to a heavy, balding man behind the counter as she entered the store. “Someone here just called me about some clothes that I had forgotten to pick up.”
“Yeah, that was me who called. Let me get ’em.” He turned and ambled back to a clothes rack and began to search. As he did, Meg picked up a brochure from a stack on the counter and, for lack of a better way to kill the time, began to study the different services that Comet now offered. Who knew that a cleaners would have a Facebook page? And what did a small town cleaner have to tweet about? As she mulled over those questions, she was vaguely aware of the door opening behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a young high school girl come from the back of the shop in order to wait on the new customer.
“Jimbo,” the girl said in a dreamy, lighter-than-air voice. “Love your new wheels. When you gonna take me for a ride?” The way the girl emphasized that last part of the sentence made Meg wonder just what the word “ride” meant.
“Some day, baby,” came the young man’s response.
That voice! Meg knew that voice! Looking into a counter mirror, her eyes flashed past her own reflection and to the image of the high school student. Even though she’d only seen him twice in person, she immediately recognized the other reflection as that of Jim Thomas. This was the closest she’d ever been to the kid who killed her husband since that night she’d left the ER after seeing her husband’s mangled and burned body.
“You here for something special?” the girl asked.
“My old man’s cleaning. Hope you know where it is because I’m in a hurry. So get moving!”
Taking the order in stride, the girl quickly disappeared through the door to the back of the shop.
Left alone in the room with Jim Thomas, Meg’s knees grew immediately weak, her stomach began to churn, and boiling blood rushed through her veins. In the quiet room, she was fully aware of the loud pounding coming from her chest. Surely, he must hear it, too. But he said nothing, apparently unaware of her wildly beating heart, much less her presence. Too scared to look at him, she turned her eyes back to the brochure, pretending to study it.
With a whoosh, the door to the back once again opened and the bald man reappeared, this time carrying a blue, pinstriped suit covered by a clear plastic bag embossed with Comet’s logo.
“Here we go,” he said. “One suit. That’ll be 3.75.”
As Meg once again looked up, Thomas’s eyes met hers in the mirror. He obviously didn’t know who she was. Still, he did stare at her—an intent, unembarrassed stare. It only took her a few seconds to realize he was actually sizing her up! Feeling uncomfortable under his gaze, Meg glanced back down, fumbled with the latch on her purse, and finally pulled out a ten-dollar bill. Handing it to the clerk, she grabbed the suit off the counter.
“Just a second and I’ll have your change,” the man said. Ambling slowly to the cash register, he greeted the boy in the letter jacket. “Tell you what, Jim. That basket you made the other night to win the game against Centerville, I never saw anything like it.”
“Well, somebody had to do it, Mr. Weaver,” the boy answered cockily.
“Yeah, but nobody could but you!”
A nervous Meg watched the man lethargically open the cash register and deposit the money. Then, before he could get her change, the phone rang.
“Comet Cleaners?” The owner announced. The shop’s owner waited for a moment before explaining, “That’s a big order. It might take a couple of days to clean eighty band uniforms.”
As the bald man and the potential customer quibbled on time and price, Thomas continued to leer at Meg, and for lack of anything better to do, she continued to study the brochure she had picked up a few minutes before. Finally, when the call ended, the bald man slowly counted out the money and walked back to where Meg anxiously stood.
“Six and a quarter,” he explained, handing her the change. “And we appreciate it.”
“Just a minute, Jim,” the man stated, turning to his other customer. “I’ll see what’s taking Candy so long.” The man disappeared into the back room, leaving Meg alone with the boy.
Picking up the suit, Meg tried to move quickly past Thomas and out the door. But in haste to exit, the now panicky Meg, tripped over a cardboard display and fell against the boy’s arm. Pushing herself off, she dropped her cleaning on the floor. As she picked it up, the boy laughed, “What’s the rush, sweetheart?” Noting the scrubs and her hospital ID he added, “You in a hurry to give somebody mouth-to-mouth?”
Straightening herself, Meg ignored the kid’s smart remarks, took a deep breath, and walked toward the exit. Grabbing the handle, she started to open it but stopped when she saw his reflection in the glass. He was staring at her legs, a grin spread from ear to ear, so he obviously liked what he saw. Now she felt like little more than a piece of meat.
Turning back to face his grinning face she asked, “You don’t know who I am, do you?”
“No, but I’d sure like to!” came the boy’s cool retort. “That is, if you’re game? I’ve always thought older woman were hot, and they like me, too.”
A rage deeper than the one she had experienced the night she had spied on him from her car bubbled up in her gut. If she had had a gun, Meg knew that she would have shot him. He was even worse than she imagined. He was coarse, crude, and disgusting. What was most disturbing was that no one else seemed to notice these traits, or if they did, they overlooked them. Certainly, the hero-worshiping clerk or the gum-chewing bimbo who waited on him didn’t see Jim Thomas for what he really was. But Meg did.
Her eyes glaring, her jaw set, she stood up to her full five feet two inches and with a voice so strong that it even surprised her, she replied. “My name is Meg Richards. My husband, Steve, was the man you killed in that car wreck a few weeks ago. Are you sure you want to know me?”
The boy’s cocky smile quickly evaporated. Seconds later the color drained from his face and his jaw had grown slack. Meg allowed the introduction to hover in the air for only seconds before adding, “You take a good look at me. You remember what I look like. Because I’m going to get on a witness stand in a courtroom in a little more than a month and I’m going to put you away. But that’s not all.”
Meg formed her free hand into a fist and added, “When they let you out of jail I’m going to be at the gate waiting. Because when the state’s satisfied that it got its due, I’m going to begin to exact mine. I’m going to be your shadow. You’re going to see me on every corner and in your every dream. I’m going to haunt you for as long as you live. And then when you die, I’m going to meet you in hell!”
Meg almost couldn’t believe what she had just said. More than that, she couldn’t believe how good it felt to say it. She lingered a moment, a vicious smile now etched on her face, a frightening wrath burning in her eyes, watching as the boy seemed to melt in front of her. His lips now pale and just barely open, visibly trembled, and his hands alternately reached in and out of his letter jacket’s pockets. He was almost too shocked to breathe and probably too stiff to walk.
Satisfied she had made her point, Meg turned, flung the door open, and hopped into her car. Just before she pulled off, she stared back at the shop and caught Thomas in her line of sight one more time. As her eyes met his, he looked down. She had won round one. Round two would be fought in a courtroom and she now figured that she could win that one, too.
29
AS JIM THOMAS’S EYES FOLLOWED THE MUSTANG DOWN THE STREET, Candy reappeared at the counter with Judge Thomas’s clothes. Her lighter-than-air voice announced, “It’s 45.32.”
The youth didn’t turn around, much less acknowledge the girl’s pronouncement. Frozen in place, his mind was whirling. So that was the widow! Who knew she looked like a fashion model? Until a few moments ago, he’d figured her as just another washed-out relic for another age. And who knew she had that kind of fire? She went after him with more energy than any defender he’d ever met on the court or
the gridiron.
“What’s wrong, Jim?” Candy questioned as she came up beside him and glanced in the direction he was looking.
Turning away from the window, Thomas swallowed hard. “What do you mean?”
“You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“No, not a ghost,” he murmured, almost under his breath. Then, once again looking back in the direction in which Meg had driven off, he shook his head. “But maybe I just met the devil.”
“What?” She all but laughed.
Turning, Jim grabbed the girl’s shoulders and looked her straight in the face. “You know that woman that was in here?”
“I don’t know her,” she answered. “I guess I might have seen her before, but I don’t know her name.” Candy grinned, “Jim, she’s too old for you.”
“It’s not that,” he said dropping his hands and walking back to the counter, “not that at all.” Pushing his fists into his letter jacket, he tilted his head to the side. What were the odds of his walking in when she’d had been here? And why had he stupidly said anything?
“You look really weird,” Candy noted as she strolled to the other side of the counter. “Was that woman kind of sketchy or something?”
His eyes once more caught hers. “You know the guy that died in the accident?”
“You mean that night after the party by the lake?”
“What other night would I mean?” he barked.
“Hey, I’m not stupid,” she said, her eyes drifting down to the countertop, “just wanted to make sure we were on the same page. Sure, I remember the night. How could I forget it? Watching that other guy burn was not something I can erase, if you know what I mean? You were so out of it you don’t remember anything about that night. At least that’s what you’ve claimed. Is that true?”
He nodded. “Yeah, it’s true. That night’s a blank for me. Anyway, that guy we hit, well, that was his wife.”
“Hey,” she shot back, “you were driving, so I had nothing to do with hitting him.” After fully justifying her innocence, she folded her arms across her chest and whispered, “Wow, bet she’s hurting.”
“More than hurting,” he explained, “she’s creepy! She wants a piece of me.”
Candy looked back to her friend, “You’re not scared of her are you? After all, your dad can fix anything.”
Jim nodded as he turned back toward the window. His dad could probably keep him out of jail. He’d already bought him a new car. But there was still something about that woman that spooked him. He’d never felt fury like that. Her words had scorched him like a flamethrower. He reached back, grabbed the cleaning, and strolled toward the door. The girl’s voice attempted to stop him just as he reached the exit.
“What about the bill?”
Without looking back, Jim answered, “Put it on my dad’s account.”
Stepping out into the street, he glanced both ways. There were no yellow Mustangs and there was no woman with fire in her eyes. Still, he didn’t feel safe. Rushing to his car, he jumped in and drove straight home.
30
MEG HAD AVOIDED HER MOTHER SINCE THE FACE-TO-FACE JUST DAYS AFTER the funeral. Yes, she had talked with her on the phone, but the simple explanation of her wanting to be alone had surprisingly kept Barbara from her door. So she was shocked when that Thursday evening knock on the door came from her mother’s hand.
“What are you doing here?” Meg asked in a harsh tone, as she watched her mother push by her.
Unbuttoning her coat and tossing it on the chair, Barbara had a strange look in her eye as she studied her daughter.
“What’s this all about, Mom? I thought you understood I wanted to be alone. Thought we agreed that I’d come to your place when I was ready to move on.”
“Heather told me,” Barbara answered, opening her arms as if she wanted a hug.
Crossing her arms, Meg asked accusingly, “Told you what?”
“About the baby.” Her mouth was now framed with a huge smile.
Why didn’t Heather keep her mouth closed? Why did she have to blab that information to, of all people, her mother? This was news that should have never seen the light of day.
“This has to be one of the greatest blessings in the world,” Barbara continued. “Imagine the comfort it must be to know a part of Steve will still be with you. God is good!”
Shaking her head, Meg answered, “I wouldn’t call it a blessing and let’s not even go to that part of about God.”
“What do you mean? Every child in a blessing.”
“Sit down, Mom. I’ve got something to tell you.”
Meg moved past her mother and took a seat in Steve’s recliner. Barbara found a spot on the couch. For a few seconds, Meg stared at her mother trying to figure out how to give her the news about the choice she’d made. Try as she could she simply couldn’t find the words.
“Mom, I don’t want this child.”
“I can understand that, but in time, when you have come to deal with what happened, you will treasure this gift. I mean, there is nothing like a child. You and your sister have meant so much to my life. Even more with your father gone.”
As Meg watched her mother, sitting there with her hands in her lap, a compassionate look on her face, and obvious hope in her heart, she wanted to run. Yet she couldn’t. Monday was just three days away and the woman had to know what was going to happen.
“Mom, I’m terminating this pregnancy.”
“What?”
“I’m having an abortion.”
“You can’t.”
“Actually, I can and I will.”
“But,” Barbara struggled for words, “it isn’t right. This goes against everything I’ve taught you. And what about Steve’s parents? They deserve a grandchild from their only son.”
“It is not about Steve’s parents,” Meg gently cut in. “It is about me. It is about what I want and what I can live with. And I can’t live with carrying a baby much less dealing with Steve’s child. It would be too painful.”
“I-I-I just can’t believe that any daughter of mine would consider something like this.”
Meg knew exactly what the “this” was and she was ready with a response that would put her mother in her place. Though not embracing the rage she had hurled at Thomas, her tone still displayed a calm but derisive fury, “Oh, I’ll bet you that Terri wouldn’t think twice before doing it. She’s probably had one or two.”
Meg grinned as she watched her mother wilt under the spot-on observation.
“All right,” Barbara looked down at her lap as she spoke, “you may be right. But the daughter I was talking about was you. You’ll regret this decision, Meg. Oh, I just know you will.”
“Listen, Mom.” Meg’s voice showed little patience. “If you’re going to start this, then leave now. You’re not welcome here or in my life. You support me or you get out.”
“I just can’t let you do this,” Barbara answered mournfully.
“You can’t stop me.”
“You’re right,” Barbara admitted. “I can’t stop you the way I did when you were sixteen and you wanted to go on that overnight trip with those kids from school. You were fit to be tied that I was such a prude to not let you go that time. But when those kids got arrested and Julie turned up pregnant just a few weeks later, well, you—you—you had to admit that I was right. And I’m just as sure about this.”
“Mother,” Meg snapped. “Maybe you were right then. But even if you had let me go, I wouldn’t have gotten into any trouble.” Then, seizing on something her mother had just mentioned, she continued. “You know, Mom. I’ll bet you that if Julie had had an abortion rather than having that kid, she’d be alive today.”
Julie Evans’s life was indeed tragic. She’d been so young, so misguided. At one time, she had been an honor student with a future. Then next, a dropout, working in a cheap diner, caring for a child she hadn’t wanted and didn’t need. Meg had visited her a few times and had never seen a person so unhappy. Then one
night, Julie had been walking to the ratty old apartment she and the baby had called home, and someone, no one knew who, had raped and killed her. She had only been seventeen. Now Julie’s tragic ending was the trump card Meg needed to put her mother in her place.
“Meg,” Barbara quietly argued. “Julie’s situation was very much different from yours. She didn’t have anyone who really cared about her. You do. I’ll help you. You know that. It can bring us closer together. It will be good for both us and our relationship.”
Meg had the upper hand and she realized it. Quickly grabbing her chance, once and for all, to shut her mother up, she cruelly lashed out. “If it hadn’t been for people like you—folks from our church—Julie would have had an abortion. She wanted one, but the guilt you and your friends laid at her feet got to her. There’s no telling where she would be today if you all had allowed her to do what she wanted.”
She took a deep breath then spat out, “Mom, Julie didn’t want that kid, she wanted a chance to be a kid. And look, her kid is being raised in the filth of her alcoholic parents’ home. What chance has that kid got?”
“We couldn’t have predicted that,” Barbara quietly said. “We had no idea her baby would end up back with her parents. That was and continues to be sad. But I’m praying for them.”
“Well, Mom, you can pray all you want to, but let me assure you, Julie and I have something in common. I don’t want this kid either. I want to feel good again. Today I’ve thrown up six times. I’m sick of that and I’m sick of being pregnant. I don’t need a child to remind me for the rest of my life of something I loved and lost. There is nothing, not even this baby, that will bring Steve back. And I’m going in on Monday and having an abortion and that is it. There’s nothing that you or anyone else in this world can do.”
