Small Town Conflicts

A Story by Drew

A man has to deal with the conflict of his best friend being a thief and his girlfriend threatening to give him up.

Don’t let the fire go out.

I don’t plan to.

While the embers are getting cold.

Cold? They’re bright red.

Whatever.

Dave walked, huffing and puffing his way back to the couch after saving the fire. His loud footsteps awoke the yellow lab laying on a pinstripe bed. He scrambled to his feet, unsure what his master wanted. The flames returned to the fire pit, licking the open flu and warming the cabin. Wrapped in a Pendleton blanket across from him was his mountain woman; deep brunette, good-natured and in fleece and wool head to toe. She thanked him for starting the fire and blew him a kiss. She leaned over the arm cushion and flicked back on the stereo. Wagon Wheel came blaring through the speaker, so she adjusted it down to a bearable level.

You know I hate country music.

Yeah I know.

Then why do you make me listen to it?

It’s good for the soul.

Whatever.

He finished his Guinness. His mood had soured. Only fifteen minutes earlier the dog was asleep and he had beer and warmth from under his blanket. Now he had gotten up and lost his warmth. No beer. Dog awake and running around. All for a stupid fire he thought to himself. He kissed his girl on the cheek, made the dog lay back down in his bed and headed for his room. He detoured into his bathroom, bloodshot eyes staring back at him from the mirror cabinet.

You look like s**t.

I feel like it too.

Well as long as you’re aware.

Thanks.

He brushed his teeth and washed his face with warm water before crawling into bed. Some thunder rumbled in the distance. A coyote howled.

At least I’m home.

At least you’re home.

Dave awoke the next morning with a familiar feeling. A head of hair nestled on his chest. It tickled his sensitive skin. A warm arm wrapped around his torso. He made a move to get up and felt the grip tighten. She wasn’t quite ready to get up. He managed to replace his torso with a pillow in her grip, sliding out of bed and putting on slippers to muffle his steps. He fed the dog and brewed two cups of coffee. Black. One with raw sugar, one without. He needed something, anything to sweeten his day. He put the coffee on her he dresser. That would wake her up. Returning to the kitchen Dave cracked eggs into a pan and began to fry them. He toasted bread and took the thick cut bacon from the fridge. On a mahogany tray he re-entered the bedroom with two breakfast sandwiches and his own coffee. He entered to an upright, stunning woman who put a smile on his bearded face.

Good morning.

Mornin.

Did you sleep well?

Not really. You snored a lot.

Sorry, I’ll try and do better.

It’s not your fault, you should really go see someone.

Okay.

They ate their breakfast and sipped strong coffee.

When do you have to work?

Eight thirty.

Awfully late.

I’m a writer.

Right.

Dave exited the room. He thought about how boring today would be and how she had somehow forgot he didn’t have to punch a clock. He put the dishes in the sink and heard the shower running. He went back to his bedroom and put on carhartts and a work shirt. He slipped on his danners, filled his thermos with the rest of the coffee pot and left. 8:15.

At about 8:25 Dave arrived at work. He walked in the door. A bell rang.

Just me Martha.

How are you Dave?

Well-rested.

You don’t look it.

You’re not the first one to tell me that.

He went past the reception office and up the stairwell. He worked one floor above the post office. Since only about 500 people lived in town it was a busy place. He got to the top of the stairwell and emptied his office. He flipped on the radio. This American Life was on. He had heard this one before. Something about being an elf around Christmas. He put in a new CD and Joe Cocker came running into the room. Much better he thought. One poster of Al Pacino sat framed behind him. It was him and Chris O’Donnell driving the Ferrari in Scent of a Woman. He loved that movie. The other qualities of the room included an all too ordinary desk, some great uni-ball pens, a copy of Huck Finn and one of the The Communist Manifesto. He also had an old picture of him and Bernie Sanders at an environmental rally from a few years back.

He sat down in the worn leather chair and grabbed one of many moleskine notepads. He set it back down. Dave got up and went to the other side of the room, looking out at the view. Sometimes it took very little for him to appreciate the job he had. He watched the water pour down over the falls and a red bridge spanning the width of the falls. He sat back down and began to write.

He wrote for hours, right through lunch. Around 1:30 or so he stepped out of his office, thermos now on its last drop and his stomach nearing its last howl. Stepping out of the crisp cold air and into the diner, Dave sat down at the bar.

How’s the day Hun?

Just fine thanks

What can I get you?

Just coffee and the soup please.

Coming right up.

He glanced down at his boots and retied them. He heard the door open and a cold blast of air at his back. He glanced around just as a man in all camouflage came running in.

No need for alarm everyone, I’m only here for the cash.

Screams.

Please don’t hurt us.

Give me the cash in that till ma’am and I won’t have to.

Please, its all our profit for the mo-

Ma’am. Please. Don’t make this difficult.

With the money in a canvas duffel, the man left, jumped in a truck and rode into the distance. A stunning silence overtook the room, only to be replaced by Dave’s voice.

Everyone relax, is everyone alright?

Murmurs, agreeing.

Now we’ll just call the police and get this taken care of.

After he had given his statement and left, he realized he had spent significantly more time at the diner than he previously imagined. Back in his office around 4, Dave wrote some about his experience that day, but found it quite cliché. He closed up the moleskine and turned off Joe. He locked the door to his office, got in his Ford Ranger and went home. Unlocking the door to a barking partner in crime, Dave took out his lab and played around in the snow for awhile. Zoe yelled him at for not closing the door, but he knew she didn’t mean it. He eventually came back in to the smell of searing steak.

Hey babe, how was your day?

A little weird.

What do you mean?

The diner got robbed.

What?

It got robbed.

Holy s**t.

Yeah it was exciting.

Exciting?

You know what I mean.

Dave and Zoe ate dinner by candle light as they did every night. It saved electricity claimed Dave. She claimed it was romantic. He disagreed.

What do you want to do tonight?

I dunno.

Mark’s having a bonfire.

That could be fun.

Let’s go then, it’s Friday night.

Okay.

They finished their dinners and put on extra layers. Zoe always had about seven layers on. Dave made do with three. They took the dog with them and loaded up the truck. Mark’s was just down the street and around the corner. They could already see the fire going from the hill that the house sat on top of. They rolled their way down the hill and parked on the street. Dave got out of the car and Mark greeted him at the door.

Dave! How are you my man.

Oh doin just fine thanks, how about you?

Good good! The whole crew is in the back, just waiting on you.

I guess we’ll head back there then.

Every time he entered the house Dave was brought back to college, where him and Mark had been best friends. The times they had shared together were perfect. They had always had quick hands, and never failed to use them. At one point during sophomore year they had stolen more booze from the frat house than could fit in their room. They got caught only when they had to start hiding it in the common room, which didn’t last long. That was a long time ago, Dave thought to himself. But it had been a great time. He walked through to the kitchen, and grabbed a beer. Mark had a standard house. Small kitchen, floor littered with a dog bowl and a hiking backpack and a canvas duffel. He sipped his beer and continued on to the raging fire in the backyard.

In the back was a group of both Dave and Mark’s closest friends from college and beyond. The whole crew together. There was Dylan, that awkward third wheeling friend who didn’t drink much in college. He was an outdoor guide and had been hiking that morning with Dave. Then Carrie, Dave’s old flame. He still remembered that day she told Zoe:

I kind of wish he just didn’t exist.

Unfortunately for Carrie, they had just fucked the night before. She hung around, pregnant twice and aborted twice more. She worked at the real estate office as a desk jockey and only hung around since Ross worked with Mark. Ross was another burnout. Him and Mark worked the Pump and Munch that occupied the decrepit brick building on the corner of Bellion and Woodstock. Finally there was Jimi. Named after Hendrix, hence the spelling, Jimi had made it farther than any of them. At a bonfire but still wearing thousand dollar Tom Ford’s, Jimi spent the weekends in town but the five-day in Boston at his law firm. And that was the crew- and Zoe of course. Just as Dave was making his rounds and got to Carrie, she rescued him from surefire awkward confrontation.

Hey Hun, just playing with Mark’s new bulldog. He has a surprise for you.

Oh yeah? You know I don’t like surprises.

I named it after you man!

F*****g s**t, you didn’t.

I did! Now I can boss you around every day!

Splendid.

This gesture warmed Dave’s heart if only for a moment. He thought it was a little weird, but Dave wasn’t such a bad name for a dog. He had already downed one beer but another one beckoned from the dim light of the fridge. They drank good stuff now. Natty light was in their rearview.

Can I get anyone a beer?

Here I’ll come with you.

Mark and Dave drinking, what a surprise.

They went into the kitchen and Mark kicked and shuffled around some of the mess on the floor.

So, how’s work?

It is what it is.

And…it’s a gas station.

Pretty much.

Sorry man, if I ever get famous you can be my publicist.

Thanks. I’ve had some financial trouble lately.

Minimum wage not cutting it?

Not exactly.

Did you apply for welfare? I heard that’s better than some paychecks these days.

Nah, not gonna stoop that low.

Whatever you say.

I did something else.

What do you mean?

Well I needed some cash and-

He thought of the duffel bag on the floor. He hadn’t paused before. This time an extended one took place. Mark. The bag. Mark again. The bag. Mark one more time.

You didn’t. I was there.

I know. I’m sorry.

I was right next to the register.

I know but I wasn’t armed.

Holy s**t Mark.

Are you mad bro?

I don’t know what I am.

Look I’ve gotta tell the group before they find out.

Do what you have to man.

Can you help me?

Help you?

Tell them.

I guess. I need another drink.

They returned to the fire with new beers and a different tone. Mark sat down on a bench and threw his arms around his friends. He paused for a second and got up in front of them. It was something like a speech albeit a short one.

Hey everyone, thanks for coming! It’s good to have the family back together.

Raise glasses and toast. Stone faced glare from Carrie to Dave.

Now you guys are my best friends, so I’m certainly not looking for pity. But I need to tell you something. I’m not proud but it happened. I’ve hit some tough financial times, and I resorted to what many of you won’t understand. I went down to the diner on Main Street and I took every cent they had.

A clichéd pin could be heard dropping on the ground.

But I need you guys, because the guilt will eat me alive if I didn’t tell my friends. So please. I’m begging you. A pact here and now that you won’t breathe a word. In return you can stay here and get drunk and possibly lit on fire.

A surprised Mark realized this elicited no laughter whatsoever.

Please.

Okay.

Alright.

Of course.

We understand.

Fine.

Mark drew a deep breath then a gulp of Fosters. At least that was out of the day. He wasn’t sure why he told his friends but he felt like he had to. The night carried on with uncomfortable tone. Half of them passed out and the other half came close to it. Dave and Zoe headed home around nine the next morning. A giant c**k had been drawn into the slushy windshield of the ranger. Trademark Ross thought Dave. They got out of the truck after arriving home and picked up the paper. It covered about twenty towns since most had under a thousand people.

-- First robbery in 17 Years Shakes Watson Residents �"

He knew the journalist who wrote the articles. They went to school together. A real shmuck. Never made it to creative writing. But he was the only literate journalist in the area. A semi-pretentious Dave scoffed at journalistic writing. He read all about the if you have any information contact this no name police officer. Perhaps he was upset because he had just figured out who the robber was. That burden fell upon him gradually.

How can he…how can he expect this of us? It’s a burden- worse it’s a crime!

Zoe calm down. He made a mistake.

Mistake? The mistake was telling us! How can he shoulder us with that?

Well he has. Now we have to deal with it. We can’t say anything.

I know we can’t. But know that I don’t agree with this. This is wrong.

It is. But he’s our friend.

It shouldn’t matter.

It does.

Whatever.

It was a Saturday but he chose to go to work anyway. Zoe had him nervous. He thought about calling Mark for lunch at the diner but thought better of it. Instead he wrote furiously all day. Around six he closed up shop and drove home. He came in and there was more candlelight. Two huge racks of lamb sat on each plate. His favorite. She came through the kitchen door with a perfectly poured glass of Macallan 18.

This is weird.

Why?

It’s all my favorites.

Yes I know.

My birthday is in September.

I realize.

Our anniversary is in July.

Indeed.

Christmas was last week.

And?

I’m confused.

He sat down anyway, unlikely to question anything except maybe the candlelight. Something was up but his mouth was full of succulent meat so he chose not to break the silence. Zoe chose to first.

We aren’t done talking about last night.

Fork drops.

I think we are. What else is there left to say?

The waitress he robbed is a friend.

Was she harmed?

What?

Was she harmed?

Well no.

Does she still get paid?

Well…yes.

Then I can’t see the problem.

He picked up the bone from the lamb and practically licked it clean.

Great food.

Don’t change the subject.

Better single malt.

I said don’t change it. You know this is bothering me.

I know. But I can’t do anything. He’s my best friend and I won’t abandon him.

What he did was horrible. He deserves what is coming to him. He shouldn’t need his friends to protect him.

I can’t just let him go to jail.

Dinner was over. He got up and did all the dishes himself while she stared blankly at her glass. Her glossy fingernails rapped on the glass and broke an otherwise cringe worthy silence.

I just think we should consid-

I said I won’t abandon him.

That doesn’t mean I wo-

Don’t even go there.

Stop interrupting me.

I’m going for a walk.

He put on his barn coat and boots and walked outside. He jumped in the ranger and drove around. By Mark’s. Mark’s again. One more time. This time he stared in the window. He could see him watching Law and Order. He put it back in 1^st gear and rolled away. He drove back to the house around 11. The door was locked. He went and stayed at Mark’s for the night. He was welcomed with open arms and half empty pizza boxes.

Sorry she kicked you out man.

It’s all good, it’ll blow over. She’s just got too big a conscience.

Well do you think I’m safe?

Safe?

Will she go to the police?

No absolutely not. Even if she wanted to I wouldn’t let her.

Thanks man. It means a lot.

We’ve known each other a long time.

That we have.

Good to know you’re there for me.

Yeah.

The next morning he climbed out of the sinking couch and put on his boots. He knew he was in deep with Zoe when he got back. She always worried about him taking off and never coming back. Insecurity issues. They canceled out his intimacy issues so it worked out. He pulled out of Mark’s and headed back toward his house. He could hear sirens in the distance. Not ambulance. Definitely not fire. Then he saw the fast approaching American flag colors beaming from the top of a Ford Explorer. A Crown Vic followed close behind. He pulled over to the right as they sped past him on the rural road. Dave had a bad habit of being oblivious. This wasn’t one of those cases. He sped back to his house and almost took the door off its hinges.

Zoe!

Silence.

Zoe…

Silence.

Zoe god d****t!

He heard the creaking staircase whisper. He knew she was up there. Too afraid to come down and face him. He knew what she had done that morning. He brewed the strongest coffee he could and sat at the table. He tapped his fingers and scratched the wood. He watched the clocks hands move as if in molasses. 9 am. 10 am. 11 am. He didn’t move a muscle. He could hear sobbing coming from upstairs. Still he waited. Finally around half past one she walked down the stairs, careful not to scare him. some twisted thought in her head told her she could just walk by and he wouldn’t notice. Maybe he’s asleep. Maybe he’s too mad to say anything. Not the case.

Dave looked up as if on cue. A look of betrayal glazed his eyes. She was no longer Zoe. She was the woman who put his best friend in jail. He’d promised him.

Get out.

Dave…

I said get the f**k out of my house.

This was best for every-

Don’t f*****g insult him. He was my best friend.

He still is.

He’s in a jail cell downtown!

He committed a crime.

It doesn’t f*****g matter! He’s my best friend what the f**k don’t you understand Zoe?

I’m your girlfriend. We’ve been together for years.

I can’t believe you. He made you promise. In front of everyone.

I know but its just-

Shut up. Get the f**k out.

What about my stuff?

You can get it tomorrow. Get out.

Zoe left sobbing. She didn’t understand what she had done. Sending a man to jail over the phone will do that.

He cleaned an old college photo of him and Mark. He apologized. Dave felt defeated and weak. He was limp at the knees and didn’t want to eat. He knew the sheriff of the town quite well. Not the nicest fellow. Cracked his whip more often than needed. Mark would do time. The best years of his life wasted. Dave looked up and into the mirror.

It’s not like he was going anywhere. He’s 28 and a gas station attendant.

You promised.

Its not like I told the police. She did.

You promised.

I couldn’t have actually stopped her.

But you promised.

I know I f*****g promised.

He tore the mirror from the wall. He let his emotions take control. Shame and anger and hate and resentment. A promise he never could have kept.

© 2013 Drew

Author's Note

Please ignore grammar problems, it's a first edit. Also I would love feedback on the plot, I'm struggling with whether or not its got enough substance. Thanks!

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.quan.011.

This is a beautiful piece of literature. Since you don't want us to acknowledge grammar errors. I have one little problem. It is with the front. Please make it a tap bigger. Otherwise good work.