Fury

by Fisher Amelie

  Around ten, they called all the servers onto the bar top by blaring a siren sound throughout the whole burger joint. I couldn’t help but cringe for Finley when she rolled her eyes and climbed on top of the bar with all the other girls. She was on the far end, closest to me, and when “Cotton-Eyed Joe” began to play they all wrapped their hands around one another’s backs and line danced. Finley’s face looked tired and she wore a forced smile. She hated it and that made me smirk.

  She noticed me and smiled genuinely before shaking her head at me. Her dance moves looked rehearsed but sufficient. When the song was over, I stood up and offered her my hand to help her down.

  “You looked really into it,” I teased her.

  “See that girl over there?” she asked, pointing to another server. A girl, I’d noticed, who really enjoyed the line dance.

  “Yeah?” I answered, curious where she was going with her question.

  “Well, see, she has thirty-seven pieces of flair.”

  I laughed. I mock examined her. “And it looks like you’re only wearing fifteen, Fin.”

  “The thing is, Bob, it’s not that I’m lazy, it’s that I just don’t care.”

  “You’re funny.”

  “Yeah, yeah, sit down, will ya? Wanna piece of cake, Milton?”

  “Nah, the ratio of people to cake is too big.”

  She smiled. “All right, fine. I’m gonna clean up then. My shift is done. They cut me early.”

  “Cool,” I said, then thought of something. “Wait.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Those guys earlier. One of them dropped something on the floor. What was it?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, that. Yeah, he elbowed a sugar packet onto the floor and told me I’d dropped my name tag.”

  “Clever,” I said, almost laughing.

  “They’ve got a new one every week.”

  Finley tossed her apron onto a pile to be laundered, I assumed, then washed her hands for what seemed like the thousandth time that night.

  That night’s bartender came up to me just then. “You goin’ out with Finley Dyer now? She’s got issues, you know. I tried it out with her once and she wanted nothin’ to do with me.”

  I eyed him. “And that’s why she has issues?” I asked. “Because she wouldn’t go out with you?”

  “Nah, man, I just heard some stuff. So, you goin’ out with her or what?” he asked, more curious than casual conversation merited. It was obvious he was still into her.

  “No, we’re just friends.”

  “Cool,” he said, seemingly satisfied. He started to walk away but stopped and turned back around. “You should be careful around her, though. Remember what I said, she’s got issues, man.”

  I snorted. “Not any more than I do.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, see you ’round,” I said, standing.

  “Later.”

  I leaned against the edge of the booth to wait for her. Finley came around the office corner removing all her pencils and her hair came tumbling down her back. She tossed them all in her bag on the shelf then swung the strap over her head and across her torso, untucking her hair that’d caught in the strap.

  She sighed, threading her hands through her hair. “It’s been a long night,” she admitted, looking sleepy.

  “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

  “No, my car’s at Sykes remember?”

  “No way. I can tell you’re exhausted. I’ll just pick you up tomorrow morning and take you then.”

  “Fine,” she conceded.

  But life rarely makes it easy for you, because my truck had other ideas.

  The key turned and the truck began to rumble but died outright. I tried it multiple times but it wouldn’t start.

  My hands fell to the seat in resignation. I turned to Finley. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Finley.”

  She laughed. “Nah, it’s fine. It happens. What do you think is wrong with it, though?”

  “Pretty sure it’s just the battery.”

  “Okay, we’ll ask somebody for a ride.”

  We got out and shut our doors. I felt so bad for keeping her up because of my piece-of-shit truck. I couldn’t stop screwing up her life.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, studying me when I met her side.

  “I just feel like you’ve helped me out so much but I can’t seem to return the favors. Small, though, they may be.”

  “Life is strange like that, Ethan. There are going to be times where you’re wondering what the hell is going on with yourself, when you begin to question your world. You’ll be lost as shit but inexplicably someone finds you the moment you’re ready to jump from the ledge and helps you stand back up. Holly Raye did that for me once, and now it seems it is my destiny to help you. There are no debts earned or owed when life is cruel to you like that. It’s my duty as a friend first but also as a human to lift those who need lifting, to lift you.”

  “That’s so comforting to think about, Fin. Not everyone thinks the way you do.”

  We began to walk back toward Buffalo’s.

  “Just because they don’t doesn’t mean they shouldn’t. Besides, people will surprise you sometimes. All we need is for someone to shine by example. People inevitably gravitate towards the good when the good can’t be helped but to overshine the awful. It’s human nature.”

  “Many would disagree with you.”

  “Are one of these many you?” she asked.

  “No,” I answered, earning me a glorious smile.

  “We’re bombarded with so much evil in this world on a twenty-four-hour basis that it’s hard to believe we’re capable of anything but the worst. But all it takes is the conscious decision of one. One person can move mountains.”

  “What if they fail?” I asked.

  She eyed me. “Dig yourself out and move on to the next. Your hands may bleed, but they’ll be made all the stronger for the effort. Failures and trials are designed to make you that much more resilient. They callus the weak parts of you and leave the strong.”

  I nodded my acceptance and we kept walking. A loud pickup truck whipped around the corner. My arm shot out to keep Finley from moving any farther. The truck came to an abrupt stop and obnoxious music came spilling out of the windows as they rolled them down. It was the teenage boys from earlier.

  “Oh jeez,” Finley said under her breath.

  “Hey, Finley. What’s up?” the driver asked, eyeing me up and down.

  “Hey, Patrick,” Finley answered. She gestured toward me. “Ethan’s truck’s battery died.”

  “You need a jump?” he asked.

  Finley looked at me for an answer. “Thanks, yeah, that’d be cool,” I told him.

  Patrick drove his truck and parked a few feet from the front of mine, and Finley and I walked back to meet him. There was a guy in the passenger seat and two in the bed of the truck but they stayed put, staring at their phones. Patrick got out and opened his hood while I fished behind the bench for my cables. After we got everything hooked, I attempted the engine but it didn’t even turn over once. We decided to let the cables stay connected for a while before trying again.

  “So, uh, you guys are together or something?” he asked after a few moments.

  What in the world is up with that question tonight?

  Finley giggled. “No,” she offered, looking at me and smiling. “Ethan and I are very good friends, though.” She ran her palm down my arm and squeezed when she reached my fingers before letting her hand drop back down. I nearly closed my eyes at the relief her brief touch gave me. Hearing Finley admit that we were friends out loud after our discussion at the lake was yet another balm to my soul.

  Patrick eyed me, sabotaging the reprieve her fingers gave me.

  “Oh,” he responded, as if she meant anything other than its true meaning.

  “Finley’s not that kind of girl,” I defended, narrowing my eyes at him. My chest began to burn in anger for her.

  Patrick leaned against the
side of his truck, looking out into the field behind the restaurant. A small smile laid across his face. I could already tell Patrick was the kind of guy who needed a good ass-kicking to wipe out that annoying cockiness most guys his age developed. Now, I know I wasn’t much older than him but, to be honest with you, I’d lived a pretty rough life. Maturity came at thirteen and slammed into me with such ferocity it threw me across the field called experience at astonishing speed. I came up on the other side never really having had the opportunity to revel in anything young. At times, I felt like I was born old.

  Patrick stared at me hard. “I see.”

  I was so close to ripping off the cables and telling him he was no longer needed but Finley looked so tired, I couldn’t do that to her. Instead, I gritted my teeth and sidled closer to her.

  I tried the engine again but to no avail then again with Patrick revving his engine, but nothing.

  “I think I just need a new battery altogether,” I said with a sigh, running my hands through my hair. “I’m so sorry, Fin.”

  She yawned then laughed. “It’s okay. What do we need to do?” she asked, standing between the driver’s side door and me, her arm resting on the window.

  “I think we’ll need to hitch a ride with dumbass over there.”

  Finley laughed under her breath then sighed. “All right.”

  “I’ll have him drop you off at your car first, okay?”

  “No,” she corrected quickly. “No, I think it’ll be better if I go with you.”

  “Finley, you don’t have to come with me. I promise not to drink anything tonight.”

  She smiled crookedly. “It’s not that. It’s—”

  “What?” I asked, furrowing my brows.

  “I-I just don’t want to go home to an empty apartment.”

  I studied her, finally deciding she was being serious. “Okay.”

  Patrick dropped us off at O’Shaughnessy’s, our local auto parts store. It was closed but Harv, who owned the store, lived above the shop and wouldn’t mind opening up to sell us a battery. It was also nice because it was only seven blocks away from Sykes where Finley was parked.

  “Thanks for the ride, Patrick!” Finley shouted as I lifted her from the bed of his truck.

  Patrick leaned over his friend to talk to her out the passenger side window. “Uh, I can take you back if you want.”

  “No, thank you so much, though. I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than we already have. My car’s just down the road a spell. We’ll walk there and I’ll take him back to Buffalo’s myself.”

  “Oh, okay,” he said, looking defeated.

  “Thanks again. Thanks, guys!” she shouted to the others.

  We turned around and she waved one last time as we walked up the side stairs to Harv’s apartment.

  I opened the screen door and it creaked loudly, then I knocked twice. Finley stood one step below me, one booted foot resting on the deck where I stood. Harv didn’t come to the door, though. He wasn’t there. Or he was asleep and couldn’t hear us.

  “Are you kidding me?” I asked, my eyes raised toward the night sky.

  Finley laughed and started heading down the stairs.

  “Oh, well, let’s go get the love bug. We can come back and try again.”

  “Okay,” I answered, trudging down the steps she’d just hopped down.

  We’d just started out toward Sykes when her cell rang.

  “Hey, buttercup,” she answered with a smile. It’s Holly, she mouthed and I nodded. “I’m not at home yet. Ethan’s truck battery died and I’m helping out.” She listened then sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.” She hung up.

  “She doesn’t like you hanging with me,” I said.

  “Nah, she just checks up on me whenever I have to leave work late,” she evaded.

  I smiled at her to which she smiled as well but turned her head toward the sidewalk.

  “She hates me,” I insisted.

  “No!” she denied. “She … Well, she just doesn’t trust you.”

  “Ah, I see. Well, even if I think she’s wrong,” I said, elbowing her playfully. “I like that she cares enough about you to worry.”

  “She’s lovely, my Holly. I humor her because she is a bit of a worrywart, though. I make it a point to call her when I come home late from work. It scares her otherwise.”

  “You’re a good girl, Finley,” I told her, meaning it.

  Hearing the words “good girl” tumble from my own lips triggered a memory of my mom, making my chest ache so deep I could decipher each individual cell that made up my broken heart. Each one throbbed painfully. My hand went to my chest and my steps faltered enough that Finley felt the need to reach for my arm.

  “You okay?” she asked, concern in her eyes.

  My mind went spinning back in time.

  “Do you have your backpack, Ethan?” my mom asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” a small voice answered back.

  We walked down the steps of our front porch hand in hand. My dad was standing by his truck loading some sort of tool into the bed.

  “We’re headed off to school, Daddy,” my mom spoke to alert him to our presence and to set the tone of what she expected from him.

  “Well,” my dad said kindly, picking me up and kissing my cheek. “Be a good boy, son. Listen to your teachers. Make good decisions today. Pray to God for peace during your test today.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, beaming at him.

  He sat me down and ruffled my black hair. My mom kept it short then.

  “Oh,” my mom playfully complained, “I just combed his hair, babe.”

  “Excuse me,” my dad responded sarcastically, grabbing my mom by the waist and kissing her on the mouth.

  I stuck my tongue out and wrinkled my nose in disgust but deep inside, I secretly loved watching them love one another. It gave me happiness, though I didn’t recognize it as so then. I just knew it made me feel happy inside.

  My dad let her go, smoothing her hair down on both sides of her head and kissing her forehead.

  He turned to me then, resting his hand on top of my head. “Love you, Ethan.”

  “Love you too, Daddy.”

  “See you after school, son.” He turned to my mom. “Love you too, good girl.”

  “Love you too.”

  My mom and I walked away toward the end of our lane to wait for our bus. On our way there, I asked her why my dad called her a good girl.

  My mom smiled to herself then said, “Does it feel silly to hear him call me that?”

  I nodded.

  “When your daddy and I first met, he told me he was just a good guy lookin’ for a good girl.” She smiled at the memory. “We got to datin’ for a little bit and one day he told me he’d found her in me, that he thought I was his good girl.”

  “And will I grow up and get a good girl too?” I asked her.

  “Yes, you will, Ethan,” she answered without hesitation. She stopped me in the lane and held my chin. “You deserve nothing but goodness.” She leaned down on her ankles, at eye level. “Good girls are hard to come by, but I think God’s got one all lined up for you already. Just keep an eye out for her, right? Treat all girls with kindness, Ethan, ’cause you never know which one will turn into the good girl you’re meant to keep.”

  I nodded, eyes wide. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I noticed Finley waving her hand in front of my face. “Ethan?” she asked, worry etched over every inch of her face. I wondered how long I’d stood there with her, drowning in the memory of my dead mother.

  I blinked once. “Finley,” I said quietly.

  “Yes?” she asked, her brows furrowed in distress.

  “Yesterday was the anniversary of my mother’s death. And-and I forgot.” My voice cracked at the end. I cleared it to gain composure.

  Her loss felt fresh again saying it out loud. The wound of her death ripped back open, exposing my already damaged heart to the harshness of a bitter environment. An environment I’d created on my
own. I discovered I’d forgotten when I opened the fridge earlier that afternoon. Its emptiness consumed me in a strange way, as if my body knew I’d forgotten. That was when I glanced at the calendar and discovered I’d dishonored the memory of my mom by forgetting the worst day of our lives.

  Finley’s hands went to her mouth and her eyes glassed over. “Ethan,” she breathed.

  “How could I forget the worst day of my life, Fin? How?” She moved for me but stepped back when I continued again, her hands fisting at her mouth. “The awful part is I hadn’t even realized it was coming up. I couldn’t even bother to remember.” My left hand laid at my side while my right clenched at my heart, ready to tear it out just to relieve the hurt. I averted my gaze, focusing on a neon sign pulsing in the pitch-black night. “I’m a terrible son, Finley.”

  My whole body felt overwhelmingly sad. I recognized with that memory that a person may forget a date but they cannot forget a torment. The mind may fail you but the heart never does. Grief etches itself inside the body’s stone. It weathers with age as all etchings do, worn by the winds of time, but the remnants are there. They remain and they continue to distinguish themselves. A sculptor would never forget its chisel. It’s the curse of the carver.

  Without warning, a cool, slender hand found my forearm and some of the agony suffered a little less.

  Finally, I sighed to myself, pulling her to me and wrapping my arms around her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Harv did sell me a battery that night when we went back, and it was close to three in the morning when I finally dropped Finley at her apartment. She was so exhausted she admitted the loneliness she’d felt earlier had disappeared since her eyes were already half closed. I walked her inside and made sure she locked her door when I left, not that Kalispell was dangerous or anything, but why take chances?

  I went home that morning with a fairly definite idea of who Finley was. She was my earthly guardian angel, my little salvation. I’d never tell her as much because who needs that kind of pressure, right? But I most definitely relied on her. The entire drive back, I wondered if I would ever deserve her friendship, how I could ever pay her back for what she’d done for me. I knew that I might not ever atone for it, but I also knew I’d live my entire life aspiring to accomplish just that.