right to tell her you know, but don’t press the issue. If she wants to talk about it, fine, but don’t ask her any questions.”
“No, of course not. That’s fine. Actually, I don’t think I want the details.”
“You’re right. You don’t. Sarah could barely tell me everything.” I took another drag off the cigarette. “She feels embarrassed and humiliated. And I know how I’d feel if it was me.”
“I promise. We won’t talk about it unless she wants to.”
“Thanks, mom.” Exhaling more smoke, I asked, “So when did you want to get her?”
“How about tonight?”
“Sure. She’ll be at the babysitter’s. Do you know where Noreen lives?”
So that was that. Suddenly, I had a weekend alone. After I bought costumes for both kids because now Sarah had a reason and their bags were packed, I was off to work.
When I got home that night, though, I sipped more of my whiskey and made some plans. I had no fucking idea how to get a gun, but I suspected I’d either want to start with a fake ID or I’d need to figure out how to buy something like that illegally. Because I’d essentially been a law-abiding citizen my whole life, I wasn’t sure how to go about breaking it.
But, God, I wanted to.
Unfortunately, all my planning and drinking gave me a bit of a hangover for classes the next morning. If it wasn’t for Tylenol and sipping water, I would have bombed more midterms.
When I went home, I called in sick for my shift at work that evening and then took a nap on the couch.
Until my cell phone rang.
Not much time had passed since I’d drifted off, and I felt groggy and disoriented when I answered the phone, my voice scratchy.
I knew it was Justin, but his words didn’t make sense to me at first. “Hey, I got that thing you wanted.”
“Thing? What thing?”
His voice was so low, it was hard to hear. “You know. That thing you wanted me to get you.”
Suddenly, it was like a light bulb turned on inside my head—and I noticed my headache had eased off. “Oh. You mean the gun?”
“Fuck, Randi. Don’t say that shit on the phone.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Sorry. I just woke up. I’m not thinking straight.”
“So you want to come get it? I want it outta here.”
“Um, yeah. I’ll be right over.” That meant I needed to wake my ass up. So after I hung up, I went to the bathroom and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. Then I splashed a little cool water on my face. Finally, I felt like I could eat something without throwing up, so I grabbed a handful of potato chips before slinging my purse on my shoulder and heading out the door.
After arriving at Justin’s apartment building, though, I walked up the steps to his place and realized the headache wasn’t entirely gone—but at least it had eased off enough that I hadn’t noticed it till now. When I got to his door, I knocked and he answered almost immediately.
“Follow me.” He took me to his bedroom, and he pulled a box off the shelf at the top of his closet. After setting it on the bed, he lifted the lid to show me a small black handgun. Although I’d seen plenty of guns before, thanks to my father, recognizing one was the extent of my knowledge. I knew they had different names and manufacturers and more, but it was all lost on me. When I picked it up, turning it over in my hands, Justin asked, “Have you ever used one before?” Swallowing, I shook my head. “Woman, what the hell am I gonna do with you? How about I find a flamethrower to go with it?”
“Come on, Justin. How hard can it be?”
The look he gave me spoke volumes. “It’s not hard, but I’m not gonna give it to you without teaching you how to use it.”
“Fine. Then teach me.”
“Not here. We gotta go to the woods or somethin’.”
“Like where?”
“There’s some national forest land a few miles out of town. We can go there. When do you wanna do this?”
“Now.” That was pretty bossy, and the way Justin raised his eyebrows communicated as much. “Unless you don’t have time right now.”
“I guess that’ll work.” Then, as if the gun would explode in my hands, Justin took it from me, placing it back in the box. After we walked into the living room, Justin grabbed his keys off the coffee