EQMM, June 2012 by Dell Magazine Authors

Author:Dell Magazine Authors
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Dell Magazines

Department of First Stories: WALKING OUT by Judith L. Shadford

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In 2009, Judith Shadford moved to Tacoma, Washington and did an MFA in Creative Writing at the Rainier Writing Workshop of Pacific Lutheran University. Prior to that she'd had an active career in marketing and public relations in New York City and Santa Barbara, California, in such areas as senior healthcare, historic preservation, publishing, and prep-school development. She currently lives in Spokane, and from the way this first story ends, our guess is she'll eventually write some kind of sequel to it.

My husband disappears on his way home from the library and this cop says I shouldn't take it personally. Right.

Officer Jerolski told me it was likely one of those mid-life crises: go-out-for-cigarettes-and-disappear-off-the-face-of-the-earth deal. He said more men did it than you'd think.

Talking, talking, his voice going up and down like a dinghy when a speedboat goes by. Kind of soothing in a weird way, not that I was listening that much. Watching more than listening. He just sat there, pushing down my creamy leather couch, his thighs looking like khaki logs. A thick neck. I tried to pretend I wasn't looking at those curly red hairs that stuck out over the top of his snow-white undershirt. Wasn't staring at the stiff ridge all the way across the front of his shirt—as if he were hiding a notebook. Maybe he put his script in the notebook. Maybe he would pull it out if he got stuck on what to say next. Homework ribs.

No.

It's a bulletproof vest. No wonder he sits like that. He can't move. He's just going to sit there and talk and talk and talk until I die of old age.

Did Randy die?

Is Randy dead?

Maybe somebody killed Randy? Did you ever think of that, Officer?

"Were there people at school who didn't like him? Maybe students he gave a hard time, failed?"

I shook my head. “Everybody liked Randy. Or, they didn't think he was important enough to dislike. Even tough kids thought he was okay. A nerd, but okay. A drive-by shooting . . . how about that? Something random . . . ?"

"Paso Calma is a little town, Mrs. Turnbull. Tiny, really. We don't have drugs or gangs. People know Randy. The librarian knows him. She saw him leave. We've covered every inch of the five blocks between here and the library. Nobody heard anything, saw anything. No evidence of violence. Absolutely none. People were out walking. It isn't even dark at eight-thirty."

I'd walked home from Sophie's about nine-thirty that night, after Girls’ Night Out.

Such a Girls’ Night . . . We watch National Geographic and talk about trips we'll never take. Plus a glass of wine. Or two. I was kind of excited about Lake Baikal. Wanted to tell Randy about it. Have a glass with him and think about going to Lake Baikal.

"They just leave like that, ma'am. Just walk out and find a new identity."

Ha.

I knew about Randy and new identities.

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