The Outskirts Duet

by T. M. Frazier

  Critter held up the photo and pointed to the woman. “Her,” he sighed heavily. When he spoke again his voice was scratchy. “You remind me of her.”

  And it made sense why.

  The woman…was my mother.

  Unable to take my eyes off the photo I sat at the bar. Critter stood on the other side and poured me my own drink. He slid three fingers of whiskey in front of me. “Here,” he said.

  “I don’t drink whiskey,” I said.

  “You do tonight,” he argued, downing the contents of his glass and slamming it down on the bar, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

  Critter plucked the photo from my hands. “I was wondering when you’d get here,” he said, but he wasn’t talking to me, he was talking to the picture.

  To my mother.

  “Those are the exact same words you said to me when I first met you,” I pointed out.

  Critter flashed me a sad smile that made my throat dry. “Those are also the exact same words I said to her when she first walked into my bar.”

  “That’s my mom,” I said. “But something tells me you already knew that. You lied to me.”

  “I omitted the truth,” Critter argued.

  I glared at him. “Yeah, I lied. I didn’t want to. Lord knows I hated every second of it. But I thought it was for the best.”

  “Tell me more,” I said, not wanting to get caught up in anything other than finding out more about my mother and her time in Outskirts.

  Critter chuckled and nodded his head. “Yeah. I know. I’ve always known. You’re just like her. She too went out of her way to point out the obvious.”

  I’m nothing like her. I wanted to argue, but I was too taken aback by the way he was talking about knowing my mom. A woman I didn’t even get to know on that kind of level.

  “Do you know why we call them tings?” Critter asked, pointing to the ceiling.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head and spinning my tumbler on the bar.

  “Your mom. She made up that name. She said a ting is the sound you hear when something happens in your life that will change it forever. Good or bad, big or small,” he smiled sadly. “Life is composed of thousands of tings and she wanted people to memorialize the ones they experienced here. Which is why we now hang tings from the ceiling.”

  “Wow,” I said, feeling confused and warmed by the knowledge that my mother had something to do with the twirling pieces of paper that have been blowing in the AC breeze above my head for weeks.

  Critter cleared his throat. “I know every single person in every picture up on those walls.” He looked at me and smiled. “You may not have her blonde hair and she didn’t have your freckles, but that face you’ve got there? That’s your mama through and through. Thought I was seeing a damned ghost when you first walked through my door.”

  “I wanted to tell you a million times about her. Caught myself about to tell you how much you reminded me of her about a thousand times. Like when you talk too fast when you’re nervous or bite your lip when you’re thinking of something to say. The truth is that I didn’t want to scare you off by dumping all this on you the second you got here. I wanted you to find your way. Thought you could get to know the town, get to know the people here.” He looked me in the eye. “Get to know me.”

  He pointed to the frame. “Maybe even HER, before I ran you off with tales of the past.” Critter looked to the door like he was remembering watching her walk through it for the first time all over again.

  Critter took the photo from my hands and slid it back into the frame which he leaned against the pillar on the bar like he wanted mom to be a part of the conversation.

  “So, tell me,” I started, “who exactly was my mom to you?”

  Critter leaned forward, resting his forearms on the bar. He laced his fingers together and stared at mom’s picture when he spoke. “Everything.” His eyes then found mine.

  “Your mother was everything to me.”

  “You might not think that your mother wasn’t strong enough because she never left that bastard who called himself your father, but you’re wrong. She did leave him. Once,” Critter explained. “Which was why she came here.”

  Critter knows about my father?

  I couldn’t even process that my mother would tell anyone about Father or the way he treated us. She never told anyone.

  Ever.

  “When?” Was all I could think to ask from the barrage of questions hitting me all at once.

  “A long time ago. Before you were born.” He looked around the bar like he was seeing it again for the first time. “When she came here.”

  “I…I didn’t know,” I whispered, mulling the revelation over in my head. “Mom never told me much about her past. All I know is what I got from a box she left for me, but besides the keys to the truck and camper and the deed, it was mostly trinkets.”

  “Makes sense. She was a very private woman. But when she came around I couldn’t help myself. I knew she was married, but while she was falling in love with the town…I was falling in love with her.”

  “Then the land she left me wasn’t just some late-night auction purchase on TV or a stopover. It was part of her life.” I looked up to Critter whose eyes were glistening.

  He smiled and looked up at the tings. “This place WAS her life.”

  “Why would she leave then if she loved it so much?”

  Critter looked to the ceiling at the hanging notes. “There’s one above the door dated May 6th, 1996. Go take a look.”

  I slowly slid off my stool and made my way over to the door. I glanced up and sorted through a bunch of them which were mostly drunken notes about the best night ever when I found the one dated May 6th 1996. It was in my mother’s distinctive cursive handwriting.

  I don’t have a choice.

  I’m so sorry.

  -Caroline

  I turned and walked back to Critter who had his back to me, leaning over the bar. I walked around and slid back onto my stool so that we were face to face again.

  “When she first left, I thought she decided to go back to him. To the church. I was devastated. But years later I found that behind the register when I was installing a new bar top. Must have fallen down. She was never great at attaching those damn things.” Critter sniffled. “I’ll tell you more.” He shook his head and rapped on the bar with his open palm. “Just give me a few minutes to…clear my head.”

  There was still so much I wanted to ask and Critter must have sensed it. “Just a few,” he repeated.

  “Okay.” I finally took a sip of the whiskey and coughed when the liquid burned my throat.

  “Thought you didn’t drink whiskey?” he asked. His eyes glimmered with unshed tears.

  “Tonight feels like a whiskey night,” I said, using his earlier words.

  “I’ll be right back.” Critter pointed to the back window and suddenly the time of reminiscing was over and my boss was back. “In the meantime, there are a bunch of new notes over by the window. Some rookie hanger didn’t have a clue how to use a stapler. Tack them back up for me would ya?”

  “Sure.” I took another sip of my drink and coughed again.

  Critter untied his apron, set it on the counter, and grabbed a full bottle of whiskey from the bar. He didn’t say another word before disappearing through the swinging doors. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

  I wanted to follow him and beg him to tell me more but the look on Critter’s face was heartbreaking and I knew he’d tell me more when he was ready although it had to have been over twenty years since my mother had been there, considering how old I was, and he wasn’t ready yet.

  I took my tumbler with me and shuffled over to a fallen note. I bent down to pick it up and pulled out a stool to attach it back to the ceiling and when I did I spotted three different tings all tangled together.

  I keep falling in love with the same moron.

  -Josh, a.k.a. The Hot Cop

  Cool kids don’t write the dates.

  I
got my friend back.

  We didn’t even need a friendervention.

  -Miller

  Cool kids still don’t write the dates.

  Today I invented the word ‘friendervention’.

  -Miller

  Even though my stomach was a pit reading Miller’s ting about Finn, I couldn’t help but chuckle at Josh’s and Miller’s tings about each other. They did love each other. It was a unique kind of love.

  Just like mine and Finn’s.

  His name in my thoughts was enough to make the pit in my stomach grow.

  It was easy to spot the other recently hung tings Critter mentioned. The string colors were still bright and hadn’t yet faded like a lot of the others. Plus, the ink on the paper was still dark and bold. Critter was right, there were a bunch of new ones. At least ten, all hung one after the other in a row and instead of tacked with a staple like all the others, these were flimsily held to the ceiling with small strips of clear tape.

  I grabbed the stapler from the bar and hopped up onto a chair which I slid across the floor. I tacked the first note to the ceiling when the air conditioning kicked on and the note fluttered around toward me. The message was at eye level.

  May 10th

  I saw the most beautiful girl ever.

  I was a complete dick to her.

  -Finn

  I gasped. The date was the day I came into town. But this wasn’t here then. I moved to the next one as my heart began to pound in my chest.

  May 20th

  I kissed her for the first time.

  I don’t think I’ll ever stop thinking about her lips…

  -Finn

  My eyes stung with forming tears as I continued.

  June 15th

  I made her smile.

  Freckles became my new favorite thing in the world.

  -Finn

  June 25th

  I made her MINE.

  -Finn

  I felt the tears pouring down my cheeks by the time I read the last one which I plucked from the ceiling and dropped down on the chair to read over and over again as the tears continued to fall.

  Date: Unsure exactly when

  I fell in love with Sawyer Dixon

  -Finn

  The swinging doors from the kitchen creaked open and that feeling of awareness I used to think was dread but now associated with Finn flitted down my spine. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever come back,” I said, turning with happy tears still spilling down my face, fully prepared to jump from the chair and into Finn’s arms, only to come face to face with Critter who had an apologetic smile on his face.

  Critter ducked under the bar and I jumped down from the chair I’d been standing on. “What’s going on?” I asked when Critter poured himself half a tumbler of whiskey and downed it all in two gulps.

  “Are you going to tell me the rest of the story?”

  “It’s not my story to tell,” Critter said.

  I was growing frustrated. “If it’s not your story to tell, then whose is it?”

  “It’s mine,” said a familiar voice from the kitchen. I looked to Critter whose face was unreadable. I slowly turned, wondering if the voice was imaginary but when my eyes landed on the person standing between the swinging doors, I suddenly forgot how to breathe.

  No. It can’t be.

  The woman folded her hands in front of her and took a reluctant step into the bar. She smiled sweetly.

  “Hello, Sawyer.”

  My. Heart. Stopped.

  “Mother?”

  THE END…FOR NOW

  The Outliers is the second and final book in The Outskirts duet, and the conclusion to Sawyer and Finn’s love story.

  THE OUTLIERS

  BOOK TWO

  Prologue

  Love.

  It isn’t logical.

  It doesn’t grow or shrink on demand.

  It’s unexpected. Unyielding.

  Love can be your greatest lover or your greatest enemy.

  It makes no apologies when it feeds off the lie of forgiveness.

  Love will fight the world even if it has no chance of winning.

  It’s the excuse and the reason.

  The sacrifice and the reward.

  The pain and the disappointment.

  Love.

  The ultimate betrayal.

  Chapter 1

  Sawyer

  My mother was standing a few feet away.

  My mother.

  Living. Breathing.

  I couldn't catch my breath. My mind raced with possibilities, none of which made any sense.

  I mean, it looked like her. But it also didn’t look like her. It was something in her eyes, or maybe, something lacking in her eyes.

  She took a small shuffled step toward me but since I didn't know what the proper protocol was when a ghost tries to touch you I leapt backward and knocked over a chair behind me, almost going down with it.

  I was in an alternate universe. That had to be it. One where people came back from the dead. This couldn't of been real. Maybe it was all a dream. Or maybe it was the whiskey.

  Disbelief, doubt, and utter confusion were all mashing together in my gut, pushing upward on my racing heart and snaking its way into my tight throat.

  I was afraid that if I blinked she would go away. I was afraid that if I didn’t blink she wouldn’t go away.

  I—I couldn't do much of anything except gape at the woman who looked and sounded exactly like my mother. Only—it couldn't have been.

  Could it?

  "It's not possible," I said in a shocked whisper. "It's just not." I shook my head, wondering if I’d gone crazy before or after arriving in Outskirts.

  "It's possible. She's really here.” Critter’s deep baritone voice was usually calming—the vocal equivalent of aloe vera. But in that moment there wasn't anything he could’ve said to stop hands from shaking or my palms from sweating.

  "This ain't no dream, Sawyer. She's here. She’s just as alive as you and me." I glanced up at him to find him watching me—gauging my reaction. "I told her she needed to hold off until she was stronger, but she wanted to see you and when she's all there, like she was this morning, there is no talking her out of it."

  A tall, robust woman with broad square shoulders and short black hair appeared at my mother's side. The scowl on her face didn't match the bright pink scrubs with large, happy face print. "This is not good for her, Mr. Critter," the woman said. "I need to take her back to the house."

  It was then I realized my mother hadn't moved since she'd first said my name. Her stare was blank and unfocused on the back wall.

  "No, wait!" I called out. Suddenly I was more afraid I’d never get the chance to see her again, than I was of touching a ghost. And what if she was a ghost? What if this was all a dream? It didn’t matter. She was still my mother and I couldn’t let her go. Not yet. Not even in a dream.

  I threw my arms around her and much to my surprise I connected with soft warm flesh.

  My mother's arms were limp at her side, hanging lifelessly against her body. "My girl," she whispered.

  I pulled back just in time to see a small smile form on her lips. It faded into a straight line just as quickly as it had appeared.

  "What's wrong?" I asked on a strangled cry. Mother didn't answer. I turned to Critter. "What's wrong with her!" I demanded to know.

  "Come on. It's time to go," the nurse said, scooping my mother up and cradling her in her arms like she weighed no more than a small child.

  "What was I supposed to do, Maddy? Tie her to the goddamn bed?" Critter asked the nurse. "Never could say no to her." He grumbled, rubbing his temples.

  "What's going on?" I demanded, glancing between the nurse and Critter. I took a step back while my mind raced. I held onto a table when I grew dizzy. "How is this possible?"

  My mother moaned, and the nurse carried her out the back door. i followed with Critter close behind. We watched as the nurse placed my mother into an awaiting van, expertly buckl
ing her into her seat.

  Critter walked up to the open door and the nurse moved to make room for him. He stroked his hand lovingly over my mother's face. "It's okay. We'll get you home now so you can rest."

  My mother didn't respond. "I'll come see you later, my love." Critter kissed her on the forehead, sighed, then turned back to Maddy. "Take her home. I'll follow soon." He shut the door gently and rapped on the window. He watched the van take off, and was still watching it long after it had disappeared from sight.

  "Where is she taking her?" I asked, feeling panic coursing through me at the idea of not knowing where she'd be as they drove off. “Where is home?”

  "Home is my house," Critter answered, before quickly correcting himself. “Our house.” He scratched his head and finally turned around. “Where she was always meant to be."

  Where she was meant to be.

  Critter placed a hand on my shoulder. I jumped back as if he'd shocked me instead of trying to comfort me. He looked to the ground. "I know you have a lot of questions..."

  "Questions?" I asked, and without realizing it I started to laugh. A high pitched awful sounding laugh like a sound you’d hear an animal make at night but couldn’t tell exactly what kind of animal. “Questions seems much too small of a word right now.”

  "I'm sorry I didn't tell you when you first got here," Critter continued, ignoring my outburst. "But your mother was in such rough shape that I didn't want you to have to grieve her twice if things didn’t…if she…fuck.” He took a deep breath. “I never gave any thought to the condition she'd be in when I got her back. I was stupid enough to assume she'd just be herself like she'd been before. I should have known better. You don't spend two decades with a man like Richard Dixon and come out whole on the other end." He looked at me and winced, realizing what he'd just said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…you, your…”