Chapter 2

Monday, on the way home, Willow asked Gina if she could ask her mother if she minded going out of the way on the late evenings to take Jacob home.

“Why are we taking Jacob home, may I ask?”

“Because, friend, he will be joining the Junior Orchestra as a classical guitar player. Hopefully, he will round out Summer Rose playing folk songs. He is a fine guitarist, but not one who wants to be a rock star. He’s been shy about letting everyone hear him.”

“How do you know all that?”

I had taken the advice of a co-worker and made an appointment at a new salon in town for a haircut. My old male barber had retired, looking for other barbers in the yellow pages proved to be an effort in futility.

Realistically, I don’t think old time barbers even exist anymore. I had almost decided to settle on one of the chains for their special, even at $ 12.88 the price seemed ridiculous when I used to get a haircut for seven dollars at my old barbers. I know, I sound like a born cheap stake.

I wished with all my heart that I had been able to help him more, when he was younger. When it might have made a difference. But the past, as I knew only too well, could not be repaired.

It could only be transcended.

Things were going well in Dublin, but I now needed to move to London. From there I could apply at the Embassy for a passport with greater leeway as to who could countersign the paperwork. We told Sameed that we would be quitting at the end of the week and he was most disconsolate. He persuaded us to do one more week and we were happy to oblige him. He also gave us a reference in Arabic in the event that we wanted to look for work in any of the Lebanese restaurants or Arabic-themed clubs there.

Murder
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Have you heard it said that a friend is somebody who will help you move house, but a best friend is somebody who will help you move a body? That is the kind of friend my brother Dan was to Byron Marker. And I was as close to Dan as a sister could be, which was how I got to be included in their plan.

Alco’s Self Storage:
“Man, I am so sore from moving all those heavy boxes and that piano.” Rustie looks at Ivy as he sweeps up the last of the trash in the second locker.

Rustie didn’t know that when someone bought a storage locker, they had to throw away all the trash in the locker as well. It was a good thing the storage unit manager had a wheel barrel they could use to haul all the trash to the dumpster.

“YOU A GEEZER, OR WHAT?”

Volume control wasn’t his strong suit, evidently. Thankfully, the bus was already there, so I stepped on as if he hadn’t spoken, eructated, puked, whatever. Good start to the day.

Usual start to the day.

The car wildly veered off the road and into the woods. I could not believe that the car had entered the path used to cross the creek, so no trees were there for us to smash into. However, there was the creek to consider, and the small car went over the edge and landed in the water with the sound of twisting metal and screams from the three of us as we came to a grinding stop.

As fall approached, I knew my flower was not going to last. Sakura and I decided we were going to leave, and we told the others our goodbyes. Nobody had any problem at all with it. I suspect the original five had mostly not been born here, but migrated from who knows where, so they understood our desire to go see other places.

Part Eleven by Iona Laing.

Chapter Thirty-one.