Rocky Road

by Melanie Doweiko

  “Alexandra Patton,” she says with a bow, “owner and proprietor of this fine establishment. How may I assist you?”

  “I don’t need ‘assistance,’” Cass says, glare deepening. “What I need is a stupid electric guitar so I can get the hell out of your stupid ‘establishment.’”

  “Electric guitar? Hmmmm . . . ” Alexandra thinks for a moment, hand on her chin and elbow resting in her other hand. Cass didn’t think anyone outside of cartoons and TV shows thought in that position. “I’m afraid we don’t have any, at the moment,” she says. “However—”

  She is cut off by Cass brandishing the broom again, pointing it so that it’s nearly touching Alexandra’s lips. “Say that again,” Cass says, anger boiling in her tone.

  “That again,” Alexandra says.

  Cass resists the urge to smack her with the broom. “Don’t be coy with me, lady, you know what I meant!”

  Alexandra doesn’t seem fazed by the potential violence held in Cass’s hand. “We may not have any electric guitars, at the moment, but I believe I can find you something—”

  “Nope! Shut up,” Cass says, cutting her off again. “That’s all I needed to hear or know. Thank you.” Her tone does not hold any true thankfulness and the smile she flashes at Alexandra is the furthest thing from genuine. It soon morphs back into a frown accompanied by a glare and she turns around to assess her path out. “Stupid . . . ” she mutters as she begins to use the broom to push her chair backwards.

  Alexandra cocks her head. “You’re a very rude child,” she says, as if Cass is just the latest curiosity that has been pedaled through her door.

  “Does it look like I care?” Cass says, not turning back to look at her.

  Alexandra watches Cass struggle for a moment longer before using her long legs to step around and through the debris in Cass’s way and end up in Cass’s way again. “Allow me,” Alexandra says. She takes hold of the handles on Cass’s wheelchair.

  For a second, Cass feels as if she’s lost all control. Her grip tightens on the broom and she doesn’t hesitate to smack one of Alexandra’s hands with the handle. Alexandra jumps back in an exaggerated way that would be comical if Cass was in a comedic mood. As it is, she is brandishing the broom again, her knuckles almost white, keeping it between Alexandra and her chair.

  “Don’t you touch me!” she growls. “You aren’t allowed to do that!” Cass thought this road trip would help her get away from treatment like this.

  Alexandra blinks, rubbing her hand, then dips into another bow. “My deepest apologies,” she says. Cass nearly drops the broom. Normally, she would have to keep fighting after something like that, if not with fists then with words. No one had ever just accepted the situation before.

  “It would appear as if I have been ignorant,” Alexandra says. “Do carry on and shout if you need me.” She flits away and disappears somewhere behind a rack of cloaks.

  Cass lowers the broom, watching the space, unsure how to feel.

  She decides that the woman is still annoying and continues to back out.

  Shawna admires herself in the mirror. The dress is a perfect fit, which is probably the most shocking thing about it. She’s had the experience time and again: she finds the most perfect article of clothing, tries it on, and it’s too big here or there, or too small in other places. She has an odd body type, she supposes, or at least one of the millions that clothing designers refuse to acknowledge.

  She strikes a pose and hears applause. Alexandra is behind her in the mirror, a grin on her face. “It’s gorgeous! Perfect! Superb!” she says. “You bring out all the best qualities in one another.”

  Shawna blushes and looks down at the dress, brushing imaginary dust off. “Thank you,” she says with a giggle.

  As she looks back into the mirror, striking another pose, she hears a distant “Shaaaawwwnnaaa!” She turns towards the sound, brow furrowed. That sounded like Cass, an angry and annoyed Cass, no less. She hops, skips, and jumps over second-hand items to get to the staircase. Alexandra is not far behind.

  Cass is at the bottom, glaring up. As she looks Shawna up and down, the glare deepens. “Have you been playing dress up? What the heck, Shawna?” she says.

  Shawna looks down at the dress, embarrassed now that she remembers what she came in for and how much time she wasted with this. She feels Alexandra’s hands on her shoulders, supporting her in a way.

  “Your friend was simply—” Alexandra begins.

  “Hey!” Cass cuts her off. “I already told you, I didn’t wanna hear it!” She gives Alexandra the same up-and-down treatment she’d just given Shawna. “How many of those ugly suits have you got?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t call them ugly,” Alexandra’s voice says, but not from behind Shawna.

  Cass jumps and brandishes the broom. Alexandra, gold and black paisley suit and all, is standing right next to her.

  “Wh-hat the . . .? Huh?” Cass holds her broom at the ready and glances between the two Alexandras until her expression falls into one of annoyed realization. “Twins,” she says, lowering the broom.

  “Oh, so you run this shop with your sister, then?” Shawna asks with a smile, not as phased as Cass seems to be. Twins aren’t exactly a phenomenon.

  “Yes,” both women say at the same time.

  Shawna giggles and starts down the stairs. Cass cringes away.

  “So, what’s your name, then?” Shawna asks of the gold-suited twin.

  “Alexandra Patton, at your service,” she says with a bow.

  Shawna pauses her descent and turns back to the rainbow-suited twin. “Wait, but I thought your name was—” she begins, but Cass cuts her off.

  “Shawna, we need to leave. Like, now,” she says.

  Shawna continues her descent and, once next to Cass, informs her in a low voice that she’s being weird.

  “Oh, I’m the weird one in this situation?” Cass says in a not-so-low voice. Shawna flashes the Patton twins an apologetic smile on Cass’s behalf. Cass continues to glare at them.

  “Hey, guys!” Rev’s cheerful voice chimes in from behind them. Everyone turns to see her stumbling towards them with an acoustic guitar in one hand. “Guys, look what I . . . Oh.” She pauses, glancing between the two Alexandras. Shawna and Cass follow Rev’s gaze as she turns back to see a third Alexandra wearing a blue paisley suit, following behind Rev at a leisurely pace.

  “Um . . . ”

  “I thought you said you were twins?” Cass says, turning back to the other two.

  “Oh, no, no, no,” the rainbow-suited one says. “You said we were twins.”

  “We say that we’re triplets!” the gold-suited one says.

  “There’s not a quadruplet gonna come poppin’ out of a closet is there?” Cass says, pushing open a nearby closet with her broom. When it reveals nothing but shelving full of bird sculptures, she lets out a relieved breath, then swings the handle of the broom around to point at Shawna. “Pay for your crap and let’s get the hell out of this creepy death trap!”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say we’re creepy!” the blue-suited triplet says.

  “More . . . eccentric!” the rainbow-suited triplet says with a sly smile.

  Shawna sees something snap in Cass. Whatever she had to deal with while she was down here on her own, shoving things out of the way with a broom, this comment is the last straw.

  “You’re creepy! Creepy is what you are!” Cass says, pointing at the Alexandras. Both Shawna and Rev give Cass a look, but Cass doesn’t seem to care.

  Shawna heads back upstairs for her clothes and wallet, feeling the need to leave lest Cass starts smacking someone with that broom.

  “Who gives all their kids the same name, anyway, huh?” Cass says, still pointing at the women. “Y’all are either lying or you come from a really weird and creepy family!”

  “Cass, shut up,” Rev says, hand over her eyes in annoyance.

  “Me shut up? You shut up, Ms. ‘I Forgot My Guitar at Home’!”

 
Rev cringes.

  “You didn’t even find the right thing in here!” Cass says, pointing to the acoustic Rev is subtly trying to hide behind her back. “You’re just—”

  “That’s enough, Cass, seriously,” Shawna says, returning. Cass glares at her, but grumbles and stops shouting. Shawna pays the rainbow-suited Alexandra for her dress and the guitar and the broom, knowing that no one is going to be able to pry it out of Cass’s death grip and that Cass isn’t going to put it down willingly until the shop is long behind them. The total comes to only ten dollars. One Hamilton. What kind of business model do these ladies have that allows them to sell this stuff so cheap?

  “I’m sorry about her,” Shawna whispers.

  Cass smacks her with the broom. “I said move it! Come on, ladies, hop to!” Cass says. She sweeps the girls out the door.

  “Come again soon!” the gold-suited Alexandra says, her tone amused and smug.

  “Screw you!” Cass shouts, and slams the door behind them.

  “AM I SERIOUSLY THE ONLY ONE OF US WHO thought that was weird?” Cass asks. Shawna is driving, back in her normal clothes. The dress and the broom are lying next to one another in the back of the van and Rev is plucking out a stiff tune on the acoustic.

  “It was a second-hand store. A family-owned one. They’re full of weird stuff,” Shawna says.

  “Not like that!” Cass says. “That was some . . . some kinda Greek myth death-trap thing.”

  “You’re just upset that we spent so much time in there,” Shawna says.

  “Oh, and whose fault is that?” she says sarcastically. “Hmmm, I wonder.” She turns back to glare at Rev. Rev matches the glare and plays a wrong note on purpose.

  “Okay, okay,” Shawna says, “let’s just focus on what’s important. We gotta get Rev a guitar that she can play on stage.”

  “Right, because we have the money and the time to do more shopping. We’ve already wasted three hours and we’re still in Wisconsin!” Cass says, folding her arms and turning to glare out the window.

  “We’ll figure something out,” Shawna says, beginning to feel unsure herself.

  An hour of driving and uncomfortable silence passes between the bandmates. Shawna has never seen pea soup, herself, but she’s heard rumors of its thickness and is willing to bet that the tension in the car is about as thick, penetrated only by occasional soft notes from Rev’s new acoustic. After a while, low, distant music joins it.

  “Hey, Shawna, can you turn the radio off?” Rev asks. “I’m trying to think through a tune and it’s distracting me.”

  “Hey, Shawna, can you turn the radio up? I’m trying to listen but Rev’s annoying voice is distracting me,” Cass says.

  “Hey, Shawna, can you tell Cass to go shove a—” Rev starts.

  As Shawna reaches out to turn the radio up to full volume in an effort to drown them both out, she notices something. “It’s not the radio,” she says before Rev can finish.

  “What?” Rev asks.

  “It’s not even on,” Shawna says.

  The bandmates roll down the windows and, sure enough, the music gets louder. They stick their heads out and it gets louder still. Alternative rock, wafting towards them on the rush of the wind.

  “Where’s it coming from?” Rev asks.

  Her question is answered as the van crests a hill and traffic stops. A multitude of people have gathered in a park a little way down the road. Cars surround it on all sides, blocking any hope for street parking. A cop in an orange vest is directing traffic at the intersection just before the park.

  As they approach her, Shawna can’t help her curiosity. “What’s going on?” she asks.

  “Big concert,” the officer says. “Some kind of charity thing or something.”

  “What charity?” Shawna asks.

  “I don’t know, girl, I just direct the traffic. Move along, now,” the officer says.

  Shawna does so, a little annoyed at the woman’s tone, but as the music gets louder, she finds that she can’t stay that way. It’s enchanting, in a rock-’n’-roll way. She wants to get closer, to be inspired, to see who’s singing. It sounds like a woman.

  Cass snaps right next to her face. “Hey, let’s get a move on. We got places to be,” she says.

  “Maybe we can just go in for a few minutes?” Rev pipes in from the back seat. She’s resting her head on the windowsill and seems to be just as enchanted by the music as Shawna.

  “Are you two kidding me?” Cass says.

  “Come on,” Shawna says. “You love loud music and crazy crowds. Might help us unwind a bit.” God knows, they all need it. Shawna doesn’t think she likes the taste of pea soup. Besides, the gig is tomorrow night. They have time to get there. Right?

  “Do I have to tie you both to the mast?” Cass says, “’Cause that’s a siren song if I ever heard one! Eating away our precious time and your common sense!”

  “You’re still stressed because of the thrift store,” Rev mumbles.

  “No, I’m not!” Cass says, turning back to glare at her. “I’m weirded out by and pissed about the thrift store!”

  “It’ll be five minutes,” Shawna says.

  “Five minutes never means five minutes, especially when you say it like that about something like this,” Cass says. “You know what? If you two idiots want to waste whatever time we have left, then fine! Go ahead! I’ll just leave without you!”

  “No, you won’t,” Shawna says.

  “Yes, I will,” Cass says.

  Cass grumbles to herself in the midst of the crowd, trying her best not to enjoy the music and the people. Shawna was right: loud music and loud crowds are her thing, and this concert is both. The people—a majority of whom seem to be women, actually—are having the time of their lives. They’re dancing, screaming along to the music, and someone is even crowd surfing.

  Cass wants to crowd surf. But no. She can’t give in. She has to stay bitter and stubborn. Her body, traitor that it is, though, is nodding along to the beat.

  “Come on, Cass!” Shawna says, dancing by with a huge smile. “Join in! You know you’ll love it!”

  Cass turns her nose up and refuses to answer.

  “YOU ALL HAVIN’ A GOOD TIME?” the singer, an Asian woman with short, spiked-up black hair, shouts into the mic. The crowd cheers.

  “Let’s hear that roar again!” She points the mic at the crowd, which obliges her. Some even let out animal roars. Cass continues to sit with her arms folded, glaring at some space ahead of her. As much as she loves seeing kick-butt Asian girls like her on stage, she’s too annoyed with the situation to celebrate it.

  The singer squints into the crowd. Cass looks up at her for a second, and she can swear that the singer is squinting right at her.

  “Hey, you there,” she says into the mic, “in the chair. You doin’ alright?” She sounds concerned, genuinely so, and the crowd turns to try and find who she’s talking to.

  Cass clenches her teeth. “No!” she shouts, wondering if she’s pitying her because of the wheelchair and hating her for it. She wants to leave, to get to the gig, to have a crowd of her own to shout to, to be cheered for because she got a crowd’s hearts going with a drumbeat instead of being pitied by one. She can feel the looks this crowd is giving her. Pity is palpable, and she hates it. She hates this crowd, but she keeps her glare on the singer. This woman, the one who owns them. She can direct their attention in any way she chooses, and she decided to direct it at Cass.

  Cass is not going to make it easy for her.

  “Hey, why don’t you come on up here, then, kiddo? Tell us something about yourself,” the singer says.

  The crowd cheers and clears a path, but no matter how hard they try to hide it, the pity is still obvious. This is not the first time, and it won’t be the last, so Cass moves to wheel forward.

  Shawna puts a hand on her shoulder and gives her a thumbs-up. She knows what’s about to happen. It’s happened before. Even Rev is giving her an approving look.


  The singer may control the crowd, but she doesn’t control Cass. When this is all over, that stage isn’t going to belong to her anymore.

  She wheels up to the stage and bumps against it on purpose. “Wow,” she says, deadpan, “no ramps. How surprising.”

  The surprise and confusion that flashes across the singer’s face puts a small smirk on Cass’s. That’s right, lady, she thinks, I ain’t your average inspiration porn.

  The singer regains her crowd-pleasing smile (one with a hint of pity in it; God how Cass hates the pity) and hops down from the stage.

  “Stooping to my level?” Cass says, sarcasm still strong in her voice. “Aw, you shouldn’t have.”

  Another flash of confusion crosses the singer’s face, but she continues on. “What’s your name and pronouns, kid?” she asks and sticks the mic in Cass’s face. Cass takes it right out of her hands.

  “Cass,” she says. “She, her, hers. What about you, adult?” She sticks the mic in the singer’s face, thriving off of her confusion, but there’s something else in her expression. Is she . . . impressed?

  “Suki Gradstein,” she says. “She, her, hers.” She smiles. The crowd cheers. She’s still in control.

  “Tell me, Suki Gradstein, why did you call me up here?” Cass asks. She sticks the mic in her face again.

  “You didn’t seem like you were havin’ a good time,” Suki says.

  “Yeah, well, that’s because my friends are idiots.” Cass can hear distant boos from Shawna and Rev, but ignores them. “But why did you really call me up here?”

  “I wanted to see what I could do to help . . . ” She sounds unsure, like she’s starting to realize that Cass has something up her sleeve and is nervous for the reveal.

  “So, what?” Cass says. “I get up here, spill my tragic life story, we sing a song or you make a donation or something, and the crowd gets to say, ‘Gee willikers! That Suki Gradstein sure was great with that poor disabled kid! She’s such a good, kindhearted person isn’t she?’” Cass pauses to listen to the uncomfortable murmuring of the crowd. “Do you see where I’m goin’ with this?” She sticks the mic in Suki’s face again.