On Tenterhooks (8 page)

This is stupid.
Why am I stressing over this?  This i
s so bogus
,
it isn’t even funny!

Finally, she
settled on
her message:

Z
,

I miss you. Be well. I love you.

A

Before she could
change her mind again
, she pressed the
Submit
button on the screen and instantly her message was sent:
Congratulations! Your message has been sent
.
We will see to it that your loved one gets it as soon as possible!

She snickered.

“What a bun
nth of bullthit
!”
she mumbled through the wad of soggy tissue.

S
he wanted to believe that
Zack
somehow
would get the message
.
T
he thought of being able to get this message to him, no matter how crazy it sound
ed, warmed a piece of her heart. The feeling was like a
soft gentle blanket that she dared to snuggle under, even if she wouldn’t admit it to anyone outside her own soul
.

She yawned and checked
the laptop
cloc
k:
3:22
.
She closed her laptop and put it on her nightstand
.
If she fell asleep within the next
eight
minutes, she would catch
three
hours of sleep before the alarm rang for her to get up in time for school. She yawned again and scooted down in the bed, pulling her
comforter
up
to her chin
.
She
scooped
the soggy tissue out her mouth, wadded it up and threw it on her nightstand.
Then she
rolled over and
took a deep, slow breath
.

By 3:2
4
, Abby was asleep.

Chapter
1
1

Martin rolled up the steel gates that surrounded the pharmacy counter
.
The drugstore itself was 24/7, but the pharmacy only held business
from
eight
in the morning until
six
in the evening
during the week
.
E
ach morning, he went through the
clanging
ritual of unlocking
and rolling up the gates
.
E
ach evening
,
the symphony went in reverse
,
as he
secured
the area
for the night
. He gave the last gate a final push up into its hiding spot in the ceiling and walked around the counter to boot up the cash register and computer
.
On the
counter,
he noticed a plain white letter-sized envelope with his first name on it, written in blue ink with a wide scrawling handwriting that he didn’t recognize.

“
Odd,” he
said
,
picking up the envelope
.
It was sealed
.
It was too light to be anything more than a sheet or two of paper
.
Casting aside momentary anthrax-inspired
fears
, he ripped it open. Inside he found
a handwritten note in the same hand that had labeled the envelope:

Say Goodbye One Last Time
Do you miss a loved one?  Did someone you care about die without any warning?  We know that pain
—
we’ve experienced it ourselves
.
That’s why we built Say Goodbye To Me (
www.saygoodbyetome.org
)
.
Say Goodbye To Me is simply a way for you to send that last message to your loved one
.
It’s not a gimmick
;
there is no catch
.
There is no cost to use this service
,
and you can remain completely anonymous
.
Through experience, we’ve learned that an abrupt end can leave deep and painful scars, scars that will last a lifetime
.
Say Goodbye To Me is simply an online forum that will allow you to address some final words to your loved one
, and let
them know how you feel
.
No one else will ever see the message
.
It is your private opportunity to add closure to this sad chapter of your life.

We encourage you to visit us online at
www.saygoodbyetome.org
and see for yourself
.
Take the time
—
you’ll be glad you did!

“What the heck is this?” he asked
aloud
.
He looked around
.
At 7:
50 a.m.
on
a
Thursday morning, the pharmacy was nearly deserted
.
Ambient
piped music
floated down from overhead speakers.
He knew that t
he night clerk, Jimmy, was up at the front of the store,
but from where he stood
, Martin couldn’t see
the other man
. T
he aisles in the area nearest the pharmacy were empty
.

It read like an ad
vertisement
—
plain and simple
.
Was it
junk mail
?  It looked like real pen and ink
.
He
pressed
his thumb
to
his tongue and then rubbed the letter
.
The ink smeared
.
Someone had taken the time to write down some ad copy
and send it his way
.
But why
. . .
and who? 

Letter in hand, he
left the pharmacy counter, cut across the back of the store and headed up the aisle full of toys and school supplies
toward
the front
.
Halfway up
the aisle
, he saw Jimmy
ringing up a tall, muscular
man
with a long reddish-blonde ponytail
.
The man
wore
dark
sunglasses
and a
well-worn black leather jacket, faded dirty jeans and
square-toed biker boots
.
Aside
from
customer and clerk
, Martin saw
no one else
in the store
. As he approached the counter, Jimmy was finishing the transaction.

“Anything besides the gum, sir?”
he
asked tentatively.

“Hmmm,”
said the stranger
. H
is voice was cavernous. H
e turned and
watched Martin approach
the counter
and
nodded slightly.
Martin acknowledged
the gesture
with a slight return nod and
an automatic
smile
,
honed through decades of customer service.

“Let’s see here,” the biker said
in the melodic deep tones of a
Southern
drawl
.
He
turned the wheel of a small countertop display of cheap sunglasses
and asked,
“How much for these
here
sunglasses?”

“Nine
n
inety-
n
ine,” said Jimmy, “plus tax.”

Biker smiled and picked out a pair of simple shades
.
Taking
off
the
sunglasses
he was wearing, he
tried on the cheap pair
and
turned to
face
Martin.

“How do they look?” he asked.

“Good, sir,” Martin replied.

“Hot damn,” said Biker
.

“Do you need a ba
g for the glasses, sir?” Jimmy asked.

“No, thanks,
Bud
,” Biker repli
ed, “The road I travel on is a might bit bright
.
I’ll wear
‘em
now.”
S
lipp
ing
his
old sunglasses
into the pocket of his jacket
, he
tore the tag off the new
pair
and tossed it on the counter. Jimmy
picked it up and scanned it.

“That’ll be eleven seventy six altogether.”

Biker
pulled
a worn black leather wallet fr
om the back po
cket of his
jeans
, wallet chain jingling as he leafed through the
cash
inside
.
He
flipped
a hundred dollar bill onto the counter.

“Keep the change,
Bud
,” he said to Jimmy
.
On went the new glasses
.

“What?” asked Jimmy, mouth agape.
“
Thank you, sir!”

Biker turned to Martin.

“And you
sir
, stay safe
.
It’s getting
a might
rough out there.”

Martin wasn’t sure how to respond, so he settled on a simple nod to Biker once again.

Biker
dipped his chin
to both of them and smiled.

“Gentlemen, it’s time for me to ride. Good day to both
ya’ll
.”

He
exited the store.

“That
. . .”
said Jimmy, “was awesome!”

Clearly delighted, he
completed the transaction in the register
,
deposited the
hundred-dollar
bill
,
counted back the change and stuffed
the exorbitant tip
into his jeans.

Martin liked Jimmy
.
Not the brightest bulb in the bunch perhaps, but over his several years on the staff, he had proven reliable, honest and trustworthy
—
hard traits to find in
someone willing to hold
the minimum wage job Jimmy had. Martin
used to think
the man
’s dependability would help his career opportunities
, but
the night clerk had
seemed content
to
stay where he had been for years
.

“How long was that guy here?” Martin asked.

“The biker? Not very long
.
As soon as he got here, he took a big whiff and then he looked down all of the aisles
.
I thought he was gonna ask for the cold medicine or something
.
He went down aisle three.
But after
a second
, he came back up here
near the counter
. He looked at the DVDs and picked over the candy display before he got the gum
.
That was pretty much it.”

“Did he come back toward the pharmacy?”

“
Uh, I don’t think so
, sir.
I don’t think he was gone long enough to get all the way to
the back of the store
.
Why?”

“Jimmy,” said Martin,
ignoring the question,
“w
hat time did you get here today?”

“Oh,
s
ame as always, sir
.
I took over from Ruth at midnight.”

Then he frowned, looking down at his watch.

“
Only got about 10 minutes to go now, s’long as Giselle makes it in on time
.
She usually comes in right at
eight
,
you know
.
Not fair
,
if you ask me
.
She should get here early, clock in, get
the
drawer
counted
and be ready to ring the customers by
eight
. And that’s not the worst of it! Giselle calls in sick
way
too much
,
the way I see it
.
Sometimes I have even had to stay late,
‘
til Mandy comes in at 10
.
I always get here around 11:45
of an evening
so I can clock in, get settled and be ready to
actually
work at
twelve
.
But that’s me, I
—
”

“Jimmy,” interrupted Martin,
“I certainly appreciate your promptness, but right now I need to know if you saw anybody unusual in the store, or if you
have seen
anybody over near the
pharmacy
at any time
since you
’
ve been
here.”

“Unusual, sir?” he asked
.
“
Well, lemme see
.
I had the usual midnight shoppers that came through. Y’know, the regulars.
And around
2:15 I
got the drunkies rolling in after the bars closed, looking for a cure for their munchies and whatnot.”