The Cyndi Lauper ringtone startled her as she was dropping the last of the three bags of groceries in the back seat. Time After Time was a little inside joke between two lifelong best friends.
Lexie shut the car door and answered.
“Hi Barb, I’m at the grocery store and I got ice cream, can I call you when--”
“How well do you remember trips to my family’s cottage when we were kids?”
“Girl, two things: You’re mad about something and I hope it’s not at me. But I’m hurt. You know damn well how much I loved those trips, they--”
“I didn’t ask if you remembered them, I asked how well you remember them. I know it was a long time ago. Details. I wanna know if you remember details.” Barb’s voice was a growl straining against the threshold of a shout.
Lexie leaned against her car.
“Tons of details, Barbara. Tell me the specific category.”
“Do you remember how Mitch used to like scary stories and I would have to tell him one before bed? Like from the very first summer his Dad married my mom.”
“Of course I remember. We couldn’t go to the pier to sneak smoky treats until Mitch was asleep. God, I had such a crush on your step--
“Fuck him. Do you remember any of the stories I would make up?”
“ Damn, girlfriend, yes. I mean I remember Mitch liked scary stories. And I remember you being pretty good at it, but we were like fourteen the summer your mom got married and all I really wanted to do was--”
“Do you remember the one I made up about the canoe with the single paddle and the shoe?”
Lexie looked at her grocery bags, imagining the chocolate puddle her Haagen-Dazs gelato was going to become.
“Vaguely, hon, but…”
“Have you talked to Mitch since he got out of rehab?” Barbara was nearly hissing.
Now Lexie was annoyed.
“Barbara, I didn’t talk to Mitch for probably two years before he went to rehab. I think he sent me a Christmas email, but I haven’t spoken to him in person since his first book came out, and you were there.”
“You were sitting at the foot of Mitch’s bed up at the lake when I made up the phantom canoe story, I swear you were.”
“I probably was, Barb, but I don’t really remember the story, I’m sor--”
“Shit, Lex, you loved it too. The kid finds the canoe drifting, and there’s just one paddle, and he starts paddling but the canoe only goes in circles until…”
Lexie shifted her weight. Her arm touched the hot metal window trim of her car and she jumped.
“Oh!”
“Oh? Barbara repeated, hopeful, anxious. “You remember now?”
“No, sugar, I just sorta burned my arm on my car. I’m sorry. I really don’t remember the story in detail, Barbara.”
“Well, Mitch does. Paddle by Mitch Wrobley was released yesterday. The sonuvabitch was just on the Paperback Writer podcast telling Darlene Schectney the premise came to him in detox.”
***
Photo by Klim Sergeev on Unsplash
Every writer's nightmare
Half way through I was SURE he murdered someone by following a story. But as a writer I think that was scarier 😂.