Romeo Fails

by Amy Briant

  Dorsey shrugged or nodded, she wasn’t quite sure which. She felt weak and confused, and unable to meet Sarah’s gaze.

  Sarah leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’ll call you,” she whispered.

  Did she really mean that? Or was it big-city-speak for “I won’t call you, because you’re not what I’m looking for and we’re done.”?

  Dorsey watched the VW’s taillights fade in the distance. She felt suddenly exhausted, desperately tired and aching in both mind and body.

  The drive back to town seemed impossibly long and dreary. There was nothing and no one waiting for her there anyhow. She still had her key to the Bartholomews’ house, but couldn’t stand the thought of going inside. She would sleep on their deck that night, she decided, under the stars. She had an old blanket in the truck and there were cushions on the deck furniture. The Bartholomews would never know and her brothers wouldn’t miss her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next few weeks passed in agonizing slow motion. Dorsey went to work, and walked and talked, but on the inside, she was dying. She had too much pride to just lock herself in her basement bedroom and turn out the lights, even if that was what part of her longed to do. What little strength she had, she put into keeping her mind a blank. She did her best to not think at all.

  Sarah had said she would call, but Dorsey hadn’t really believed her. And she hadn’t called. Not yet, at least… And Dorsey was too proud to make the call herself. Again with the pride. Is that all I have left? she asked herself when she allowed herself to think at all, which wasn’t often. It hurt too much to think.

  As mad as she was at both Sarah and Maggie, she couldn’t help but miss them, especially with no other friends to support her. It seemed so unfair that they still got to have each other, while she had lost both of them. She saw their cars on Main Street from time to time. She’d come face to face with Maggie at the grocery store one day. Maggie was coming out the door with a full cart as Dorsey turned the corner to go in. Both stopped and stared for a moment. Neither spoke. After a few more seconds, Dorsey turned on her heel and left. She made Shaw do the shopping after that.

  She hadn’t talked to her brothers about what had happened, but both seemed to know through that strange small-town osmosis that spreads the news, both good and bad. Both were walking on eggshells around her, but she was too numb with pain to care. She wondered if Sarah was as angry with her as she was with Sarah. It was all so unfair. So screwed up.

  Her woodworking was suffering as well. The dining room table and chairs she’d been working on in the woodshop were gathering dust. She couldn’t summon the concentration or the will to finish the project. None of it seemed to matter anymore. Not without Sarah.

  She got through the grinding misery of the days and the hell of the nights somehow. She saw no end to the agony, but something in her told her she had to persevere. Had to keep going, no matter what.

  She came home one Friday night to find Goodman at the kitchen table, a pile of account books and paperwork pushed to one side. He looked upset, which wasn’t surprising if he’d been working on the books. A mostly empty six-pack of beer sat in front of him, which was surprising. Good wasn’t much of a drinker. She quickly counted. Despite his size, if that was beer number four in his hand, he was probably drunk.

  “Good?” she said tentatively. “You okay?”

  He looked up and seemed to have a hard time focusing on her for a moment. He squinted. “Hey, Dorshey!” he cried.

  Yep, he was drunk. She sat down at the table with him and grabbed one of the two remaining bottles. She felt like getting drunk herself, but she knew it would only make her feel worse. One beer, then off to bed, she told herself. And tomorrow would be another day. And then another and another and another…all of them without Sarah. The knowledge stabbed in her mind like a ragged sliver of glass.

  “How’s it going?” she asked her brother. Anything to take her mind off her broken heart.

  “Ahhh, that fuckin’ home center in Grover. Taking all our business. Bastards.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed.

  There wasn’t much else to say about that. They both knew the home center was probably going to put Larue’s Swingtime Hardware out of business sooner or later unless something big changed. And that didn’t seem likely. Good had tried everything he could think of, but the bottom line was always the same—they were being undersold by the competition and losing more business every day because of it. They had hopes that the upcoming annual Downtown Merchants Moonlight Madness sale would provide a temporary boost to profits, but they both knew that was all it would be—temporary.

  “Oh, what does it matter anyway?” Good groaned. “You’re going to leave, Shaw’s going to leave. I’ll be stuck here in this damn town forever.”

  “You love this town, Good.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted, assenting.

  “Besides, I’m not going anywhere. And neither is Shaw, as far as I can tell.”

  “Why not?” Good asked her. “Why don’t you just get the hell out of here? I mean, what do you do all those sit-ups for anyhow?”

  Dorsey stared at him, not expecting this turn to the conversation and not exactly understanding his point. He went on, his words only a little slurred from the alcohol. Maybe he wasn’t as drunk as she thought. She provisionally upgraded him to tipsy.

  “There’s too many goddamn small-minded people here, Dorsey. You know that better than I do. And you deserve to be happy, Dorse. They’ll never let you be happy here. Never. They’re too ignorant and brainwashed and hateful for that.”

  He slammed his empty bottle down on the table almost hard enough to break it and opened the last one, downing half of it in one gulp. She was shocked. And amazed. She had never known he saw the town that way—the same way she did. Not Goodman, the big ol’ friendly bear, the football hero, the guy you could always count on when you needed a hand.

  “But Good,” she protested, “I can’t just leave you and Shaw and the store. I mean, come on—what would you guys do without me?” She didn’t mention the workshop, but she knew Good understood what it meant to her.

  Good answered her seriously. “I love you, Dorse. You’re my sister. I love having you here. You know that. But this is no kind of life for you. And—no offense—but I could always hire somebody to help at the store if either you or Shaw left. If you wanted to leave.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. She had never heard him talk like this before. She wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or…or what. Maybe it was just the booze talking. He probably wouldn’t even remember this in the morning, she thought.

  Goodman had one last comment for her. “You should just be happy, Dorse…you deserve it,” he said again. His head sank down on the table, his big arms encircling it. “Happy,” she heard him mumble again.

  It was funny. Sarah had told her the same thing, that she deserved to be happy. And maybe Good was right—maybe she should leave. She could totally see herself in some big city somewhere, starting a brand-new life. Even without Sarah, she could see herself doing that. Excitement started to bubble up within her as she pictured it. But…the woodshop. It always came back to that. She couldn’t imagine her life without her woodshop. And she couldn’t take it with her. She was so tired and so frustrated with her brain going around and around in circles and always ending up in the same place. Stuck. She hated feeling that way. Why couldn’t she just resign herself to it and get over it? She was born in Romeo Falls, she’d probably die in Romeo Falls. Alone and miserable.

  Goodman had drifted off to sleep. A noise like a giant bumblebee trapped in a tuba was now emanating from him. She pried the beer bottle from his hand and draped the chenille throw from the back of the living room sofa over his shoulders.

  “Good night, Good,” she said as she turned to go down the stairs to her room for another sleepless night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The plan was finally complete. It had taken awhile, but the who, the what, t
he where and the when were now decided. The what to burn had been the hardest choice—so many possibilities. But then things got real clear. It was perfect. The moment would come later that night, when no one was watching. A spark, a flame…and then an inferno. Was it too risky to stick around and watch for a while? Pretending to be part of the inevitable crowd of onlookers would certainly be delicious. Faking the look of shocked concern would be a hoot. But then it would be time to finally disappear. To leave Romeo Falls forever. Leave all those bastards behind…

  It was time.

  * * *

  Moonlight Madness was in full swing at eight thirty on Saturday night. Dorsey and Goodman had been up to their elbows in customers throughout the evening, even if most of the purchases had been small-ticket items. The crowd was starting to thin out, though, as most people made their way to the town square. A bluegrass band from Grover City was playing a concert there after the stores closed at nine o’clock. Food vendors and local community groups had set up stands and tables around the square, so a carnival atmosphere prevailed. Even the weather had cooperated—clear skies and a gorgeous moon lit up the night.

  “Is there a reason I’m here and Shaw is not?” Dorsey asked Good during a brief lull in the fray. She stooped tiredly to straighten out the duct tape display a toddler had found irresistible with its multicolored rolls of tape. George and Ira had taken refuge from the throng on top of a tall cabinet at the end of aisle three. George was visibly irritated by this change in his routine, his tail whipping back and forth. Moonlight Madness had taken place the same weekend every year of his life, but every year he was pissed off, nonetheless.

  “He asked and you didn’t,” Goodman told her. “So I let him off early. I think he’s got another date with his new lady friend.”

  “Who is that, by the way?” Dorsey asked him, still curious even in the midst of her own romantic disaster.

  “I don’t know,” Goodman said with a shrug, “but I think he’s getting serious.”

  Dorsey had to wince at that. She’d been trying so hard to keep Sarah out of her thoughts. She hadn’t had much success, but Good’s words somehow brought her feelings right to the surface. As fresh and as painful as ever. When would she ever get past this? she wondered.

  “Sorry, Dorse,” Goodman said sympathetically. He could tell she was hurting. “Have you—heard anything from her?”

  It was the first time he’d directly asked her about her breakup with Sarah.

  “No,” she said shortly.

  “But you and Maggie are talking again, right?” he said hopefully.

  “Nope,” she again said shortly. She busied herself with the duct tape more than was truly necessary. This conversation was taking her to the brink of tears and that was a place she’d been too often recently.

  “You should call Maggie,” her brother said, not letting it go. Which was somewhat unusual for Goodman. He was the older brother, it was true, but he was usually pretty good about minding his own business.

  Dorsey was saved from having to answer by the jangling of the bell on the front door of the hardware store as someone threw it violently open. They both looked to see who had come in. Officer Gargoyle stood in the doorway, in uniform and looking agitated. They could hear the bluegrass band warming up in the distance, and something else as well. A siren.

  “Goodman! Dorsey!” Gargoyle yelled at them urgently. “Your house is on fire!”

  * * *

  Dorsey sprinted the five blocks to her house. Both her truck and Goodman’s were blocked in the alley behind the store by another merchant’s vehicle. The overflow crowds for Moonlight Madness meant that all the legal parking spaces, and most of the illegal ones too, were full that night as the entire town and much of the surrounding countryside converged on Romeo Falls for the festivities. Officer Gargoyle was on foot patrol in the square, but got the call on her radio from Luke to alert the Larues.

  Dorsey and Goodman had gaped at each other for a frozen second after Gargoyle’s proclamation. Fear lurched in Dorsey’s stomach as she realized she didn’t know where Shaw was—was he safe? Was he home?

  “Shaw…” she said in a faltering voice as she looked over at Goodman.

  “Go,” he told her. “I’ll lock up and be right behind you. Go, Dorsey—now!”

  She ran out the door and down the street toward their house—the home that had been in their family for three generations. The night sky was eerily lit up with red and orange in that direction. The town’s only fire engine passed her as she reached the corner of Main and Scott, the street they lived on. Other people were running now too, drawn by the smoke and commotion. She passed at least one middle-aged volunteer fireman who was huffing and puffing as she raced down the sidewalk. A small group of people was already gathered in the street near their house and in the yard of the home next door. Neighbors. Luke, with his back turned to her. Some kids on their bikes.

  And Shaw! He was talking to Luke, partially screened by the large frame of the police chief. They both saw her coming and put out their arms to stop her as if she might run right on past them and straight into the blaze.

  “Shaw,” she gasped, skidding to a halt and grabbing one of his arms and one of Luke’s as well. She bent over, about ready to pass out from lack of oxygen.

  “Dorsey! Where’s Good?”

  Too out of breath to speak, she somehow mimed to the two of them that Goodman was on his way. With her breath returning and her mind vastly relieved to find her younger brother alive and unharmed, Dorsey turned her attention to the house. Which actually did not appear to be on fire upon closer inspection. Thick black smoke was rolling off the workshop, however, and flames were visibly dancing within. A window shattered as they watched. The firemen were pumping water on the blaze, but the small building was clearly fully engaged. The fire crackled and roared furiously, despite the efforts of the firefighters.

  “Oh, no,” Dorsey said in a voice not much above a whisper. “Oh, Shaw…”

  Her brother put his arm around her shoulders and drew her close as they watched the destruction from the street. They both knew the workshop was full of combustible materials—not only the wood for Dorsey’s projects, but turpentine, cans of paint, gasoline for the lawn mower… Dorsey knew she should be glad the house wasn’t burning, but the loss of the workshop—on top of everything else—was almost more than she could bear. Her eyes filled with tears, but she couldn’t let herself cry in front of all those people. Although why she should care about their opinions, she didn’t know. A patrol car screeched to a halt behind the fire engine. Goodman and Officer Gargoyle jumped out and ran over to them.

  Luke held out a handkerchief to Dorsey, which she gratefully accepted.

  Seeing both his siblings there, Goodman said calmly, “You all right, Shaw?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “How…?”

  “I was getting ready for my date,” he told all of them. “I smelled smoke and looked out the back window. Looked like the flames were already six feet high, at least. I called 911, then came out here to hose down the back of the house and the roof.”

  “You may have saved the house, Shaw,” Luke told him, clapping him on the back. “Good work, buddy.”

  Shaw shrugged and turned back to his sister. “I’m sorry, Dorse,” he told her. “I couldn’t save the workshop. I tried.”

  “Oh, Shaw,” she said through her tears. She hugged him tightly, then let him go. “As long as you’re safe, that’s all I care about.”

  More people were gathering in the street as the word spread. It looked like half the town was there. People had migrated over from the square as this new excitement eclipsed the planned entertainment for the evening. Dorsey spotted Mariah Reinhardt and her teenage friends looking avid as they oohed and ahhed over the flames. The Sizzle Sisters were there too—they gave Dorsey sympathetic grimaces. Tanya Hartwell and Courtney Flugelmeyer were there, as was Justin Argyle, all three of them smoking, which seemed like a bizarre thing
to do at a fire. There was a ripple in the crowd as someone forced his or her way through from the back. Dr. Melba popped out of the assemblage like a cork from a bottle and ran straight for Shaw, practically tackling him as she wrapped herself around him in a fierce embrace. It seemed incredible, but she appeared to be crying.

  “Oh, Shaw, Shaw,” she sobbed. “Thank God you’re all right!”

  Shaw looked a little embarrassed, but mostly pleased. He wrapped her in his arms, returning the embrace wholeheartedly.

  Goodman and Dorsey exchanged a glance. Dr. Melba? She was the Mystery Woman? Well…why not? At least she could match him answer for answer on Jeopardy.

  “My, uh, date,” Shaw told them, rather unnecessarily, then turned his attention back to the new woman in his life.

  Goodman was hailed by the volunteer fire chief, who was old man Gustafson’s grandson Arlen. They walked over to the engine, talking.

  Dorsey turned to find Luke right by her side.

  “I’ll wash this and return it to you later, okay?” she said to him, meaning the handkerchief.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. They stood there for a moment, watching the firefighters hustle and yell, doing their best to put out the conflagration. As if to console her, Luke put his arm around her shoulder and casually walked the two of them a few more feet away from the onlookers. In a quiet voice, he said in her ear, “Shaw already told me there were plenty of accelerants in there.”

  Accelerants? Dorsey guessed that was the right word for the way the flames were racing up the sides of the workshop. The roof looked ready to collapse any second. The heat was scorching, even from nearly one hundred feet away. The cans of turpentine, paint and gasoline must have gone off like bombs in the intense flames.

  Luke spoke in her ear again. “So what started the fire, Dorse?”

  Startled, she pulled away from him to face him squarely. “I don’t know, Luke! I haven’t even been in there for a few days. Maybe…maybe a short in the wiring? I mean, you know none of us smoke. So what could have started it?”