katie reads & more

Some of the themes in this story may be sensitive for some viewers. Please proceed with caution.

Macy attempted to tighten the stretched-out straps of her second-hand bra as she stood in front of the dirty bathroom mirror, running through her never-ending, mental to-do list before getting a start on her day. The last few child support checks bounced, the diner was late on her last paycheck and her paycheck from the department store wouldn’t land for another week. If she skipped breakfast and ate a peanut butter and banana sandwich for lunch and dinner, the kids would still be able to get new gym shoes before their old ones gave out. She would go without for the rest of her life, if it meant her kids remained blissfully unaware. 

But right now, she was starting at her reflection, wondering where time has gone. She slid a brush through her hair and noticed the new gray strands falling next to her cheeks. It was more noticeable now that she’s gone natural, unable to hide genetic aging with a bit of bleach. She couldn’t afford it, and she was quite okay with letting herself gracefully gain a few more years. Her make up doesn’t do a great job at covering up her dark spots, dollar store make up is just not as good as the expensive stuff. As she dabbed blush on the apples of her cheeks, she paid special close attention to the fine lines around her eyes. The way the creases came together at the corners and spread out into her forehead reminded her of her mother. She moved a hand across her face, moving any fallen hair away so she could see herself clearer. Oh yes, she was resembling her mother more these days. Her bright blue eyes from her youth have softened a bit, becoming more of a blue gray, and her cheeks didn’t hold the same bounce they had in previous years. She squinted her eyes, if she didn’t look to close, she could almost trick her brain into thinking it was her mother staring back at her and not her own image. Of course, this was impossible, as she hasn’t seen her mother in eight years, not since before her youngest was born. She thought about her often, and today, after seeing the likeliness they have, she wondered if a reconciliation was possible, after all these years. 

Every morning, Lucy would stumble into the kitchen at 5:42 in the morning, where she would brew an entire pot of coffee, a necessity in her insistence of skipping breakfast. When the little beep went off, she poured her first cup, grabbed her pack of cigarettes and stepped onto her porch to enjoy the morning outside, to the best of her ability. Despite the rather warm weather, she draped a thick blanket over her shoulders, her frail body needing the extra protection. She was quite sure the fresh breeze and the sound of crunching leaves was the reason she was still alive, though she would never admit that to anyone. Come winter, when it was too cold for her to rock in her chair, she wasn’t sure there was anything that would be worth sticking around for. She can’t recall the last time she washed her sheets, the last time she picked up a good book, or the last time she had any care of the cleanliness or appearance of her home. No one came around to see her, and she didn’t care much for inviting company over, anyway. Except for grocery shopping every other week and meeting her high school friends for coffee once a month, she didn’t leave the house much. She didn’t see the need for it, not anymore. Her husband has been gone for a decade, and she hasn’t spoken to her daughter in almost that long. She was positive that was mostly her doing, that she pushed her daughter away, at the time she needed her more than anything. But what’s done is done. She contemplated this as she rocked back and forth, watching a squirrel carry his food across her yard. She speculated when her life became less valuable and purposeful than that of a woodland creature.

Once her pot of coffee and her pack of cigarettes were gone, she went out for a grocery run. She picked up a single can of ravioli, a bottle of Pepsi, a bag of barbeque chips, and a single serving of chocolate cake. On her way home she stopped at the sporting goods store and purchased the smallest and cheapest box of ammo she could find. She didn’t need anything fancy, just something that would work for her firearm and get the job done. She settled back into her SUV, her bags sitting on the seat next to her, stealing the space from the one person she wished she could have with her the most. The same person that would never be there, or anywhere, again. As she pulled out of the parking lot, she stopped as a young couple passed, pushing a double stroller. As they reached the front of Lucy’s car, the man and woman both raised a hand to her, thanking her for letting them cross. Lucy’s eyes stung, and her face become wet, drops of liquid falling into the cracks in her cheeks. She sniffed, and let the tears dry to her timeworn skin, as she headed back to her home. 

After Macy dropped the children off at school, she headed to her first job, waitressing at the local diner. They were only open until after lunch, but the tips were great, and it allowed her to not have to pay a babysitter to watch Grace and Matthew. When she approached the front door of the establishment, she found a FORECLOSURE sign next to a taped piece of paper stating there was a sudden closure, followed by a thank you to the community for the support in business for the last fifteen years. Macy cursed and dropped her shoulder bag next to her and she plopped down on the steps leading up to the door of the building. She sat and contemplated her next move as she watched the world around her, seeing recognizable faces mixed in with strangers, off to their 9-5’s. Just as she was about to give up and head home, a familiar vehicle drove past. If it hadn’t been like looking at an older, frailer, portrait of her own profile she might not have recognized her own mother. She jumped to her feet, watching in awe as her mother turn the corner, heading home, she assumed. Despite living in the same city, she has yet to run into her mother since their fall-out after Macy’s father passed. She still regrets leaving her mother behind when she really needed her most, but the pain of losing someone so close to her and dealing with the news that she was having another baby was too much for her. Of course, leaving wasn’t the best thing she came to find out, as before she was even in her 2^nd trimester, her fiancé left, off to start a life of his own. Now, she’s lucky if she sees a check or two from him. 

Checking her watch, it dawned on her that there was plenty of time to kill before her kids were out of school. After spending as much time as she could applying to as many jobs as she could find on her cell phone, she found herself wandering towards the neighborhood of her childhood.

Lucy loaded her gun as the can of ravioli heated on the stove top. Occasionally, she looked up, through the window of her living room and thought deeply about the squirrel from this morning and the family from this afternoon. She didn’t have much of a life if those two things could take such an impact on her. She tried not to think about anything meaningful, but for some reason those two topics were spinning around in her mind today.  Once her food was warm enough to consume, she sat on the floor of her living room, waiting and watching for the squirrel to reappear. She took small bites of her meal, savoring each bite, as she did with her chips and her dessert. She was stalling, she knew it. As much as she needed this, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to the process of it all. She turned her head, eyeing the shiny, black metal sitting on her kitchen table. She slowly stood, walked over and gripped the weapon, not caring where she pointed it, and not bothering to keep her finger off the trigger. She walked upstairs to her bedroom and threw it carelessly on her bed, before spinning on her heels and heading back downstairs. Out of sight, out of mind, until she was prepared to face it head on. Each of her slippers hit each step slowly. She swore each step sounded like a gunshot, not a muffled pat on the carpet. It was mocking her. Her landline rang in the background, faded by her imagination. 

Halfway down the steps, she paused and covered her ears with her hands. They were ringing from the illusive sound pounding into her skull. She took five deep breaths; the same amount of time it took for her voicemail to take place of the simple hello she could have given. She took her hands off her ears and walked as fast as she could over the remaining steps, falling back onto the floor to finish her meal.

Macy took a walk, she never thought she would walk again, leading her to a 2-story bungalow she knew all too well, as she left a voicemail that she never thought she would leave. Her feet hurried over the crunchy leaves as a soft breeze tickled her neck, pushing her further to where she planned on going. She hoped to speak to her mother on the phone, not leave a message, but this was just as good, better even. They could just have a conversation in person, a proper apology to one another, more closure. 

Lucy walked into the kitchen, tossing her leftovers on the counter, instead of the trash, and saw the red blinking light on her answering machine. She stared at it, for a solid minute, to be sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. The only calls she got were salesmen, her friend’s rarely called her anymore, unless it was around the time that they were meeting. She shouldn’t listen to it, it likely is scam call, or someone misdialing, and leaving a message despite hearing her voice as the outgoing message. Curiosity getting the best of her, she hit PLAY.

“Hey, Mom. It’s me, um, Macy. I know it’s been a while, and I’m not really sure what to say, I thought that if you picked up the phone, I would find the words, but now that I know I’m talking to a machine, I seem to be at a loss. Look, I’m coming over. I should be there in a half hour. I don’t know about you, but I think we both owe each other an apology. So, yeah, I’m covering over, I’ll see you soon. Oh, and mom? I love you.“

Thank you for reading, friends! This is something I’ve been working on since last summer. It took me a long time to find the ending the ending I pictured in my head. I thought about Lucy and Macy every day, since I started this short. I desperately wanted to be sure they got the ending they deserved. It was important to me that it was open-ended enough that the audience can make their own predictions as to how the future plays out. I hope that you have pictured an ending for these characters that feels like the most authentic version to your perspective of the story.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255)