THE STORY…

“What do I do now?”

Last week, Shay’s asshole of a landlord had refused to extend her lease. Now, he refused to return the security deposit because of three stupid carpet stains, leaving Shay broke and with nowhere to stay until her reporting date.

Her tiny, all-but-empty rented room may have never felt like home, but it was the only place she’d ever called her own. Cooking at the greasy little diner near the community college she’d once hoped to attend provided enough cash to stay there but not much more. Some months Shay had had to get creative to make ends meet, doing things that her sister probably wouldn’t approve of, but somehow she always made do. Now that she was moving out, the only thing good about today was that she could fit everything she owned into the back of her sister’s pickup.

“It was only three damn days and three hundred dollars. What a Grinch,” Shay mumbled. She cursed herself for failing to plan ahead, another “poor choice,” as her sister had put it. She deserved the criticism, just as she had hundreds of times before. She’d created her own predicament, and now, with too many bridges burned, was scrambling for a place to stay, hoping to avoid a cheap hotel’s lumpy mattress.

Shay ran a finger across the final item she had to pack, a framed picture of her and Olivia standing with their parents in front of a Christmas tree, commemorating their last holiday together. For the first time, she was relieved her parents were dead; she wouldn’t have to watch her mother cry when she hopped on that bus in three days.

She tucked the picture into the last box and walked it out, grateful her sister had offered to store her things for the duration. Three years in the family barn their grandfather had built wouldn’t be too long, she reasoned. Her few belongings should endure the Sacramento Valley elements just fine if the decorations she’d put on her sister’s Christmas tree last week were any measure. After all, Olivia had been storing holiday stuff there for the past decade.

Shay easily lifted the heavy box into the bed of the pickup and stood next to her sister. With the same dark hair, freckled skin, short athletic bodies, and love of softball, people often mistook them as being so much alike, but they couldn’t have been more wrong. Olivia was the responsible and reliable one, the perfect role model for her children. Shay was none of those things, something she hoped going away would rectify.

A surge of guilt rushed over her like a tidal wave. “I’m sorry I won’t be here to help with the rice milling, Liv.”

“We’ll make do. Ted’s brother is pitching in…like he did last year.” The well-deserved jab stung like a papercut. Years of Shay disappearing when work needed to be done had left Olivia with little choice but to give up on her and rely on Ted’s family.

“I’m glad you have Ted.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“I’ll figure out something.” 

Despite their on-and-off feuding over Shay’s childish ways, Olivia’s expression hinted at her sisterly concern. The seven-year gap in their ages had led to her playing the role of mother to Shay, telling her what to do while setting the right example. In her twenties, Olivia should’ve been living it up. Instead, she’d gotten Shay through the wild teen years following their parents’ accident. Unfortunately, none of her advice had stuck.

Maybe if Shay had listened, she wouldn’t have wasted every spare penny on women and vodka. Maybe she would’ve enrolled in culinary classes at the community college and made something of herself…something Olivia would’ve been proud of. But no, Shay had fought her every step of the way. Olivia deserved better than an ungrateful sister who never listened. Shay’s first regret.

Shay shuffled her sneakers on the parking lot asphalt and put on her best sheepish face to plead her case for one more unearned favor. “Since my last day is Sunday, I hoped to have dinner with you, Ted, and the kids. Maybe spend the night on your couch.”

“I guess I can put up with you for one night.” Olivia’s shoulder nudge and half-cocked smile signaled a temporary truce but came short of forgiving ten years of having to clean up Shay’s messes. “Dinner’s at six.” She gave Shay a welcome yet undeserved hug before driving off.

Once Shay signed for the final inspection and gave the asshole her key, she pulled a folded piece of paper from her front jeans pocket and scanned the list of friends who had a couch or spare room. Surely, one would take pity on her. The next hour proved her wrong, leading her to her last resort. At least she knew where she stood with her “so-called” friends.

***

The door opened halfway following Shay’s “Shave and a Haircut” signature knock, revealing a sexy redhead dressed in faded, pale blue panties and a white spaghetti-strapped tank top. She slung her right arm high on the door, exaggerating her tall frame. Shay thought her chances were looking good until the woman’s eyes narrowed. She settled on a conciliatory tone as her safest course of action.

“Hi, Malory. You look great.”

“I thought you left.” Malory slid her arm from the door, crossing it with the other against her chest. Her curt tenor was another bad sign.

“Not ‘til Monday.”

“What are you doing here, Shay? You made it clear we were done.”

Shay sifted through the few options she’d left herself after their less than amicable parting last week. She could say she’d made a horrible mistake by letting Malory go, but she’d promised herself no more lies. The only thing left was the truth.

“I need a place to stay for a few days. I could either spend what little money I have left at that fleabag at the far end of town, or I could spend it on you.” Shay trained her gaze on Malory’s long legs, hoping she’d be forgiven and those legs would be flung over her shoulders within the hour.

“You broke my heart.” Malory’s quivering lower lip clawed at Shay’s guilty conscience like a dog digging for a bone. Her instinct was to wrap Malory in her arms and soothe away the pain she’d caused, but common sense settled in. She had yet to earn that privilege.

“I know.” Coming here was likely a mistake, but she was out of options. Shay cautiously inched closer and ran a finger between Malory’s double Ds, hoping to tip the scales in her favor. “But I have nowhere else to go.”

Following a long, breathy sigh, Malory lowered her arms over Shay’s shoulders. “I’m still mad at you.” The ensuing kiss had the familiar hunger Shay had counted on. The next two days, she hoped, would be a blip on an otherwise clean break.

Soon Shay lay on her side in bed, arm bent at the elbow and head resting against an upturned palm, considering the naked skyscraper next to her and everything she would soon miss. She’d read the pamphlets and cringed at the coming changes. She’d be told what to wear, what to do, and where to go every minute of the day. Then there was the distance, three hundred miles to be exact. Sure, there’d be other women where she was going, but none like Malory. None would know exactly how she liked to be touched, and none would give her a sense that her life was her own.

Doubt bubbled to the surface. Was she doing the right thing? Before Shay could debate the merits of her life-altering decision, a growling sensation in her stomach made her realize that in three days she’d no longer have a say in what she ate. She nudged the dozing beauty.

“You hungry?”

“Famished.” Malory’s groggy voice triggered a genuine smile from Shay, the first one in what felt like weeks.

This called for delivery, and lots of it. After the Styrofoam containers arrived, Shay and Malory sat propped against the headboard and picked at burgers, fries, and Mexican food, Shay’s favorites. The silence between them was oddly comforting. Thoughts of Monday left Shay as she focused on her last bits of freedom: eating what she pleased, drinking cheap vodka, and making love again to the woman she didn’t want to leave.

After clearing away everything paper and plastic, Malory trapped Shay against the mattress, their naked bodies pressed together, mouths inches apart. Shay expected this to be a prelude to round two. To her disappointment, Malory instead said the words she dreaded.

“I’ll wait for you.”

If Shay had had the courage, she’d have begged Malory to do just that, but she’d signed on the dotted line because it represented her best hope to finally “grow the hell up” as Olivia put it. Signing meant leaving, and she had no right to ask or expect Malory to wait. She’d said everything that needed saying last week and didn’t want to think again about waiting or growing up. She rolled until Malory lay beneath her and captured her lips in a searing kiss guaranteed to knock those thoughts from both their heads.

Later, in the still of the night, after both bodies were sated, Shay curled into the comfort of Malory’s arms, thinking how lucky she was to have found her. It had been only three months since Malory first walked into the little diner that Shay loved working in so much. If not for Malory requesting an extra side of rice that day, their paths may never have crossed. And if not for her return visit the next day, their one-night stand may have never turned into this. Shay had never felt more content, more loved—something she hadn’t earned.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a screwup and have to go away.”

Malory raised Shay’s chin until their eyes met, the growing connection Shay felt reflected in Malory’s baby blues. “You have good in you, Shay. You just need to stop dwelling on the bad long enough to find it.”

At that moment, Shay knew she loved her. Her sister, the one person who mattered before Malory, had never used the word “good” to describe her—and for good reason. Every poor choice she’d made guaranteed it. Finally hearing that one word sparked an overdue desire to change. Shay was sure that somewhere deep inside, she was a good person, and if she did the heavy lifting, she’d be worth waiting for.

But what if going away worked, and Malory found someone else while she was getting her act together? Even worse, what if going away didn’t work? Either outcome scared the hell out of her. She’d rather make a clean break now than raise false hopes.

***

When Sunday came, as the clock in her head ticked nearer to six o’clock, Shay leaned Malory against the front door, their tongues dancing together one last time. Her sister would kill her if she was late for dinner, so she ripped her lips from Malory’s. Like pulling the Band-Aid off in one swift tug, it hurt but had to be done.

Shay tucked away the last of her doubts, satisfied she’d made the right choice. Where she was going, she needed to begin with a clean slate—for her sake as much as for Malory’s. If she had any hope of becoming worthy of the woman standing before her, she first needed to stand on her own.

“I gotta go.”

“Can I come to see you?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“This is goodbye, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” Malory’s long expression mirrored the pain in Shay’s chest. She’d broken her heart…again. Shay’s second regret.

***

Three minutes before six, after her Uber drove away, Shay stepped onto the back porch of her childhood home and sat on the metal swing her grandfather had crafted, her favorite spot in the world. Indian summers like tonight, Shay’s favorite time of year, always produced a romantic haze right after sunset, her favorite time of day. She took in the misty, waterlogged rice fields that had been in her family for five generations as they shimmered in the moonlight. Rice farming wasn’t in her blood, but she loved this farm and was comforted by the knowledge that her sister would carry the mantle on her behalf.

The screen door squeaked and then banged twice against its frame. Silence and the absence of scampering feet and paws across the wood slats meant it could only be one person.

“Hi, Liv.”

Olivia joined her on the swing, causing it to sway back and forth in a creaky, slow arc. The quiet between them said more than words, reassuring Shay that despite Olivia’s misgivings about tomorrow, they were still family.

Through the open kitchen window, six consecutive muffled chimes sounded from the grandfather clock, a family heirloom proudly displayed in the living room.

“It’s six,” Shay said.

“Dinner can wait.” Those three words spoke volumes. Olivia always served dinner at six o’clock and not a minute later. Waiting meant she still loved her. Olivia accentuated her point by patting Shay’s thigh like she used to when they were little. “I remember when we used to come out here and play kitchen.”

“It made me want to become a chef.”

“You’re a great cook. Maybe they’ll assign you to the kitchen, or whatever they call it.”

“I’m not holding my breath.” To avoid focusing on a future she had no control over, Shay ran a hand across the swing’s metal armrest to conjure up another happy memory. “This is where I kissed a girl for the first time.”

Olivia snickered at Shay’s bold, youthful misstep. “Mister Pfister would’ve tanned your hide if Daddy hadn’t stepped in with the twelve-gauge.”

A sly grin sprouted on Shay’s lips as she reveled in the memory of that exhilarating first kiss. “It was so worth it.”

Olivia gave her hand a rare, long, loving squeeze. Shay glanced at her and grew concerned when deep lines came into focus. Through the many poor choices she’d made over the years, she’d put those lines on that face that looked so much like her own.

“You’re worried.”

“I’m a mom. That’s what I do.” Olivia shifted, causing the swing to arc more. “Maybe if I’d laid down the law with you more often, you wouldn’t have to go.”

“You gave me a gift.” Shay shook her head with the persistence of conviction. Olivia had been right months ago when she’d said Shay needed to mature into someone her niece and nephew could look up to. Shay only wished she’d realized it sooner. “You gave me the space you thought I needed.”

“Apparently too much space.”

“You gave me the freedom to make my own choices. I screwed it up most of the time, but I’m making the right one now.”

“I’m proud of you.” Olivia choked on her last word, a sign she meant it with equal conviction.

Shay had yet to earn those words, but hearing them gave her hope that one day she’d be worthy of them. Since the day a deputy sheriff had showed up on this very porch, breaking the news that their parents would never be coming home, Shay had been a handful. She’d rebelled at every turn, testing her sister’s patience along with the local police chief’s. She hoped going away now would knock that rebellious streak right out of her. Though she’d never regret skinny-dipping in Mr. Pfister’s pond with Alyssa, even though they’d gotten caught.

That was so worth it.

The sisters shared more silence until a young, high-pitched voice called from inside. “Mama?”

“Out here,” Olivia yelled over her shoulder. In an instant, the screen door was flung open, followed by the sound of feet scurrying across the porch.

“Auntie Shay!” A chorus of voices too young to understand tugged at Shay’s heart. She scooped brother and sister into her lap, each vying for kisses and her undivided attention. 

Callie, the youngest at three, asked, “You here for dinner?”

“Sure am.” Her reply earned a giddy squirm.

Billie, older and wiser at the ripe age of four, announced, “The grandpa clock said six. Time to eat.”

“Nothing gets past you.” Shay stood, cradling one in each arm. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

At the dinner table, between the chatter and clanking silverware, Shay took stock of the family she’d leave behind tomorrow. A sister who put up with her shit, a brother-in-law who slipped her fifty bucks now and again, and a niece and nephew she loved to the moon and back. As rare as these Sunday dinners with the family had become in recent months, Shay would miss them, along with hearing about their imperfect lives that seemed perfect to her.

After dinner, brother and sister lay beneath their respective covers with Shay sitting at the foot of Billie’s bed. She closed the colorful book, ending her third bedtime story of the evening with the words, “…goodnight noises everywhere.”

“One more, Auntie Shay.” Any other time, her nephew’s extra-long pout would have earned him at least one more story, but the stern look Olivia shot them from the doorway signaled more wasn’t in the cards. A glance at Callie’s bed confirmed it was time to say goodnight.

Shay first kissed Callie on the forehead as she slept, wishing for one last return kiss. When Shay went to straighten Billie’s covers, he wriggled.

“Mama said Santa comes in this many days.” He proudly held up all ten fingers.

“You’re right.” A lump formed in the back of Shay’s throat. This would be his and Callie’s first Christmas without her to give them piggyback rides around the living room after opening presents. A fact best not revealed in advance for everyone’s sake.

“Do you think he’ll bring me a robot?”

“Have you been a good big brother?” She paused for his confident nod. “Then I think there’s a very good chance.”

After hugs and kisses, too many to count, she turned off the light switch and gazed at her niece and nephew one last time. Three years she’d be gone, an entire lifetime to them. She choked on a single thought—they’d forget her for sure. Shay’s third regret.

***

Once Shay settled into the pillow and blanket on the family room couch, Olivia came in holding two opened longneck bottles.

“Beer?”

“Sure.” Shay slung her feet to the floor and patted a section of blanket next to her. “Sit.” Olivia plopped down so their thighs touched, a sure sign, Shay thought, that their connection would survive her absence. “You’ll make sure the kids get my gifts, won’t you?”

“Of course. The doll and robot are perfect.” The sisters shared more silence, but this time felt different—it contained a sense of finality. Olivia’s next words confirmed it. “You ready for tomorrow?”

The question hung in the air like a turned autumn leaf, foreshadowing a coming winter. Shay was losing everything—the family she adored, the sister she counted on, and the woman she loved—and she finally understood why. She had abused her sister’s gift. That game show host her mom liked so much was correct. Freedom was not the right to do as she pleased, but the opportunity to do what was right. Going away, she hoped, was her second chance.

Shay swigged the beer, her stomach churning at a daunting future. Her childish ways had come to an end. To get back what she’d lost, she’d have to become an adult. She hoped to learn to listen, to be worthy of love, and to not repeat the stupid things that had brought her to this point. It would be the hardest thing she’d ever done. But, ultimately, she was relieved she’d taken the plea.

“Is anyone ever ready for prison?”

For more great short stories, buy the anthology Writing Freedom at: