Chasing Happy

by Jenni M. Rose

  It was the betrayed look on Wendy’s face that haunted her. The look that screamed ‘I thought I knew you better than this.' Was this what she’d become? Someone who lived every second of her life for self-preservation? Someone who couldn’t be trusted to protect anyone but herself? She shook her head in the darkness. That was what she’d learned. How did you unlearn lessons that had been drilled into you over and over again?

  She didn’t even know why she was thinking along those lines. Why would she change? Because she wanted to be friends with Wendy and Max? Friends betrayed you. Friends left you. Friends died. What was the point? When she looked back on her life, she couldn’t count one single person that had stayed with her. Not her mother, not Butch. Certainly not Erin. She’d changed schools too many times to make real friends, and frankly, she’d been too weird. Kids didn’t want to hang out with other kids that talked about ghosts and death all the time, and parents didn’t want those kids around either.

  She was happy to see the string of lights outside of her camper and trudged her way inside. She didn’t bother turning any lights on, just got ready for bed in the dark. She used some wipes to take off the little makeup she wore and changed into a t-shirt and pajama shorts. Nine o’clock was too early for her to go to sleep but being in her own space was calming and she didn’t mind just lying there for a while.

  She considered what she would do when it was time for her to go to work in a few days. Would she just show up and work her shift as if nothing had happened? As if she hadn’t betrayed the one person that had tried to be nice to her. Would she skip out and quit? Try to find a new job in this town? She liked Jacob’s Beach, more than anywhere else she’d been in the last few years. Where would she go if she left? How would she get there? What, of her meager possessions, would she be able to bring?

  She tossed and turned, trying to ignore the rising tension she felt at the prospect of starting over somewhere new. Maybe, wherever it was, she’d learn to keep her head down and stay out of other people’s business. It would have never worked here, she realized. She’d never had a chance. How could she have given Wendy the cold shoulder she would have needed to keep her distance? How could she have acted indifferent toward her? Wendy made being nice too easy, and she wasn't someone that was going to mind her own business. She was going to pry and want to know everything.

  Late that night, Rosie fell into a fitful sleep full of dreams that echoed her past. Snippets of her time with Butch and Erin, the looks Erin used to shoot Butch when she talked about the dead. She saw Lainey Kinsley, playing in the grassy yard across the street. Memories flashed of a time with her mom, after the incarceration, dim and terrifying. The dark of the closet, the smell of burning flesh and the haunting sight of her mother’s crazed eyes looming above her. But this time, instead of choking the life out of her, her mother spoke.

  "She's coming for you, Happy." Her eyes lit up with the kind of glee that only comes with madness. "Better hang on, because she's coming."

  Her eyes popped open, and it was all gone. The memories and dreams vanished, and she was back in her sunny little trailer. Gizmo was meowing loudly at the door, ready to make his morning excursion around the woods. She threw the covers back and stood, her hair falling forward across her face. She pushed it back, keeping her forearm above her eyes to block the morning sun, and opened the door to let the cat out.

  “Good morning.”

  She jumped at the sound of a man's voice, letting out a startled scream.

  Max stood quickly, holding out his hands. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I thought you saw me.”

  Without a word she turned to go back into the camper.

  “Uh,” he said uncertainly. “Are you gonna come back out?”

  She sighed, her heart still racing. “Yeah, just give me a sec.”

  Closing the door behind her, she took a few deep breaths. He’d scared the crap out of her! What was he doing here? Suddenly, she remembered the events of the previous night, and going back out there seemed like a terrible idea. What if he’d come to tell her she was fired?

  “You know,” she turned and yelled through the door, “I think, on second thought, I’m just gonna stay in here.”

  “You wanna talk through the door?”

  His voice seemed closer, like he was standing on the other side of the door.

  “What’s there to talk about?” she asked.

  “Seriously?” He rapped on the door. “I’ll just stay out here until you come out.”

  “He gets his persistence from me.” Grandma Murphy appeared behind her, inside the camper.

  “Oh, Jesus,” Rosie muttered. “I'll be right out.”

  She threw a bra and sweatshirt on, then put her hair up. Grabbing her sunglasses, she slid them on and opened the door to face the music.

  Max was still standing there, just a few steps from the door, waiting for her while looking casually handsome in the mid-morning sun, his brown hair damp. His eyes, golden in the sun, still smiled at her, even after everything that happened the night before.

  “How mad is she?” Rosie asked. Might as well rip the band aid off.

  “On a scale of one to ten?” He made a face and flipped his hand over a few times. “I’d give it a six or seven.”

  “Did she send you to fire me?” She couldn’t hold his gaze then. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at her bare feet.

  “What? Rosie, No.” He sounded genuinely shocked. “No one’s firing you. Wendy’s not going to fire you.”

  She wanted to ask why Wendy wouldn't fire her but didn’t dare. Seemed too self-loathing, even for her.

  “Why’d you come, then?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I felt bad about what happened last night. And even though Wendy’s pissed right now, she’d be more pissed if something happened to you and no one bothered to check in with you. I wanted to make sure you got home okay. I told you I’d bring you home, and I didn’t. I’ve been stewing about it all night.”

  “All good,” she assured him, taking a step back. “Thanks for checking.” Behind him Gizmo came flying out of the woods like he was being chased by the devil. His meow like something out of a horror movie.

  “What in the-” Max mumbled, watching as the cat flew into trailer.

  What he didn’t see was his big dopey dog, loping after Gizmo like it was having the time of its afterlife.

  “Listen, Max. I appreciate you checking in on me. I got home fine,” she brushed him off. “I’ll see you around.”

  She turned and took a step back into the camper, but Max grabbed her arm to stop her.

  “Wait, that’s it?” He laughed.

  She turned to face him and he let her go. “Did you want something else?”

  He stepped toward her, a move that put him in her personal space as he stood in front of her.

  “I brought you coffee.” He motioned with his head to the Adirondack chairs. It was hard to look away from his face. She wasn’t sure if it was the way he was looking at her or how close he was standing throwing her for a loop. When she looked, she saw there was a coffee cup at each of the chairs. “Come have coffee with me for a minute before I have to go to work.” He took a step back and motioned for her to go ahead of him.

  She did, and they both settled into the same chairs they’d sat in just yesterday. Before everything went to shit.

  “Why didn’t you tell her?” Max asked.

  She sighed, knowing the conversation was inevitable. “Honestly?”

  “No lie to me,” he joked.

  Rosie shrugged. “I didn’t think it was my business.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be your business? You guys are friends.”

  She shrugged again, sure that trying to distinguish between boss and friends was misplaced.

  “Wouldn’t you want to know if someone was coming here and stealing from you when you weren’t around?”

  “Listen,” she told him. “I get it. I screwed up. I was trying to keep our relationship profe
ssional, and when I wasn’t paying attention, we became friends. I didn’t mean for that to happen.” She let out a sigh and dropped her head to the back of the chair. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

  “It’s probably hard for you to understand, but Wendy’s worked so hard to get where she is. She’s had a few bad relationships, plus this thing with Lisa now and you. Trust is a real issue with her.”

  Rosie was still stuck on the first part. “Why would it be hard for me to understand how hard she’s worked?”

  “I just mean,” his words faltered.

  “What?”

  “She’s built a business from the ground up. She’s worked really hard. That’s all.”

  “That’s not what you were going to say,” she accused.

  He sighed.

  She knew what he was trying to tell her. “What you’re saying is I wouldn’t understand hard work. I get it.”

  “No.” He waved her off. “I’m sure you know how to work hard. I’m just trying to tell you,”

  “That Wendy worked harder,” she clarified.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Guess you’ve got me pegged.” She stood quickly without looking at him. “It was nice of you to check up on me, but I can take care of myself.”

  “Rosie,” he started to say.

  “Thanks for the coffee.” Without looking at him again she went into the camper and shut the door, leaving the still steaming cup on the arm of her chair.

  It was a few minutes before she heard Max start his truck and go away.

  Didn’t know what hard work was? She wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She’d put on such a good show, Max had no idea who or what she was. He literally had no clue she was just some junkie’s crazy kid, born and bred on the streets. She’d started a new life from nothing, not even a set of her own clothes. She bet he had no idea how much hard work that took.

  It took her a second to ask herself why she'd want him to see her for who she really was anyway, or why she cared that he’d gotten her all wrong. She was just some kid no one missed. Happy Bancroft was nobody. It would do everyone good to keep it that way.

  5

  The days at work after her blowout with Wendy were strange. Lisa was gone, but Wendy hadn’t explained why, which had all the maids gossiping. She’d heard everything from Wendy and Lisa had been having a secret love affair to Lisa found new job and moved. She’d spied a few men in suits, in and out of Lisa’s office and assumed they'd been hired to look into things.

  Rosie followed her schedule and stayed out of Wendy's way. Things went smoothly until the day they ran into each other in the hall. Rosie was leaving the storage room at the same time Wendy came out of her office. She'd looked surprised at first but then the anger surfaced and she’d stormed off. After that, Rosie made sure to stock everything she needed before she went home in the morning.

  At the end of the week she worked her usual night shift and was riding her bike home, the roads dark but not dangerous. Rosie felt comfortable being on her own. She rounded a corner and standing in front of her was a woman, directly in the path of her bike. Middle-aged with dark hair was all she made out before the woman appeared closer, moving in the blink of an eye. Rosie swerved her bike, even dumped it on purpose to avoid the woman but it was impossible. Before she could do anything to stop it she slid directly into the woman.

  When her bike passed through her, Rosie knew she was in trouble. The woman was dead, a spirit, and Rosie’s body was on a collision course with it.

  There wasn't time to prepare for being under water. Her lungs burned, there was no air. She was going to die. She felt the grit of sand and pebbles forced down the back of her shirt and neck as she was pressed into the ground. Above, through a shallow layer of water she saw the tallest of trees surrounding her, sunlight filtering through them. She groped with her fingernails, clawing desperately at the hands that held her down by the neck, choking and drowning her. She was going to die. The eyes staring down at her were filled with anger and she could hear his muffled screaming. She kicked her feet, one last surge of energy but his grip never loosened and it wasn't enough. Her fingers still tried to move his hands, but she was too weak. She'd never go willingly, never let him know she gave up. So she kept grabbing at him and kicking her feet. She thrashed as long as she could until her lungs couldn’t burn anymore. Until the edges of her world became fuzzy and black. When it came, things were quieter and the water that lapped in her ears was soothing. She let it lull her into the nothingness.

  Dallas Hunter loved being a cop. He was a puzzle guy, loved to solve problems and get to the bottom of mysteries. He’d never imaged he’d become a police officer. Heck, when he was a kid he was in trouble more often than not but sometimes the cards fell and you got dealt a hand you weren’t expecting. At twenty-six, he was the second youngest of all his siblings and just about the most blue collar of them all. A small town cop wasn’t exactly what his parent’s had dreamt for him but they seemed happy, nonetheless.

  He’d grown up in Jacob’s Beach and wanted to make sure it stayed the same great town he knew and loved. That’s why he took his job so seriously and mentored kids that didn’t have good role models. It was why he volunteered at the rec center and coached a basketball team, to make sure every kid had the support to learn who they wanted to be.

  He didn’t even mind working a night shift once or twice a week. It gave him a chance to see who was out too late and which neighborhoods needed more patrolling. He was driving on the outskirts of town by Max’s place, when he spotted something in the road ahead of him. At first, it looked like some kind of white animal but the closer he got, the more his headlights illuminated the scene.

  “Oh, shit,” he muttered into the dark of his car. He grabbed his radio. "This is twenty-oh-fourteen.”

  “Go ahead, fourteen,” A voice echoed back to him.

  He spoke quickly. “I’m out on old highway thirteen by the Murphy Farm and I’ve got a woman down in the road. I'll be investigating. Requesting an ambulance at this time.”

  “Ten four, oh-fourteen.”

  He swung the door open and hurried over.

  “Shit. Shit,” he swore again when he got close enough to confirm it was Wendy’s friend Rosie.

  When he’d been close enough, her white hair tipped him off. He knelt and surveyed the scene. There was nothing in the road he could see that would have made her crash but her jeans look like they’d torn clean through at her calf and there was blood on her arm. He didn’t dare move her head in case she had a neck injury.

  “Rosie,” he called her name, trying to get her to come back around. “Rosie. Can you hear me?”

  There was blood in her hair and he tried to assess where it came from.

  “Come on, Rosie,” he said loudly. “Open your eyes. It’s Dallas. Remember me?”

  She shifted at the sound of his voice and let out a soft moan.

  “Don’t move, okay,” he told her. “An ambulance is on its way.”

  “I’m okay,” she croaked as she lifted her hand to hold her head. “Ow.”

  "Yeah, ow," he agreed. "Let’s let a professional take a look." He grabbed her hand and held it. “I’m going to stay right here with you, okay. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She turned to face him.

  “Don’t move around,” he told her. “Just in case you have a neck or spine injury.”

  Rosie looked up at him with eyes so unique and intense. There was a big patch of road rash on her cheek and her nose was bleeding like crazy.

  He smiled at her, making sure he didn’t freak her out by reacting to her injuries.

  “Your nose is bleeding, again. I’m going to get a complex if this keeps happening when we see each other.”

  She let out a little grunt and brought her free hand to her nose and pinched.

  “It happens,” she told him simply. “Can I sit up now?”

  “No. We’re waiting for the ambulance.” He could see the red
lights approaching. “They’re almost here. Want to tell me what happened?”

  “Something in the road,” she said quietly. “Possum maybe. I’m not sure.”

  An ambulance pulled up and two EMTs jumped out, ready to work.

  “What do we have, Hunter?” One of them asked as he jumped out of the rig, his partner right behind him, already unloading equipment from the back.

  “She crashed her bike. I found her here unconscious in the middle of the road.”

  “Conscious now though.” The EMT smiled down at Rosie. “We’re gonna take good care of you, okay honey.”

  “Rosie,” Dallas corrected. “Her name’s Rosie and she’s a friend of mine.”

  “Hi Rosie,” the other EMT said. “I’m just putting a neck brace on.” He knelt and got to work.

  “Is it possible to die of embarrassment?” Rosie asked, her eyes closed.

  He looked at the EMTs and they shared a smile.

  “We haven’t seen it yet,” the first one chuckled.

  “Uh, boss. You might want to take a look at this.” The one who’d been putting the neck brace on was staring at Rosie.

  Dallas watched him pull Rosie’s hair aside and gesture to her neck. He’d only ever seen that type of injury in a text book but he knew, without a doubt what the bloody, oozing scratches on Rosie’s neck were. They were a classic defensive wound, found most often on victims of choking, after they tried to pry the hands around their neck, off.

  “What the fuck is that, Rosie,” he asked, dropping to his knees next to her. “Did someone hurt you?”

  “Hunter,” one of the EMTs warned.

  “What is it?” she asked, her forehead crinkled.

  “Nothing, honey. Let’s get you on the backboard and see if we can’t get you cleaned up," the EMT smiled down at her then looked to Dallas. "You mind moving?"

  They got her strapped in while he went back to his cruiser. It took a moment to process the scene, her bike on the ground and the long skid mark left in her wake. Must have been one hell of a ride, he thought. It took him a few minutes to start writing his report and draw a diagram of the accident scene.