Guitars and Batteries
Letting Go
The water rushed past his feet on the asphalt, around the worn Chuck Taylors he didn’t remember putting on.
Once, the water got deep and fast enough to gurgle over the top of his shoe at the ankle and get his sock wet. He still didn’t move, just stared.
A blanket was draped over his shoulder. It wasn’t cold out.
The Red Cross volunteer smiled and moved to the next person.. If the guy wasn’t so good looking Harris would have handed the blanket back, and though he hadn’t moved he realized he would have done it aggressively, unkindly.
Harris pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweats and texted Bonnie, no context, I’m sorry I was short with you.
He put the phone back in his pocket, not capable of dealing with any responses that might be negative.
Bonnie just wanted to help.
There was a whole process involved in selling the guitar, that red SG, that beauty. It was similar to deciding when to put a dog to sleep, though Harris only had to do that once and switched to fish.
Bonnie had said “Lucian will buy the guitar, I’ll deliver it, he can send me the money and I’ll send it to you. Zero contact between you two.”
Over the spray of the hoses, the shouts of the firefighters and sobs of his neighbors, Harris heard himself repeat the words “Lucian will never own that guitar,” followed by a string of vileness that hadn’t come from him since…probably ever.
How he carried the fish tank out without ripping his discs from his back like broken guitar strings Harris wasn’t sure.
The guy across Summercrest, the tall, skinny rednecky guy that owned the generator company, the guy that Harris thought for sure was a steel wool and switchblade homophobe, brought out a small battery thing and plugged the fish tank into it, then ran off to help another neighbor.
The fish were alive.
The very first firefighter Harris saw barred him from returning to the complex to get the guitar, and let’s be serious, maybe a few other things.
Harris felt the firehose water gurgle into his shoe again.
He stepped back this time.
The fish swam happily in the tank.
The guitar was gone, certainly.
His insurance might cover it, but never replace it.
Lucian playing the damn thing didn’t seem so evil now.
Harris looked at his phone. No response from Bonnie yet.
He texted Bonnie “My guitar is gone.”
Dropping the phone back into his pocket, he watched the two Royal Grammas dart around the tank.
In his pocket he felt the vibration of a text.
Bonnie.
If you sold that guitar to Mike Lorhei, I’ll never speak to you again,
Harris had no clue who Mike Lorhei was.
But he was sure there was a good story behind it, if it was anything like him and Lucian.
He texted Bonnie.
I guess I should mention that my condo burned down. Is burning down. Almost gone. I’m watching it.
Bonnie texted back immediately.
OMG I’ll be right there.
Harris replied.
On your way here think of a really nice thank you gift for a redneck.
***
I’m always amazed at how clear I see your characters, love it!❤️
I only have one guitar I wouldn't sell. I got it as a High School graduation present, and it is still my favorite. I am fond of a couple of others, but they are replaceable. I would have left the fish and took the guitar. 🤣
I like that the neighbor he was suspicious of ended up helping him. Sometimes, people surprise you.