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Down in the Dirt magazine (v103)
(the February 2012 Issue)




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It Was All
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After the Apocalypse
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Jaclyn-Kate

Alyssa Lawless

    Jaclyn-Kate sat in silence as Dave pulled the pick-up truck onto the main drag. The radio was down low, barely audible over the loud, souped up muffler.
    She watched out the window as the truck rolled along in the early morning hour. The roads were empty; everyone was asleep. He drove over the bridge and she stared out at the harbor. She counted the boats. There were nine.
    The silence was heavy but neither said a word. Dave’s phone blared some random rap song. She drew in a breath. She turned her head slightly and watched him pick up the phone and peer at it. He clicked the side of the phone and placed it back on his lap. His dark hair was messy, sticking up here and there. As they drove downtown, the lights from the illuminated shop signs sprayed enough light on his face to make her stare. Dark hair, blue eyes. He was good-looking, borderline beautiful.
    “Take a right at the hardware store. It’s quicker,” she said, surprised by the steadiness of her voice.
    His eyes left the road and locked on her. She kept her sight straight ahead. Her body tensed. He turned his head back to the road. Her body relaxed. He stayed straight and the hardware store disappeared behind them.
    “No. It’s not quicker,” he said.
    Warmness welled up in her eyes and a few tears fell. He stopped at a red light and she stared into the empty coffee shop outside the window.
     She bit the inside of her mouth, trying to stop the tears and dissipate the lump in her throat. After she succeeded, she quickly wiped the wetness away, trying to play it off like her cheekbones were itchy.
    The truck rumbled up to the front of her apartment. He pulled up on the curb and she yanked at the door handle before he had rolled to a stop. The doors were locked. He quickly unlocked them. She swung open the door and was about to slide down off the seat when she felt his hand grip her arm. Her pulse started pounding in her head.
    “Look, I’m sorry. Like I said before, I clearly misread you at the bar and I’m sorry.” He still had a grip on her arm. The flood light from the house shone into the car, onto his apologetic blue eyes.
    “It’s fine,” she whispered.
    He let go of her arm and she got out of the truck.
    “Jaclyn.” Her feet had just met the concrete.
    “You’re not planning on telling anybody about this right? Because you know, it was a misunderstanding and it’s kind of embarrassing,” he paused, “for both of us.”
    She stared into his eyes, hard. The left side of his lip crept up into playful smirk.
    “No, I won’t,” she said.
     “Okay. Good. Hey, come back up here for a minute,” he said tapping the passenger seat with his hand.
    She evaluated his benign smile then got back in the truck. He leaned over the console and reached out his right hand. She froze and fixated on his eyes. His lean stopped when he was a ruler’s length from her face and he pushed back a strand of her brown hair, his fingers grazing her temple as he did. She sucked in her breath and the blood pulsed in her head. She felt the blood pulsing down there too. He rested his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her in closer.
    “I’m sorry,” he said.
    She shook her head in acceptance.
    “Give me a kiss,” he whispered.
    He kissed her.
    “Don’t tell anybody,” he whispered and pulled away.
    He put the truck into drive and Jaclyn slid out of the truck. She shut the heavy, black door and he drove away.
    She fumbled with her keys, until she finally unlocked the door. She stepped into the foyer and stood, facing the stairs to her apartment. She listened to the exhaust become more and more faint. She listened until she couldn’t hear it anymore.



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