Sister got a job working graveyard shift at Walgreens. She’d been kicked out of every other job for stealing. The manager, an old Korean lady, told sister, you talk, but hear nothing.
Two weeks on the job, some sweat-drenched guy came up alongside sister, pressed a gun to her head. He was bone-thin, shaking, stank of fear. Sister told the screaming Korean lady to shut-up, hand over the keys. Sister spoke as she loaded his bag with Morphine, Oxycodone and Oxycontin.
She whispered as he cocked the gun. She chatted as she emptied the register. She babbled away, didn’t die.
Sister shoves a handful of Triscuits down my throat. Pinned down by her legs I thrash and gag. Mom is passed out on the couch, empty bottles of pink Chablis beneath her. The psycho animation of New York’s torrential roar blasts out of the TV while a sequined ball drops into Time Square where the masses celebrate another year to forget.
You kissed him, sister screeches, as I gasp for air, wheat splinters foaming out.
She doesn’t know I whispered no when he snuck in my room. She doesn’t know I threw up after he buckled his pants and left.
Sister told my friend she was going to rack him up. He has a girlfriend already, my friend smirked, as though that had anything to do with sister’s promise to fulfill the searchlight in his pants.
One night he spotted sister in a bar, sauntered in. She nodded at him, smiled at her friends and turned to the bartender. Line up the shots, she said, as six heads turned around on barstools to check him out while he turned whiter than he already was and tried to do the math to match the cash he was fisting in his pocket.
For more, see our interview with Meg Tuite.
I liked the character of sister, so nearly anonymous, a great continuing concept. Jeff
These were great. I agree, “Sister’s boyfriend” is the winner.
I love these. I’ve been waiting for some crime-fiction-esk flash for years now.
Absolutely mesmerizing in their scope. For me, “Sister’s boyfriend” is the winner.