By Daniel DiStasio

The Fairlane’s brakes squealed as it pulled to the curb. Held together by rust and stubbornness—built Ford tough—it seemed determined to outlive its inhabitants, Ruby and Stubbs, who shared the front seat.  The backseat carried their worldly possessions, blankets from Our Lady of Peace, plastic shopping bags filled with more plastic shopping bags, clothes, mostly soiled and torn, and two jugs of water.

Ruby hesitated, her hand on the door handle.

“More. They’ll bring more.”

“It’s just that….”

Stubbs rolled the stem of a crack pipe between his fingers.

“Just grab the stuff we’ll get out of here.”

Ruby didn’t like the idea. In fact, she hated it, but disagreeing with Stubbs was not in her dictionary.

The door opened with a creak. The street was dark except for the hundreds of votives illuminating the sidewalk. A blanket of flowers surrounded teddy bears, a unicorn, and–oh my god–a brand new pair of Nikes.  She stepped out and began filling bags. A basketball. A jewelry box with a ballerina that spun when you opened it. T-shirts.  A bracelet of wooden hearts.  There were photographs: a blonde girl in a cheerleading outfit; a nerdy-looking kid with clunky black glasses; a round-faced boy with big white teeth.  All smiles. Eyes shining.

“Hurry the fuck up, we ain’t shopping here.”

 She reached between the photos, careful not to burn her sleeves.  This was one of her good blouses. Bags filled, she stopped and plucked a rose from a bouquet and held it to her chest.

“Come on, I hear a car coming.”

A momentary freeze like a deer in the headlights, then she ran to the car, jumped in, and slid across the cracked leather seat. Stubbs sniffed at the bags.

“Let’s get out of here and sell that shit.”

The rose was crushed, its stem bent, its petals disheveled. She squeezed the stem to try and make it stand straight, but it toppled over like a drunk. She held the bloom to her nose and breathed in. Its scent had faded. The perfect heart shape–gone.

“Throw that piece of shit out of here.”  

The Rolling Stones blared on the radio, as she rolled down the window and tossed the flower into the night.  

*   *   *

Daniel DiStasio’s work has appeared in The Louisville Review, Summerset Review, Reed, Bodega, 45th Parallel and many others. His first novel “Facing the Furies” was published in 2012. He earned his MFA in fiction at Spalding University. He is currently working on a historical novel based on the 1897 Gold Rush in Alaska, and a collection of short stories focused on the magic influence of bears. His obsession has led him to trekking bears in Alaska, India, Greece, Peru, and numerous US states. When not working or writing, he cares for his Shetland Sheepdogs: Nikolai Gogol, and James Joyce.