Tributaries: Spring 2024

"Life After You"

by Cedric Howard-Lewis

Life after you was an unwanted dream

From which I can never wake.

Walking the world in which your essence overtakes, but your foot steps, no more are made, and none are quite like the ones you gave. 

Those are the ones I now trace.

Your steps forever fossilized for me, and show me the way.

You’ve laid for me a path to a brighter day

You are in the stars

Providing light that guides me on my way

Your light always shinning in all things of worthiness

In all that is prim and gay

The clouds never ceased to rain, when the world gave you away, back to the one that gave you life, that you bestowed a way. 

The young virgin ripped from the earth, innocent he came, and with innocence he’d gone away.

Life after you, gave new meaning to each and every day.

Life after you gave me strength and set me on my way.

Long before you had gone, you’d bestowed your life away.

You live in me, and I finally live in your image.

Because life after you, was what it took to see your semblance.

"Where Did You Go?" 

by Haley Silvey

The end stretched further out from where it began

A clothesline hung the heaviness

Soaked and worn clothing

The dampness melting together with the morning dew,

pumping through the veins of the soil,

waltzing atop the narrow bodies of the branch,

down into her womb where the belly ached.

Pulsating the layers of the earth perpetually;

disembodied

A miasma of mortality emanating

The roots of the elder,

bloated black and gray.

And she lie beneath

Wedged between her conscious unpalatable existence

And the curtain call

The eternal intermission

Waiting.

"Satin and Sandpaper" 

by Brandi Harper

I want a love so deep that when he looks away he remembers the exact number of freckles on my neck

Therefore when one suddenly appears, it is truly foreign to him.

His inspection would be delicate and then he would make a mental marker of how lovely he thought it was.

I want a love so deep that when he sees my eyes, he proclaims that they are bluer than

anything he has seen.

That in this world, there is nothing bluer.

The ocean would turn green, jaded from such a thought.

This love is silk rather than sandpaper.

It's smooth and calm instead of ripping and rigid.

However, this love endures like cotton and does not break as easily as lace.

This love is one of which I have dreamt feverishly.

It haunts me as though it knows I cannot reach it.

Yet,

I have been the one to stop attempting

As every attempt has led straight to sandpaper and lace. The freckles on my neck have never

been counted and even though there are new ones all the time, they do not get recognition.

My eyes hold no light to the ocean and they are almost a murky green.

However,

To the one who will, someday, count the freckles on my neck and make the ocean fall into a jealous rage,

I wait.

To the one who would rather love me with silk and cotton,

I will take your days that require sandpaper and lace.

All because, it would be an honor to find the red within your dark colored beard.

It would be bliss to trace every scar on the hands that you plan to provide with.

It would be a love that, rather than staying stagnant, grew with us like the grass

"Prodigy" 

by Autumn Puckett

In another life,

 a perfect world,

My mother does not know me.

She never meets my dad.

For that, should we be glad?

actually, I’m not sad.

In a perfect world, my mom

awakes at dawn

pursues her dreams,

never becomes a fiend,

puts in all effort, to know herself.

Never stopping

to hold my hand,

to teach me to dance,

nor kiss any of my bruises.

In that perfect world, she chooses

what’s best for her,

not

what’s left of her.

Never mind, I cease to exist.

At least my mother,

she gets to live.
 

"What Lasts" 

by Jessi Howell

You can find me where the road runs out-

Where there is no guiding path,

Amongst the things you dream about

Searching for what lasts.

I’ve been lost before- you see?

But I found my way back up the street.

So, of course.. who was I to think

That it was your place to rescue me?

Drawn in, held close... overdosed, now comatose..

But isn’t that how it usually goes

When we cling too tightly to fragile hope?

Forgive me, please

For I knew not what I’d done.

It’s not your place to stitch the seams

Of this torn and tattered son.

Now I’ll watch you walk away

As the sunlight warms your back...

While I’m sitting in the rain

With the things that never last.

"The Words I Cannot Say"

by Mikaela Hilyard

I was told it was merely a season.

The pain is only temporary.

One day, I would find the reason.

These feelings are just a part of my story.

I try to talk about it.

The pain that has a grip on my soul.

But is it even worth it?

Will they understand how this pain has created such a hole?

The words grip my throat.

Tears form in my eyes.

I begin to choke.

I should’ve said my goodbyes.

"I Am the Prey" and "I am the Prey II"

by Navah Jordan

"I Am the Prey"

I am the shadow of a small beast disappearing into the black plate under the trees:

The prey.

My paws are soft on the leaves, so gentle and swift even the ants mistake it for a gust of wind.

My eyes illuminate the black foliage so that I can see what others cannot.

With no defenses, I rely on being observant in order to survive. 

I see a slight movement, and my blood runs hot like oil,

My heart drums like an engine, and I 

Race up a nearby tree, digging my pathetic claws into the bark and praying I am safe 

As I let my eyes fall on the source of the noise.

It is a frog. 

Its eyes point left and right, seeing nothing,

It hops away with a ribbit, a soulless ribbit, 

For none of us have souls in the jungle.

There is only Prey, 

And Predator.

The Weak,

And the Strong.

And one day, after I bring about the next generation of Prey, 

And teach them how to live in fear,

I will be too tired to keep pretending.

I know I was made 

to be food to the Predator 

And he will come with his teeth, and I will come with a fight 

(Just to be demure) 

And he will eat me alive.

His jaws snapping closed around me like a snug embrace

Maybe I will be surprised 

By his warmth. 

How lucky I will be 

To finally be a part of something bigger than myself

"I Am the Prey II"

I am the small beast that the predator wins 

Or so it is thought 

Having been born into powerlessness

I have always been taught 

That those with strength believe it innate 

But I am a meal that evades its caged fate

The bloodied skirt of your fangs

Are superior to mine 

The sharp glint of your claws 

As natural as starshine 

But my strength lies in living each day

A life that you fight so hard to take away

My nature is to navigate the dark 

Without the guidance of skylight 

And to see the simple beauty 

Of who I am and what is right 

To see the vivid splatters across the frogs back 

And the rigid veins of bark that my crescent claws attack

My shadow moves with beauty

And my resilient beating heart 

Is destined for greater glory

Than being torn apart

And when you come with destruction 

Growl rippling through the leaves

I out-run you gracefully 

Up the pillar of a tree

High up towards the silver ball of glitter 

The master is mastered by his conquered dinner 

Who is really strong in a situation 

Where your life depends 

On if I let you have mine? 

The non-contender contends

I smile at you from my perch 

To which you give a desperate lurch 

Silly animal. You’re only powerful when

Your fur is bloodied red with death 

But mine is there every time 

I take a sparkling breath 

It truly is a miracle when that which is defenseless

Can live each day with full delight, and disregard repentance 

The prey regards the sea of stars with the fullness of its devotion

To live the gift of this weaker existence 

Is to also deny that notion

The prey lives without shame, full of grace, and for love 

And runs, not from the predator but towards the stars above

"Invade"

by Zaine Collins

Invade, invade, my mind today

Not one night do you go away

Disturb in ways I can’t convey

I wish, I wish, you left today.

Persuade, persuade my thoughts today

Twisted and turned in such a way

You make the evil look okay

Against my efforts, you succeed today.

What else shall we contort today?

How else will you be in dismay?

Are your emotions in the way,

Of which should I corrupt today?

Although relentless I do stay

I never win another day

 Stolen or seize, my mind you may 

But my soul, you will never sway.

"Accidental Strangers: A Letter to a Soldier"

by Elizabeth A. Ledezma Tansky

How did this happen? We’re accidental strangers.

One lives in heaven, and the other lives in danger.

Days become weeks and weeks become a decade.

I hear a love song, and you hear an air raid.

I pray to my god that your god may persuade you

To keep on living and remember that we need you.

These crocodile tears have never been so tragic.

I’m waiting to hear your voice through the static.

"Middle-class Memoir"

by Haley Silvey

What a somber orange rug we walk on

I hate this color and the texture is unforgiving

If only I had kept the floor as it was

But the stain is too large

Too profound and present

Too overbearing and dreadful

My eyes would hurt a thousand times more to see it staring back

With its unforgiving expression

Self-denying in the place it has conquered

I fold inside myself over and over just at the thought of her hiding below

Such a temporary veil

"Underwhelming"

by Autumn Puckett

Take a breath,

I try not to faint

but winter must live in my chest.

Air seems stiff, thicker than paint.

I’ll never again proclaim to the saints.

I’m broken, collapsing, worsening at best!

Just calm, as I take a deep breath.

Words come outright jumbled,

broken mind feels all pummeled.

Everything silent, this is a final test.

Please lay my aching bones to rest!

Winter is coming.

I take one last breath.

A sigh of relief,

is how I invoke death. 

"Hope"

by Gregory Nations

I'm reminded of the past

Thinking of what happened last

I'm always to be blamed

Oh, how I feel ashamed

All of this brought me so much pain

Can I ever wash out this stain?

I'm constantly sealing this feeling

Yet my past fosters the monsters

Why am I so focused with this hocus pocus?

Why do I start to let it tear me apart?

Who can ever say why I feel this way?

I shouldn't pour my attention into this emptiness

No, instead I should overflow with happiness

I have friends in many locations

Some in schools and some on plantations

Why is it so hard for me to see

When one of them died on a cross for me

I am loved and I am saved

My future has already been paved

I will not stop, no I will proceed

I will not fail, no I will succeed

For the very reason I was born

Was so I could face the storm

"The Beauty of Scars"

by Mackenzie Guinn

You see them and instantly think,

Why would anyone want these?

Permanent marks that aren't in sync.

They appear lumpy with color,

some flat and sunken,

but if you look deeper then you will see,

They each tell a story deep beneath.

One shows a woman becoming a mother,

Another one shows success and one's journey to self-love.

What you see as ugly,

I see as beautiful.

"Lost and Found"

by Robin Truslow

The lost and found box sits in the hallway outside of Mrs. Nix’s classroom, always watching. It sees teachers bringing misfit coats left by the children on the playground. Children don’t understand the value of a warm coat when they’re too hot from playing tag. Expensive coats are left hung on the fence or strewn about on the ground and stepped on. The teachers don’t remember which of their children it belongs to. They will bring it to the lost and found, and it will keep it safe. It takes care of the pencil pouches left by students who don’t like school, and unknowingly do everything they can to forget about the day as soon as they leave the building.

 There is a small toy car and a few trinkets left by children, too. You know how kids like to have things in their pockets. A dead dragonfly is in the bottom of the box that no one has discovered yet, presumably from the pocket of a jacket. It is winter now, dragonflies aren’t buzzing around this time of year. Sometimes, some children come to the lost and found to shop. The lost and found box knows that they need this jacket more than the careless owner does, the box won't say anything. The lost and found knows that the little girl who came by and retrieved a hair bow wants one so badly, so the box lets her have it. Mrs. Nix can’t find her favorite pen, so she wants to ask the box where it is. The lost and found can’t stop students from stealing her pen. Maybe someone will find it and have the courage to leave things lost instead of found.

 Some children understand the value of things, and the box sees them frantically running to see if their items can be found. The box sees Maddie crying to Mrs. Nix because she lost her grandmother’s bracelet. It was an heirloom, and now Grandmother is gone. Poor Maddie. Mrs. Nix says this is why girls shouldn’t bring expensive things to school. The box sees Jacob come by later and pull the bracelet out of his pocket after looking around. He tosses the bracelet into the box, where it sits to this day. Consistency is important when looking for an item in the box because sometimes the “owners” change their minds and give it back to the box for the owners.

 At the end of the year, Mrs. Nix is responsible for deciding what happens to the remaining lost items. Usually, parents will notice their children’s items while saying their goodbyes at the schoolwide party before school gets out for Summer. The box will see parents scolding their respective students for being careless with their belongings, and laughs to itself because this is just how it goes. The remaining items are usually donated to the homeless shelter in the town where they all live, where the children appreciate lost toy cars and stepped-on jackets. The box waits patiently for the next school year to come every year wishing it was a magic box that could create items for the children instead of finding them. Maybe someday, all the box’s children will have what they need and appreciate what they have.

"Oh, What Webs We Weave"

by Heavenly Standridge

 Twenty-seven minutes outside Tracy City limits, out past highway thirty-two, there is a trailer that sits in the middle of a field, down an unpaved, gravel road with its very own dirt driveway. The faded blue mailbox greets the few inhabitants of Rocky Lane as they go past to their homes. These seven acres have lots of makeshift graveyards lingering there; one with old cars, one with scrap metal and projects, and another actual graveyard with the family members that couldn’t afford grave plots when they passed. The trailer, double-wide might I add, sits a way back, and has the appeal of an algae-speckled float left in the pool all summer. White mold and furry moss cover the once emerald-colored shutters, and the glass storm door is the newest, shiniest thing on the mobile home by far. It was replaced six years ago in June after the tornadoes came through. The glass door leads out to the landing, hardly big enough to be called a porch, that connects to four steps before hitting the ground. There’s a big oak tree that sits thirty yards from the front steps, and there is a dry rotted rope that was once a tire swing hanging from the biggest bough. That tire swing was mine, almost forty years ago, when my daddy pulled that new trailer, at the time, onto his seven glorious acres on Rocky Lane.  When his construction business started growing, he put back money for three years to buy the land and the trailer and make that plot a home. As a six-year-old, you don’t much mind what you’re living in as long as there’s something good to play with. As an adult, the once beautiful frontier is now a place where my worst nightmare has come true. 

Last Thursday was chocked full of meetings and conferences in my work agenda. I took a two-week vacation with my family to Costa Rica and knew I would have a disgusting amount of work to get caught up on from my absence. I didn’t have time for much else that day. Running a family business is less than a cakewalk most days, but over the last ten years I have learned to juggle.  It was ten minutes to eleven when my office manager paged me to the lobby, saying it was urgent. Damnit. This is Kolten’s third accident this month, I thought. When I was greeted by officers in the hallway, I immediately knew this was something worse than my eleven-year old’s upset stomach. 

“Are you Mrs. Grace Daniels?” the man in the stark khaki suit asked.

“Yes sir. What’s the matter?” I reply, to which he says, “What is your connection to a

James Bennett?”  

“That would be my father. What’s wrong with my father?” I ask. His head lowered to take the wide-brimmed hat off, and he look at the floor as he quietly said, “Is there somewhere private we can talk?” 

“No, thank you. Right here is fine.” He didn’t ask for discrepancy again. He began to explain, saying, “Ma’am, we regret to inform you, but your father was found dead at his residence this morning. I know this is sudden—Is there anyone we can call for you?” 

My face felt flush, my stomach hit the concrete, and my eyes were hot. Dead. My father. Dead? Did I not just talk to him last Sunday, week before last Sunday? No, it must have been last month, but what does it matter now. I had been meaning to call him for the last two weeks. I know his birthday is coming up, and I wanted to take him out to dinner. My father is dead.

 “Mrs. Daniels? Mrs. Daniels are you with me?” 

“Yes, yes sir. I’m sorry. I just, I don’t understand, what do you mean he is, just, dead?

What did the paramedics say happened?” 

“A 911 call was placed at the residence this morning at 7:45 from someone saying they had found Mr. Bennett outside of his home on the property, deceased. The paramedics pronounced him DOA, and they took him to the crime lab to be autopsied because they suspect foul play. Again, we are so sorry Mrs. Daniels. Is there anyone we can call?” 

JJ. It must have been JJ at the property this morning. He was the only one I told to go check on dad while I was out of town. Again, my thoughts began to race. Calmly, I adjust my posture, wipe the wet stains from under my eyes and reply, 

“I need my purse and my phone.” 

“Mrs. Daniels, please ju-” 

“No, officer. There are only two people that can help me right now; my husband and my lawyer.” 

My husband is my counterpart, my team player. When I am on a mission for the Bennett family empire, I know Tommy Daniels will be supporting me the whole way through. I jumped in my Tahoe and called him on my way home. 

“Honey, this one is bad,” I admitted, “and I don’t know how much worse it is going to

get.” 

“Where are you?” He asked. 

 “Headed home. I’ll be there in ten. Call Kilby.” 

“See you in ten.”

 I immediately felt at ease. If there was anyone that could set the world right, it was

Tommy. On the drive home, my mind traveled back to the day I brought home my first all A’s report card from my Honors’ classes, the day I got my SAT scores, the night I sat down to apply to University of Georgia, and my dad was always right there, cheering me on. He may not have understood what I was learning and excelling at, but he was so proud that I did. 

 My dad dropped out of school during his sophomore year; even still, his education was less than that of a seventh grader. I could never hold my father’s unfortunate illiteracy against him; it must be hard to get an education when you were beaten for bringing books home. Both of his parents were drunks that beat each other, and their kids, for sport. The only quality he gleaned from them was his work ethic. His oldest siblings, considering there were nine of them ranging from eighteen months to eighteen years, would come over on the weekends to help their parents with projects around the house or tuning up an old car they had acquired. Their projects often ended in barn-yard style brawls, but that just meant they made themselves a project for the following weekend. Even as young as six or seven years old, my dad knew he wanted better than the hell he was living in. The only thing he knew that could give him an escape was hard work. From his experience growing up in a family full of wife beaters and drunks, my dad did his best to shelter his family from that lifestyle. When he stopped going to school, he continued to learn everything he could about working with his hands. After watching his dad, uncles and brothers fool around with tools for the youngest portion of his life, he took a gamble with his little bit of knowledge and tried to make a living out of construction. 

He jumped on a moving cargo train that stopped in Tracy City with a suitcase and a hundred dollars he saved, and stole, under his mattress. He put ads in the newspaper looking for handyman jobs or any odds-and-ends job that would put money in his pocket. He hustled for the rest of his teenage years and saved his money. He bought a beat up 1965 Chevy pickup when he was nineteen, started filling it with tools, and by the time he was twenty-three he had started his own small construction business. He built houses, buildings, barns, churches, and anything else that had walls and a roof. He became a carpenter, a roofer, a plumber, a flooring engineer, and a sheet rocker. I don’t think there was anything my dad couldn’t do. He was a quick learner and hard worker, and those were his only advantages. He passed it down to me.  His one or two small projects turned into three or four bigger projects until he was hired to renovate the old Methodist church off highway 41 for its 100^th Anniversary. That project put him on the map and changed his life forever.

He met our mom, Angela, during the year it took to renovate the old church, and they got married in the same old Methodist church when it was completed in 1978. I do not know much about my mom or anything before my parents’ marriage. I just know the little bit of time I had with her before her death because Daddy never talked about anything before it, and neither did my siblings. There must have been some kind of beauty in it to make three children, though.

They had my sister, Maggie, the following year after they were married, and my brother, Jessie James, or JJ as we call him, eighteen months after her. I was the slip up, I guess, coming in five years after JJ was born. I often wonder if I was what pushed my mother over the edge. I think she tried to be a good wife and mother for a little while. She never could keep house, and she did the best she could with us as children. She would make Kool-Aid pops in the summer for us, but she left the mess for Daddy to clean up when he got home in the evenings. She always said she was just too tired to pick up after watching us all day. Eventually, she and Daddy started arguing most evenings. It was usually small nitpicking fights; he didn’t take out the trash, her car didn’t have gas in it, he didn’t give us a bath the night before. The list went on and on. 

She left the first time when I was five, and again when I was seven. My dad bought the property and the double wide when I was seven, too, and mom came back for almost a year.

When she left again, I was eight, JJ was thirteen, and Maggie was fifteen. She said that nothing had changed between her and Dad, that she still needed time to figure out who she was and what she wanted. As an adult, I still don’t know what she meant by that. She had three beautiful children, a working husband, and a wonderful home. She would never have to work again if she didn’t want to. Daddy gave her all the space in the world to be happy on Rocky Lane. I don’t know what more she could have wanted. She took off one morning with all her belongings, left her wedding ring, and cleared his savings’ account. That could be why he didn’t much care for banking systems. One summer evening about three months later, we were making smores around the fire in the side yard with Dad when two county sheriff cars pulled into the driveway. He met them at the oak tree, and my daddy began to crumble there in the front yard in front of God, the sheriff, and everyone. The sheriff told Daddy that mother drove head on into a semi-truck earlier that day and had died that afternoon. They said she had half a bottle of Wild Turkey and an empty bottle of Xanax in the passenger floorboard when she crashed, so they suspected an overdose before the crash, but it was too hard to tell.  

Resentment began taking deep roots in my sister that day. Then fifteen-year-old Maggie took us into the house and told us not to come out for anything.  She went outside and consoled Daddy while the sheriff tried to call Aunt Sherry. Now that I’m older, I can see that this is probably where Maggie’s indifference to our father began. Aunt Sherry came to stay with us for a week or so while Daddy planned the funeral. I don’t remember much about that week other than Daddy throwing Aunt Sherry out for getting drunk in front of us kids. He said he would never let any of us be around that, and she wasn’t going to be the one to start it, especially now that Angela was dead. I watched her pull out of the long driveway from my tire swing that afternoon. 

My daddy did the best he could raising three kids after my mother’s death. My sister Maggie struggled with the loss the hardest. She blamed Daddy for Mother’s death the older she got. I was told that Maggie carried me around and called me her baby when I was born, but I’m sure that wasn’t a wish to be a mother after our mom’s death. She was indifferent to me after that. JJ would play with me some when I was younger, but that grew out of style as he grew up, too. I remember him pushing me on the tire swing in the front yard when Daddy hung it on the bough. He would play cops and robbers with me, too; sometimes he would even let me use his Pez candy shooter gun. After Mom’s death, he stayed to himself until he was old enough to join the military. Maybe all those games of cops and robbers we played as kids inspired him to do something bigger in life. He did two tours in Iraq, but like most veterans, he never came back the same. JJ was quiet, some would call him weird for it, but he just didn’t do well with social interaction. After his time in the military, he was practically a recluse. Between Maggie’s bitterness and the hermit that JJ had become, I was the only one that Daddy was bonded with. 

When I was picking an undergraduate major, it made sense to get a degree in Business Management because I was the only heir that my dad could trust. He passed his eager mind and passion for hard work down to me, no doubt. Dad just encouraged me to hit the books instead of hitting nails into boards like he did. I went to University of Georgia because my dad encouraged me to get out of Tracy City and see more of the world. It only felt right that I made his favorite football team my Alma Mater.

 I met Tommy at University of Georgia my sophomore year of college. He was a finance major, and I was business, so we had classes together for a couple of semesters. He caught my eye in those lecture halls. Ferdinand the Bull, I thought to myself. He was six foot four, two hundred something pounds, and was the gentlest man I had ever met. He held every door he went in, smiled at everyone, and called me “Miss Grace” for the first three weeks we had classes together. He sat on my row, and I think he intentionally almost failed the class so I would tutor him. We spent every Sunday together that spring studying, and by the summer, we were dating.

He graduated the same semester as me, and we moved back to Tracy City together that fall. 

Tommy’s family life was far from perfect, just like mine. He spent much of his childhood in and out of foster homes until he was adopted at 14. He rarely talks about the time before his adoption, but I know that brokenness and pain from those years made him the kind and gentle man he is today. I have learned so much about enjoying life from him in the years we have been together. He met my dad the spring we graduated, and it was my father’s greatest honor to give Tommy a hard time. When Dad quit giving him a hard time after four months, he began to really show how much he liked Tommy. He hired him into the company as an apprentice, and like everyone else, Tommy worked his way from the bottom up to being the lead Financial Advisor for the company.

 I took my father’s offer to be a site supervisor and oversaw three different construction projects in the first year I worked for him. I worked my way up, and in five years, I became the Chief Operations Officer of Bennett Construction Group, just like my father wanted. His life’s goal was to see one of his children successfully reap from what he had sown, and my life’s goal was to make my daddy proud. Without my daddy in the picture, I realized on that drive home that day that my new life’s goal is to protect the empire he gave to me. 

I pulled in my driveway, and Tommy was waiting on the porch swing. It was barely past noon when I got home, so we had a few hours to figure this out before the kids were out of school. 

“Come sit with me, Honey. I called Kilby. He had to take care of some business, and he will be here as soon as he’s finished.”

 I told him everything the police told me and began to fall apart. I wouldn’t do it in front of my employees, nor would I do it in front of strangers, just Tommy. As he held me, I knew he understood. There was anger, there was grief, there was sadness, and there was loss being purged out of my soul that Thursday on my porch swing. My mind was a river of memories as I remembered a time when my daddy took me to my first car show. I felt like a million bucks walking through the lanes of muscle cars and hot rods because I was with my daddy. He had a way of making everything special. Even though it was a charity car show, and they were all guys he had worked with at one point or another, my dad walked around like a celebrity, shaking hands, and catching up. He always introduced me as ‘his Jewel’, which made sense because it was my middle name and emphasized how I was his favorite. My brother, JJ, wanted to play outside, and my sister, Maggie, had to be pried away from Mom just to go to school when she was little. It was always clear that I was Daddy’s girl. I felt so lost without knowing he wasn’t in this world with me anymore.

Roger Kilby is the best attorney in the entire southeast and has been my daddy’s friend since they were in their early twenties. When Kilby moved to Tracy City, he made friends with James Bennett after he renovated an old office building for Kilby’s law firm, and the two have worked in symbiosis for the last forty years. Anytime my daddy needed an attorney, he called

Kilby. As he walked on the porch steps, I stood.

 “What do you know?” I asked promptly. 

Kilby took off his sunglasses. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out of town? That would have made this a lot easier.” 

I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t feel like I needed to, Kilby. I didn’t expect someone to kill my dad while I was in Costa Rica.” 

“Well, they strike when you least expect it. Especially when your father doesn’t believe in using a bank; only the hole in his box springs.” He said.

 “Have you been to the house?” I inquired.

 “It’s ransacked. His guns, some jewelry, and any cash they could find was taken, but they didn’t think about lifting his bed. They would have really made out like bandits if they would have. The deeds and the majority of his savings were in the safe under the rug covering the floor under his bed, so that’s secured. They didn’t take anything of significant value, though. It’s almost like it was a staged robbery and murder scene.” Kilby had already taken a seat in the chair across from Tommy. 

I began pacing. “And I assume they trashed the computers for the cameras when they went out, too, right? God, I feel like I can’t breathe.  How—HOW did this fly under the radar?

Who would come in like this? Wha-” 

Kilby stopped me in my tracks and tangent. “You know exactly who would do this.”

 As much as I didn’t want to, I had been waiting for someone to bring her up. It’s been almost 20 years since my sister had ‘the big falling out’ with Dad, and nothing in the family has been the same since. JJ was the only one Maggie would speak to, probably because, like her, JJ was an avoidant and ran from his problems. He didn’t like confrontation, and frankly, I think he just didn’t feel much of anything. She may have known Dad would be alone, and JJ would be the careless one to tell her if that was the case. 

“So, what are our next steps?” I asked, waiting for someone to say something to calm me down. 

Kilby nodded in agreement. “Let me see what I can do.” 

Kilby wanted to speak with Maggie before he got the authorities involved. She lived thirty minutes away in Manchester. It was an apartment on the lower east side. The crime rate wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t the best either. It was the type of neighborhood you would want to go into packing just in case anything happened. Maggie came to the door when Kilby knocked.

  “What’s the meaning of this, Kilby? The old man dies, and you come looking through my closets?” She replied, arms folded.

“You are the only one with a vendetta, Maggie. Can we please just talk?” Kilby asked.

 “What’s there to talk about? He’s dead. Looks like he got what he deserved. Finally. I can sleep soundly at night knowing that bastard has freed this earth.” She hatefully responded.

 “Come on, Maggie. Show some decency,” Kilby replied. 

She cut her eyes and narrowed her vision at the old man. “You want to talk to me about decency? That man had no decency. He didn’t involve me or JJ when he was ‘building his empire’. The only one he cared about was his precious little Gracie,” she said mockingly. “The only reason she idolizes him is because she isn’t old enough to remember how bad it was when Mom was alive. Now she takes two-week vacations three or four times a year, thriving on his hard work. They think that is decent and fair?” Maggie’s face had turned the same shade of red that mine turns to when I get angry. 

 “If you’re still upset about things that happened twenty some odd years ago, you need to grow up. This attitude isn’t helping to plead your innocence.” Kilby pleaded.

“Screw you and screw the rest of the Bennett bloodline. Come back with a warrant if you want to come inside.” And with that, she slammed the door in his face. 

As Kilby returned that evening to tell me about the events of his day, I was furious and somehow heartbroken at the same time. She sees my father as the villain because he chose his children instead of chasing our insane mother. If Maggie was going to choose this lifestyle of misery for herself, that was fine, but she didn’t have to bring the rest of us down with her. 

“She must have spoken to JJ to have known that I was out of town last week,” I said.

 “Why would she want to know that?” He asked.

 “I don’t know, Kilby. That’s why none of this makes sense.” I replied.

“Do they own any shares in Bennett Construction?” he asked. 

“No, why?” I asked. 

He cocked his head, inquisitively. “Because they are about to. When your father died, it is written in the bylaws that his children each split his shares evenly. Roughly thirty-three percent each. Does that sound familiar?” 

I sink in my chair. “Oh, God. So, they are coming after the company, not just Dad.”  “Possibly. How much of the company did your father own?” He asked. 

“Fifty percent. A third of that is sixteen percent. Our shareholders will pull out if the company is in the hands of JJ and Maggie. They know how irresponsible they are.” 

Kilby sipped his coffee. “Don’t panic. Let’s just see what happens.” 

I almost clutched my pearls. “See what happens? Tommy, as the company’s financial advisor, how much is my family’s company worth?”

 He looks up, stunned that I’ve called on him at such a time of disagreement. “Roughly four and a half million dollars.”

I cocked my head. “Four and a half million dollars. And you just want to see what happens, Kilby? Come on!”

Kilby argued, “Grace, there is nothing we can do yet. We need to let the autopsy come back and see what happened to your father before we start holding court cases we don’t have. We can’t let this get out of hand. Tommy, a little help here?” We were both standing at this point.

 Again, Tommy stunned, shakes his head. “Honey, maybe he is right. It’s been a hectic forty-eight hours. Maybe we should just take a break and do something else.”

 I begin to pace again. “My father is dead, my company is at risk, and the two of you want me to wait it out and do something else? I need to take a walk. And do something other than sit here.” 

Kilby begins to follow me. “Grace, please just-” 

“Let her go,” Tommy interrupts Kilby. “She needs a moment to fall apart. Alone. Give her a moment.” 

I go to the tree line on the edge of my property. I never would have thought that my father’s death would have brought back so many disgruntled memories from my youth, and suddenly, that’s the only place my mind wants to go. I walk the tree line for a couple yards, and I recall the night of ‘the big falling out’ between Dad and Maggie. She had just turned twentythree and had burned through the trust fund that Dad had set up for her. She had no clue what she wanted in life. She tried getting a CNA degree and then a cosmetology license. Then she wanted to be a blogger. When all of that failed for her, she wanted a position in Dad’s company. He said he would put her in a starting position, making twelve dollars an hour, working on a jobsite. She would start from the bottom and work her way up, because she ‘needed real-world working experience’ in management before she could work higher up in the company. He wanted her to oversee a new grocery store being built off Cedar Avenue, a very busy highway in Tracy City, and if she could handle that, he would consider her for an office position when promotions come around again. He was treating her like any other employee, and she hated it. She blew up on him in an instant, bringing up every time he disciplined her as a child to every softball game he missed and anything else in between he did that wronged her. She ranted about Mother leaving and her death. She ranted about Dad making her go to public school instead of home schooling her. She looked just like our mother with the similarities of a toddler throwing her fists around. 

Dad didn’t scream. He didn’t call her names. 

He sat at the kitchen table, just said that he loved her, and this is what was best for her.

She left, like her mother, with all her belongings in her car, and cursed him the whole way out.

As she left, Daddy turned to me, sitting on the couch, and said, “Oh, what webs we weave.” 

She never came to another holiday gathering, birthday celebration, or graduation after that. Kilby always knew her address, and Dad would send her a Christmas card, wherever she was. Why would she want to burn it all to the ground now? My phone went off.

 Come back to the house. Something just came up. From Tommy. 

Great, What now? I thought. 

Tommy and Kilby were standing in the kitchen.

 “The detective just called. He found a set of prints at the scene. They’re bringing Charlie

Burk in for questioning. That name mean anything to you?” 

I stood puzzled. His name rang a bell but didn’t set off any alarms. Charlie Burk. I shook my head. “Have you run any background checks on him yet?”

“Have I run any background checks on him yet? Child, please. I’m gonna act like you didn’t ask me that. He is 46, he lives in Manchester, and he’s got a rap sheet longer than your credit card statement. I’m still waiting on his phone records to be faxed to me.” Kilby stood, rather pleased with himself.

“Okay, so he sounds questionable. Where were his prints?” I ask.

“A door frame going into your dad’s room and on some mail by the couch. He was definitely in there. We just want to know why.” Kilby said.

 “Are you questioning him?” I ask.

 “No, not yet. I’ve got the sheriff ready to tell me whatever I need to know.” He replied.

 As we are having the conversation, the fax machine in the office starts sounding.

 “Ah,” Kilby said as he crossed the room headed for the melodious jingle coming from the printing machine. 

He accepted the fax, and paper began shooting out of the printer, enough paper to cut down two redwoods. He stacked it meticulously and began combing through texts and phone call records, looking for anything that would give him a hint. After thirty minutes of hunting, he recognized a number. 

“Here. Here we go. We’ve got him. He’s been calling your sister and texting her for over a month.” He said as he held his finger in place on the paper. 

 “What? What does it say?” I ask. 

“‘Just follow through and nothing will go wrong.’ ‘It’s all part of the plan’... some stuff you definitely don’t want me to read out loud…” Kilby’s voice trailed off.

 “Okay, okay we get it. So, they were planning something. Is it enough evidence to convict him?” I ask.

Kilby sighed. “Maybe. The courts will decide, but it looks like your sister is involved too.

This is not good, Grace.” 

I knew it wasn’t going to be pretty, but I didn’t know how messy it was going to get. Maggie hires a hit man to finish off our father and make off with a few pieces of collateral? I made up my mind that I was going to have a conversation of my own. 

I headed to Manchester to Maggie’s apartment on Sunday morning. I wanted to strangle her, but I knew I had to keep a level head and see what I could get out of her. I pulled in, and her windows had the blinds up. No—the closer I got, I could see that her blinds were gone, along with all the furniture on her property. She had moved out in the two days since Kilby had been here. Well, if this doesn’t look suspicious, I don’t know what else does. I walk up to the door to see what’s inside, and there’s a sandwich bag with a note on the door. The note in the bag says GRACE written on one folded side. I took the note, and ran back to my car to read it, in hopes that no one had seen me at her door.

 Grace, 

            If you’re reading this, you’ve probably caught on to my plan by now. Meet me in the old Methodist Church parking lot Tuesday night, 7:30. Come alone. 

-M 

As if this story could not get more chaotic, it just did. Not only does Maggie own the fact that she’s involved, but she wants to discuss it with me. I can’t decide if I need a drink or a punching bag; I don’t have the energy to deal with the gym, so my bottle of Svedka at home it is. I get home, throw on my sweats, and grab the icy bottle of vodka out of the freezer, and begin heading to my bedroom. Tommy sent the kids to his parents for the a few days so I could have some time alone, and I appreciated the sensible gesture. I didn’t want my kids to see me like this. Not in the broken way that I saw my mother. I sent a picture of the note to Kilby, and twenty minutes later, there was a knock at my front door. Kilby wastes no time when given new information. He came in ready to talk business, and I was ready to drink.

He peered at my new wardrobe. “What’s this? Taking in the hobo aesthetic, are we?” “What do you want, Kilby.”  I reply. 

“I want to know what you’re going to say at that meeting tomorrow. Clearly, she feels like she has the ball in her court. This is not her circus, and she is not the ringleader. What are you going to do?” He stood waiting for an answer.

 I chugged another gulp of alcohol. “Well, she’s clearly ready to talk, so let’s talk! Let’s hear what she’s gotta say! And let’s stick it to her because, damnit, she’s responsible for all of this. So yes, let's have a conversation about how I would like to kick my big sister’s ass after twenty years of pent-up aggression that gets fueled by my father’s murder, which she’s obviously involved in. Yes, Kilby, let’s make a plan. Right now.” 

I glared at him, and he could sense my hostility. “I see. I will let you have your feelings about it and, perhaps, come back in the morning? Yes. See you at eleven in the morning, Grace.

Goodnight.”

 He headed for the door, and I said, “Kilby, I’m sorry, I just…I can’t deal with this right now. I need to not be okay with all of this for a little while. I’m sorry,” I said weepily. 

Kilby turned, and looked at me with such pity. “Don’t be sorry, Mrs. Grace. It gets heavy, carrying the weight of an empire. Take an evening to feel it. Goodnight.”

 And like that, he was gone. I continued to get drunk for the next few hours. As my husband came to bed for the evening from his study, he put the half empty bottle of liquor back in the freezer, picked me up, and carried me and the heavy weight of my empire to bed. 

 The next morning, as promised, Kilby was back at eleven to make a plan of action for my conversation with Maggie.

            “Have you considered what you might say to her?” 

“Not entirely, no, but I know I’ve got to address what she’s done.” I said.

 Kilby looks at me sternly. “Play dumb, Grace. Don’t act like you know everything. The phone records, texts, prints, none of that can come out at first. Just act like you’re going to talk about the funeral and his belongings. That’s all.”

 “You think she will buy that?” I scoffed.

Kilby levels his eyes. “I think it will buy us some time and let us feel her out. See where her head is.” 

“If that’s what you want, it’s what I’ll do.” I reply respectfully.

            I got to the church about fifteen minutes early Tuesday evening, in hopes I would scout out where she had us meeting. In true fashion, Maggie was already there waiting for me. She got out of her black SUV and met me in the middle of the parking lot.

 “Little sister, my you’ve grown up. I guess all the money Dad put into your college fund went to good use. I’m sure he’s proud. Well, was, proud.” She looked so smug.

I walk closer. “I hope you don’t find pleasure in this, Maggie. Dad was a good man, whether you saw it or not. I didn’t come here for pleasantries. I came to ask if you had any input on the funeral, whenever it may be, and to see if there is anything of Dad’s belongings that you want.” 

As I’m finishing my sentence, I hear another vehicle pulling into the parking lot. It’s JJ’s beat-up Honda. 

 “And you’ve called him to meet with us as well. How nice. We really should have done a dinner or something.” I say sarcastically.

Maggie levels her eyes on me. “I didn’t come here for pleasantries, either, Grace. We have input, alright. Dad didn’t give us much of a say while he was living, and we want a say now that he’s dead. Isn’t that right, JJ?”

 As he’s crossing the parking lot, he replies, “I think so.”

 “JJ? What do you have to say?” I reply. 

 Maggie laughs. “Well, we didn’t come to talk casket colors with you, Grace. You may be Chief Operations Officer, but we now own our portions of Bennett Construction, and we want to pull our shares.” 

“Pull your shares? Pulling your shares would bankrupt the company. We could never do that.” I spoke. 

 JJ steps closer and replies, “Oh, you may not, but we could definitely do that. If we have anything due to us, it’s the shares from that company.” He says coldly. 

“So, you’re willing to take over a million dollars from the company to get back at Dad from across the grave? Make that make sense. It’s nothing to him now.” I felt so alone as I stood defending my father’s name to his own flesh and blood.

 You think we’re that stupid, Grace?” Maggie scoffed. “We’re doing this to come after you. What better revenge to take on Dad than to pull the rug out from under his ‘jewel’ all together? He gave and gave to you. Probably to make up for all the shit he did to us and Mom. And you ate it up too, didn’t you? Took the cars, the clothes, the full ride to UGA. And what did he give you as a reward? Only the keys to the kingdom. He idolized you and you did him. You wanna know why you two got along so well? You are just alike. Both of you are selfish, and I hate that I share the same blood as you. As soon as I get my shares, I will make it where no one will ever know I am tied to you people again.” She sighed a breath of relief after she shared her feelings.

 I stood in disbelief at the stupidity that was born from the same womb as me. How could two adults be so divergent of personal responsibility that they blame all their life’s misfortunes on one person? 

“You know, Dad may not have been perfect, but he surely didn’t deserve this.” I said. 

 “And only you think so. Rot in hell, Grace. Have Kilby write up the Agreement for the Transfer of Shares, and we will go by his office and sign for them.” She and JJ turned to walk

off. 

 “Before or after you bail out your hitman?” I ask. 

They both turned in their tracks. “What did you just say?” Maggie quickly replied.

 “I was just wondering, when you were going to go by Kilby’s office to sign the papers.

Before or after you bail out your hitman?” 

Maggie looked at me, almost bewildered. “You’ve actually lost your shit now, Grace. To make accusations like that is really above your station.” 

JJ didn’t say a word. He stood there, almost waiting for orders to run. There was movement coming from my car. 

“We know about Charlie Burk. You were in the Military with him, JJ, and you were screwing him, Maggie.” Kilby busted their bubbles with the news.

 I pulled my jacket to the side to reveal my wire. He heard the whole conversation from

inside the car. 

 Kilby begins to clean his glasses as he walks toward our circle. “You see, he’s not as strong as you thought he would be. He had warrants in 4 other states for armed robbery, fraud, and a few other felonies. When he was staring in the face of the death penalty for murder, it didn’t take him long to sing like a canary. Just because he’s a felon, folks, doesn’t mean he’s all hard all the time. It’s also very convenient that your father’s autopsy came back today. After Burk beat and crippled him, he had help getting him out of the house into the yard. He couldn’t crawl the seven acres back to the house after Charlie and JJ dumped him that far out. Oh, right, we know JJ was involved, too!” 

Both siblings looked sick. I stood there, taking it all in. 

“The cameras you thought you trashed had a backup drive at the company that not even Grace knew about. Bennett’s boys working in IT did, though. We saw you two boys going into the house and coming out with an unconscious James Bennett. Tell me, JJ, did you get a few swings in on your old man, too? Or did you just leave all the beating to the hitman?”

 Both siblings stood motionless. I don’t know if they expected their plan to go off without a hitch, but there was no way this was going to end their way. 

Kilby was not finished. “Aside from the phone records, we knew Maggie was involved from her credit card records. She had Burk living in a hotel in Tracy City for the last month, waiting for an opportunity to strike. His autopsy revealed that he had been struck in the head, causing a bleed, and leading to a stroke. He had been dead almost 4 days before JJ called the authorities. You did it messy, folks. Really messy. Now it doesn’t matter what you want done with those shares; Grace will take care of them while you rot for the next lifetime in a jail cell.

Enjoy.” 

As he was delivering his speech, the authorities arrived. Both of my siblings were arrested and charged with murder. They, nor Charlie Burk, will ever see a free day again.        Kilby had called me back at two o’clock that Monday afternoon and told me to meet him at his office immediately. He debriefed me on everything that was told at the church that Tuesday night. Keeping my composure was harder that day than the day they put my daddy’s coffin in the ground.

 Yesterday, I said goodbye to my favorite person on Earth. I am an orphan in this world now; both parents are dead, and my siblings are locked away for the unforeseeable future. In less than two weeks, everything I knew was turned upside down. I still cannot believe that my father is dead. It’s even more unfathomable to think of the nature of his death at this point. If I know anything coming out of this heart-shattering experience, I know the power of the choices you make. I didn’t understand it until now, what my father said the day Maggie left; ‘Oh, what webs we weave.’ What did it mean? I know now. The choices we make early in life that seem so insignificant weave and change into bigger choices, and before you know it, there are webs stretched so far and wide that you can’t even tell where they started. Your web joins with someone else’s web, and before you know it, there’s a netting of shared influence blanketing every decision you’ve ever made.  I believe he was saying ‘Oh what messes we get ourselves into,’ or something similar to it. His web weaved its way into creating us- a broken family beyond repair. Sometimes, messes can lead to good things, too. Had it not been for my dad’s mess of a web, I might not have learned the wisdom from him that I did. I might not have made it to UGA, or met Tommy, or taken over my father’s business. My father’s web started as a small piece of a larger broken web, and he took that and made his own set of webs.  The webs we weave can make us bitter, or they can make us better. I believe that I am proof of that. I like to think that when it’s all said and done, a spider sits back, looking at its work, and like God, says, it is good. I hope that my father may look on from wherever the afterlife took him and can say it is good for the webs he weaved in me.  

"Who knew that a baby dinosaur could bring two people together?"

by Dakota Hudson

The slamming of the front door announced the arrival of a defeated Griffin. It was bad enough that he had to put up with that stalker. Now, Jimmy is forcing them to work together. Griffin saw through Jimmy’s facade.

‘I’m simply fostering workplace relations.’

Jimmy’s words echoed in Griffin’s head.

“Yeah, right,” Griffin said aloud as he sat on his couch.

In an hour, the stalker will be in his apartment. The only place in the world where Griffin felt at ease. The thought that Marie Scott would be visiting was comparable to the thoughts of a German soldier surprised by the D-Day invasion force. Leaning back into his seat, Griffin removed his glasses and rested his eyes. Only to be interrupted by a playful squeak.

“SQUEAK!”

Griffin turned to the right and saw a scurrying blur climbing beside him. His glasses revealed Roxy. No matter how upset he was, Griffin always looked forward to seeing his fluffy bundle of joy.

“Hey, Roxy girl! Did you have a good day?” Griffin asked as he scratched the top of Roxy’s scaly head.

For a while, Griffin was worried about leaving Roxy alone. The usual concerns of the little tyrant getting hurt or making a big mess were always at the forefront of Griffin’s mind whenever he was away. Luckily, Roxy did well on her own. She would nap for a large part of the day, and her toys kept her occupied throughout the rest of the day. Only once did she make a mess, but that was due to Griffin forgetting to lay down a puppy pad.

However, with the arrival of Marie, more serious thoughts arose in Griffin. The thought of Roxy being discovered before it was time to reveal her quickly became the biggest concern. The only solution was to put Roxy in the bedroom when the stalker came over. Roxy usually stayed quiet and thus wouldn’t provoke suspicion.

In response to Griffin’s earlier question, Roxy replied with another playful but louder squeak. The T. rex infant leaped from the couch and ran toward her toy box. Griffin watched in amusement as the little dinosaur dug through her box to pull out a brightly colored rope. The chew rope was Roxy’s favorite toy, as evidenced by the multiple bite marks lining the sides. It was a wonder as to how this rope managed to remain intact.

“Wanna play?” Griffin asked as Roxy brought the rope to him. After she set the rope at Griffin’s feet, Roxy got into a submissive pose by lowering her head to the floor and putting her tail up in the air. Roxy remained silent, but her eyes said it all.

“Okay then. Get ready!” Griffin said as he got up. Roxy mirrored him by springing to her feet. The little dinosaur twitched in anticipation. The tip of her tail shook until she saw Griffin’s arm rise. Her tail went still. Griffin saw the T. rex primed in a crouch, her amber eyes focused on the rope. All it took was those two magic words.

“KILL IT!”

            Meanwhile, down the hall, a flustered Marie slowly marched to Griffin’s apartment. She could not believe the way Griffin acted. Every time she went through the earlier event mentally, her grip on the story notes tightened. The thing Marie did was a little harmless snooping, and Griffin escalated it into an office war. On the other hand, she did look at something private. Admittedly, this was a bad thing to do. Still, there was no need for the extreme and unproportional reaction.

The emotions deep down in her psyche were like a nuclear chain reaction. Sure, there were hints of an old crush coming back. Marie figured it was simply high school nostalgia. Yet, Griffin had become a darker individual, and this concerned her deeply. He was far more guarded than he used to be and insisted on holding on to the past. What happened to him?

A week ago, he refused to accept that it was her. Yesterday, he was bitter toward her for changing. Marie wasn’t going to apologize for being herself. She wasn’t a time capsule or a fossil. The changes she endured gave her an identity. Her own identity.  Of course, concern has a funny way of evolving into something else.

There was no denying it, and when she expressed how she felt, Griffin couldn’t take it. He freaked out essentially. A landslide… no… more like the pyroclastic flow of an erupting volcano swept over the studio. How does admitting a crush on that special someone translate into such a response?

Marie had a couple of ideas, but she just wanted to get through the storyboards and call it a night. She couldn’t help but take Griffin’s response as rejection, but Marie figured there was something more to it. In a way, it puts her in mind of traumatized people having a flashback.

Rounding the corner, Marie saw apartment 4077, and the door was open. So, she figured that she would knock and wait to be let in. That’s assuming he would even let her in. Marie froze when she got to the door and looked inside. Her eyes widened, and an icy silence overtook the moment.

            Small, alligator-like jaws quickly snapped up the dangling rope. Hissing escaped Roxy’s clamped jaws as she thrashed her body and head. Each movement mustered by her small frame generated a surprising amount of strength. Such displays made one wonder how strong Roxy will be when fully grown.

Another twist of her head nearly made Griffin lose the tug-of-war. Griffin was deeply invested in this game. It certainly relaxed him from the stress he felt coming in. The fun made Griffin cheeky, so he decided to pull a fast one on Roxy. As the little tyrant continued to yank ceaselessly, she was lifted into the air.

Roxy held on tightly to the rope with her teeth. She was a little stumped about what to do. Griffin smirked, thinking he had the upper hand on the dinosaur, until Roxy began to thrash her body about in a crocodile fashion, which resulted in a stray kick.

A total system reset befell Griffin as he hit the ground and grabbed his groin in pain.

“Ow…” was the only word that Griffin could muster.

Roxy triumphantly paraded around Griffin, waving the rope like a flag with her jaws. After dropping the rope, Roxy took the opportunity to lick Griffin in the face.
“Adding insult to injury?” Griffin managed to say to Roxy as he got up.

The sound of falling papers caught Griffin’s attention. He turned to look, only to find the front door wide open and a dumbstruck Marie standing in it.

“F—!” Griffin said in stunned anger.

            Roxy detected the angry tone of her human voice. She immediately faced the potential threat that was at the door. The little tyrant let out a growl worthy of an attack dog. Yet, the scent of this threat was odd. Roxy wasn’t sure why this scent was weird. The scent of this threat was like her ‘father’s,’ but it had this distinctive quality. It was oddly familiar. The scent, for whatever reason, softened Roxy’s reaction. Roxy tried to maintain composure. After all, her human was alert. However, the scent of this intruder was welcoming.

Before Roxy could make a move, she was snatched up by Griffin and quickly taken into the bedroom. When the door closed, Roxy ran onto the bed and hid among the covers. Whatever this confusing creature was, Roxy knew her ‘daddy’ would kill it or something.

‘If only she were an adult,’ Griffin thought as he returned to the living room. His mind was on the verge of panic. The secret of Roxy’s existence was potentially out! Griffin’s mind raced to come up with a solution to prevent that. Would the Stalker Chick keep Roxy a secret? No matter what, Griffin had to protect Roxy at all costs. Even if that meant doing unthinkable actions.

Marie, on the other hand, could not believe what she saw. As she struggled to pick up her papers, Marie tried to figure out what she saw. She wasn’t drunk or on anything. She wasn’t hallucinating. It wasn’t a robot. No. It was a living, breathing, and livid dinosaur. A baby dinosaur, but a dinosaur nonetheless. It was probably a tyrannosaur looking at the infant’s two-fingered hands. Plus, the T. rex was Griffin’s favorite dinosaur, after all. Marie quickly came to terms with what she saw. ‘You did it. You crazy son of a b—-, you did it!’ was the single thought that shot through Marie’s brain.

‘If looks could kill’ would be the appropriate phrase to describe Griffin’s expression. If this phrase wasn’t an overused understatement. Maire’s focus shifted to him, but she could not shake off the awe. Only quick thinking allowed her to address him about the scene she had just seen.

“Um… are you okay? That looked like it hurt,” Marie said in meek sternness.

            Griffin stopped. He was expecting an expression of amazement or terror. The practiced responses Griffin had uploaded to these expected expressions were useless to this question. The glare left his face, and he soon relented. Remembering the game with Roxy brought a small smile to Griffin’s face. A break in the usual void that marked Griffin’s face.

“It was a little painful, but I’ll be fine,” he said in a quasi-mechanical tone.

Despite the easing twinge of pain, Griffin remained relatively happy about the game with Roxy. Before Roxy, he wasn’t much of a pet person. Now, he understood what pet owners felt. Unfortunately, this thought was replaced by a more grim thought. The question about the secrecy of Roxy’s existence needed to be answered.

“What’s the price for your silence?” Griffin said as he ushered Marie inside and closed the door.

Marie saw how Griffin briefly lingered at the door, his eyes darting before closing the door. This just added to her renewed concern and her budding confusion.

“My silence?” Marie confusedly asked.

“Engineered lab animals not meant for agricultural use are to be terminated after the embryo reaches maturity,” Griffin responded cryptically.

“It…” Marie was interrupted.

“She,” Griffin corrected.

“She… she would have to be killed?” Marie resumed asking.

“Yes, unfortunately. Roxy would have to be euthanized. I hope the newly elected Congress successfully repealed the T-P Bioengineering Act. Not just for Roxy’s sake, but the law also prevents a lot of medical treatments that use animal chimeras with cloned human tissue,” Griffin explained at length.

            Marie stood in silence. It finally explained to her what Griffin meant by her ‘price.’ The seriousness of the situation didn’t prevent Marie from grinning. Griffin picked up on the cue. Even though he was a genius, it wouldn’t have taken one to figure out what Marie wanted. He knew her price. Out of responsibility to Roxy, Griffin bit the bullet hard. At least he didn’t have to like it. Griffin’s train of thought was interrupted by Marie.

“Can I see Roxy up close? Please,” Marie asked timidly like an excited child.

Griffin gave Marie a hesitant look. Marie took note of this. To be fair, she felt like a sleazy opportunist. Marie admitted to herself that she could do whatever she wanted with Griffin. Figuratively, she had him at gunpoint. However, she wasn’t going to go about this negatively. Marie wanted to have a chance to go out on a date with Griffin. So, Marie figured she needed to see if her silence was worth the asking price. A better look at Roxy would confirm the ‘fairness’ of her price.

“By the way, just so you don’t try to weasel out of this, Doctor, seeing Roxy isn’t my price,” Marie said in a semi-alluring voice, teasing him with the Whovian nickname.

“Of course,” Griffin said as his face grew stern.

He went to the bedroom door. A faint scratching and bird-like cooing could be heard on the other side. Upon opening the door, claws tapping and hitting wooden floorboards grew louder as a fluff-ball of reddish-brown and cream colored feathers stood at Marie’s feet.

Any nanoscopic speck of doubt in the back of Marie’s mind about the origin of birds was annihilated by a 50-megaton thought bomb of cuteness! Roxy was undeniably cute. Her overly big, amber-hued eyes gave a look that only the cutest kittens, puppies, and other baby animals could give. The fluffy down complimented this cuteness. If Marie let out a girly squeal, it most likely would have shattered all of the glass in a ten-kilometer radius.

Luckily, Marie suppressed the squeal out of fear it would frighten the little dinosaur. Artistic renditions of baby dinosaurs could be cute, but this was the real deal. She figured that Roxy would be an internet heartbreaker if she weren’t illegal.

            Roxy had other things in mind. Seeing that this other wasn’t a threat, Roxy ran rampant with her curiosity. Like an excited and friendly dog, the little tyrant sniffed Marie. Every few seconds, Roxy would dart to a new place and begin sniffing again. Marie’s scent had Roxy fixated. Whatever this strange quality of the other’s smell was, Roxy was strongly drawn to it. Marie started to giggle.

Watching the little dinosaur checking her out was a unique moment in history that would never be topped. Despite the understandable amazement most people would express, Griffin was tense. Even though he went over the ‘price’ silently, he kept a keen eye on Roxy. At first, Roxy was her usual bouncy self, randomly sniffing Marie.

Then, Roxy became more systematic in her sniffing. Something caught her attention, and Griffin knew it. His thoughts on Marie’s price were quickly placed on the back burner. The naturalist in Griffin took several mental notes of Roxy’s interaction with Marie.

Griffin wasn’t sure what Roxy would do after sniffing Marie. At best, she would finish and move on to something else. At worst, she may try to bite Marie. Griffin thought over why Roxy’s sniffing became organized. What was Roxy looking for? Marie didn’t seem to get annoyed or unnerved by this. It didn’t take long for Griffin to note what was unique about this situation. It was the first time Roxy met another female.

            Roxy stood back and looked at Marie. She cocked her head to the right and then to the left. The dinosaur made direct eye contact with Marie. Even for species separated by millions of years, eyes were the medium to communicate feelings. Marie’s heart began to melt with warm feelings. Roxy gave three head bobs and made a low and soft coo.

She proceeded to rub up against Marie’s legs in a cat-like fashion. Downy feathers tickled the skin exposed by Marie’s capris. Marie was captivated by the adorable moment. Roxy continued to rub on Marie’s legs and make cooing sounds.

Griffin wasn’t expecting this but quickly recognized the behavior.

“Marie, go ahead and pick her up,” Griffin said gently while observing Roxy.

Without a second thought, and perhaps against good judgment, Marie picked Roxy up and held the tyrant up against her shoulder like a baby. Roxy complied and relaxed, grasping Marie with her tiny two-fingered hands. The fluff ball felt so warm to Marie’s touch. Marie slowly made her way to sit down on Griffin’s couch. Roxy started to drift off once they were seated.

“This...this...is...epic!” Marie said quietly in subdued excitement.

Griffin looked at the floor, deep in thought. Given the observations, he had formed a hypothesis. To test this hypothesis, he was required to ask a question. It was an awkward question, and he figured that he would get a smart-ass answer.

“Marie, I have a question for you,” Griffin said, looking up from his floor gaze.

“Shoot!” Marie said, amused. She could tell it was a ‘special’ question. The faint blush on his cheeks and the cautious tone were dead giveaways.

“Are you menstruating right now?” Griffin asked bluntly, avoiding Marie’s slightly shocked gaze.

This wasn’t the type of special she had in mind for this question, but Marie rolled with it.

“Why? Need to know for future reference?” Marie said in a snarky tone.

“No. I think you have been imprinted on Roxy,” Griffin reported bluntly without explanation.

“Explain, please,” Marie said, confused about having her privacy invaded.

“Dinosaurs imprint their parents when they hatch like birds do today. However, most birds only use visual recognition to do this. Roxy, on the other hand, uses scent in addition to visual recognition. Your...scent… being full of estrogen triggered the imprinting behavior. Plus, you're the first woman she’s ever encountered,” Griffin explained, still avoiding Marie’s look.

            The scent part made Marie a bit self-conscious. Griffin didn’t have to explain anything further. Rather than sit in awkward silence, Marie decided to turn things around. She gave a devious smile.

“Sooo...I’m Roxy’s mommy now?” Marie asked in her snarky-but-sweet tone.

Griffin knew there was no turning back now. Imprinting was irreversible. If he tried to push Marie away, it may hurt Roxy’s development. Truth be told, Griffin should have seen this coming. He should have thought it through before allowing Marie to see Roxy. It was obvious that Roxy would have imprinted on Marie, especially since she had a strong feminine scent.

Griffin was surprised that Roxy wasn’t overwhelmed by sniffing Marie. Most animals are exposed to this scent at birth and become conditioned to it. In the past, dinosaur eggshells would have had traces of estrogen-infused bodily fluids. These traces would have done the conditioning.

Roxy’s egg was completely sterilized before her embryo was transferred to it. So, she wasn’t exposed to the motherly hormone, which could have left Roxy vulnerable to overstimulating by this scent. Yet, Roxy responded in the same way a baby bird would respond. A very fascinating scenario, but Griffin sighed. This situation had become a whole lot more complicated. Griffin was still silent and peering into the abyss. He failed to answer Marie.

“Earth to Griffin!” Marie said loudly for the second time. Roxy wiggled a little but didn’t wake up.

“Sorry,” Griffin said, snapping his trance.

“That’s a first,” Marie said with a smirk.

“Whatever. Listen, I’m not sure how this will play out. To answer your question, yes, you are Roxy’s surrogate mother,” Griffin said nervously.

Marie saw the troubled look on Griffin’s face. Not only did he have a troubled look, he attempted something uncharacteristic. He never could make actual eye contact. It was always an approximation. Just ever so slightly off, usually looking at the tip of a person’s nose. It made Griffin visibly uncomfortable when he did this.

While tragic, it reassured Marie that a part of the old Griffin she knew was in there. In the past, he did this when he needed to say something important to the person he was talking to. The struggle in front of Marie made her tone down her snarkiness.

“Griffin, what’s wrong?” Marie asked.

She tried to meet Griffin’s approximate gaze. There wasn’t much of a connection, but Marie could make do.

“I know what your price is,” Griffin said in a low voice.

Marie pieced together Griffin’s unspoken concern.

“Look, if we cross that bridge, we’ll figure it out. I just want to go on a date with you, and we’ll go from there. If it doesn’t work, I will still keep Roxy a secret,” Marie said softly in reassurance.

Marie’s promise had put Griffin at ease. There was so much uncertainty now, and Griffin had no choice. Roxy’s existence had to be protected. Plus, Griffin’s resistance to Marie from day one at the studio quickly evaporated. An old feeling slowly grew within himself as he considered the forced opportunity. There was only one thing to do.

“I’ll make the best of this,” Griffin said as he sat across from Marie. Marie was disappointed that he didn’t sit beside her and their baby. However, she decided not to press her luck by insisting he do so. After all, she was getting what she wanted.

“What would you like to do on Saturday?” Griffin asked.

He dreaded asking this question. For him, this line of conversation was out of his element. The dread passed as it was replaced by curiosity. If he was going to make the best of this, he had to see this in a positive light. What better way to do this than viewing it as a logic puzzle? A tricky one at that.

“Well, I’d like to attend the lecture you’re having at the museum,” Marie requested with a glint of hope.

Griffin had forgotten about the lecture. The museum and the dinosaur fossils there were his element. It was a second home for Griffin. Maybe this date would be favorable to him.

“Alright then. I probably wouldn’t have a choice about this anyway,” Griffin sighed. He leaned further back in the chair.

“How will you have fun with an attitude like that?” Marie said in a returning snarkiness.

“I’m sure you’ll have your way with me,” Griffin said in weak sarcasm.

Unfortunately, he didn’t catch on to the words he used.

“Kicking it into warp drive, are we?” Marie playfully flirted, seizing the opportunity.

This cue went right over Griffin’s head.

“I don’t see what FTL has to do with this,” Griffin said, confused.

“It’s a joke about going fast, Griffin,” Marie said, slightly annoyed.

The annoyance was short-lived. Roxy woke up suddenly and began to squirm. Her talons accidentally clawed Marie but didn’t do any damage. Roxy also began panting, and then this panting turned into heaving. Marie froze, and Griffin scrambled beside her to see if Roxy was okay. The little tyrant kept on squirming, so much so that Marie lifted Roxy away from her shoulder so Griffin could examine the dinosaur infant. When Roxy was half an arm’s length, she coughed and heaved…

“...ewe…” was the only word to escape Marie’s mouth. Everything from her chest to her lap was covered in a rancid gunk.

“She’s okay now. She just got too hot,” Griffin said absentmindedly as he took Roxy to get cooled off by the A/C vent.

“Good. Glad she’s okay. What about me?” Marie said, less than happy.

The gunk smelled of rotten meat. Marie didn’t even want to ask what this gunk was. Griffin simply ushered her to the bathroom and left her there momentarily. Marie stood and looked at the mirror. Yeah, she didn’t want to know what this gunk was made of. Griffin came back with a towel and a set of pajamas. 

“You may want to shower, and you can borrow these until your clothes are cleaned,”  Griffin said methodically.

Marie would have made a joke, considering she has to strip and wear Griffin’s clothes. Considering she was covered in a regurgitated meal, it was probably best to deal with that first. Griffin left and closed the door promptly. He didn’t tell her when the soap was or where anything else was.

Marie quickly looked around for the soap. Everything was where you’d expect it to be, and Marie only had one other question: what to do with her messed up shirt. The stink was getting worse. There was a knock on the bathroom door. Marie opened the door and had a canvas bag handed to her.

“Put your clothes in there and set them outside. I’ll put them on to wash,” Griffin said.

He stepped away, thinking Marie would finish first and then set out the soiled clothing. Griffin was wrong as the loud closing of the bathroom door alerted him to the bag of pungent clothes. The smell was horrible, and Griffin immediately threw the clothes into the washer without delay.

            Forty-five minutes later, Marie exited Griffin’s bathroom. The fabric of the pajamas had a stiff feeling to them. The PJs weren’t washed with fabric softener, it seemed, but Marie was just glad not to be covered in T. rex puke anymore. The only other downside was the clothes didn’t fit her that well. That was to be expected. The t-shirt was like a dress, and the sleep pants barely clung to her. However, Marie was gunk-free, and that was a plus.

Roxy walked up to Marie, her head hanging low in submission. The little tyrant  Marie leaned over, trying not to expose herself to pet Roxy.

“It’s okay, girl, I know you didn’t mean to.”

The dinosaur perked up and let out a big yawn. Marie got a good look at Roxy's teeth.

“I hope no one ever gets on the receiving end of those when you grow up,” Marie said with a small, nervous laugh.

Roxy paid no mind and headed to Griffin’s room to go back to sleep. Marie headed to the living room to find Griffin. He was sitting at a drafting desk at the far end of the living room.

“Done,” Griffin said as he put the finishing touches on the last drawing.

“You did the storyboards without me?” Marie asked with a fake pout.

Griffin looked over at her. He knew the pajamas were not going to fit her very well. Yet, an alien feeling briefly entered his mind and was quickly shut down by Griffin’s mental firewall. Marie noticed Griffin looking. A deep red blush covered her face. Griffin didn’t seem to notice the blush, though he did look away. Marie was crushing too much to capitalize on the very easy joke!

“Yes. I figured cleanliness was a major priority for you, so I went ahead and took care of it,” Griffin said as he averted his view of Marie's cherry-red expression with a smirk.

Marie took a look at Griffin’s work. Being storyboards, they weren’t nice and neat. However, they were far from being rough. The line drawings were done in pencil in a series of boxes like a comic strip. To the best of her ability, Marie saw that Griffin followed her notes to the letter. The action scenes were simple but dynamic and caught the tone rather nicely. Marie was forced to admit that Griffin was right about his abilities. He was at his best when he was alone. Marie regretted arguing with him earlier.

“Well, I don’t think there’s anything more to do with these then,” Marie said.

The washing machine sounded off with a loud buzz.

“Hold on one moment, please,” Griffin said as he dutifully got up to put Marie’s clothes in the dryer.

            While Griffin was away, Marie took a good look around his apartment. It wasn’t a typical bachelor pad, nor an OCD paradise. It was clean but had a lived-in look. Some areas were more or less untouched. The chairs in front of the couch and the small dining table were good examples. 

The cluttered areas with various books, notebooks, papers, and drawings are the areas Griffin favored. Marie saw that these favored spots were occupied at different points of the day. An example of this was the drawing desk having a used and empty coffee cup located on the edge of the clutter.

Marie also noticed that each favored spot served a role: the desk area was for art, the coffee table was for entertainment judging by the chess and game boards, and the bar between the kitchen and living room was for research based on the thick notebooks and mobile chalkboard. The setup was very structured, and Marie didn’t pry too much. After all, the incident from earlier proved how offended Griffin would become if something were disturbed.

Despite being in Griffin’s apartment for nearly two hours, Marie finally noticed the bookshelves that dominated the living room. The sheer number of books took her by surprise. There had to be at least a couple hundred. The organization of the books also took her off guard. The large tomes were mostly non-fiction, dealing with various fields of science. Sadly, Marie saw few fiction titles. The pattern of the tomes had a theme to them that Marie teased out as she looked at them.

“Hmm...math, physics, astronomy, geology, chemistry, ...biology…,” Marie said as she puzzled the organization. It didn’t take long for her to figure it out.

“One field leads into the other?” Marie asked herself as she confirmed her hypothesis.

Griffin returned, rubbing his hands. He always hated how fabric softener sheets felt. The sensation was like a gauze pad with a thin layer of wax-like plastic.

“Your clothes should be dried in 30 minutes,” he said as he stood at the entrance of the living room.

“Thanks. By the way, I like how you have your books organized. One subject gives rise to the other,” Marie said, facing him.

Griffin’s eyes lit up. It wasn’t often that someone made sense out of the madness. He had been wrestling with the slowly growing feeling. So far, he’d managed to ignore it until tonight. Try as he might, Griffin’s mental firewall could not stop the feeling. That familiar feeling.

“You’re welcome. Um… what else would you like to do on Saturday? After the lecture, that is,” Griffin asked quietly as he rubbed the back of his neck with his head hung low.

“Hmm... “ Marie gave it some thought. A more naughty impulse flashed through her mind, but Marie just let it pass through. She didn’t want to screw this up. So, it would be something they both like.

“Since we’ll be at the museum anyway, why not take a tour? Maybe you can rant about any inaccuracies their dinosaurs had?” Marie asked with a smirk. She recalled Griffin's rant this morning with Jimmy about the Ely Kish painting in the lobby.

“That sounds fun, though I promised the curator that I wouldn’t go on a rant,” Griffin answered, briefly recalling the last time he had a rant there. The museum staff begrudgingly started work on updating many of the exhibits.

“Still, the tour would be fun. Maybe we could pick up lunch afterward. Or maybe you could pick something,”  Marie said, drawing a blank.

Griffin felt that a ghost from the past had come to confront him after Marie’s response. There was only one other time that this conversation was held. The details were buried deep in his subconscious. The memories were slowly flooding Griffin’s neuron-crowded neocortex. Before this conversation went any further, Griffin needed to ask a question as the nervousness built up. The memories were red flags in his mind and had the same intensity as the instinct of pulling away from a burning hot object.

“Marie… I need to know… what happens if this fails?” Griffin asked, now visibly troubled.

Once again, he tried to make eye contact.

“You have nothing to worry about Griffin. All I want is a chance to go on a date with you. Whether it fails or succeeds, I promise to keep Roxy a secret,” Marie answered, comforting Griffin.

Griffin didn’t understand why he was getting so worked up about this. Despite the recent annoyances, he knew that the ‘old’ Marie was trustworthy, and it seemed that this trait had stayed with her. She wasn’t pushing him for immediate fulfillment but wanted to plan it out in advance.

Marie even took his thoughts on the matter into consideration. Yet, a specter of negative memories remained. Griffin noted and tried to think through every scenario resulting from this. By this point, Marie became a little impatient with the silence.

“Tell you what, let’s not worry about it. We’ll figure it out as we go,” Marie said, finally breaking the silence.

            Griffin remained silent but nodded in response to Marie. The offending, negative memories just wouldn’t clear out. There was one course of action that could alleviate the issue.
“Marie, I need to ask a question, but first… to be honest… I’m scared. Asking... this question... will... help me,” Griffin said with broken speech.

Marie stepped closer to Griffin, but she did not invade his space. Her heart was bleeding to comfort him, but it was hard to approach him in the usual manner. Marie wanted to take Griffin’s hand. However, this wouldn’t be helpful. So, she just hovered on the boundary of his space.

“Ask away,” Marie responded in a mild and meek tone.

Griffin, averting eye contact, turned toward Marie. Admittedly, Marie didn’t find this tenable in her efforts to help him. The social cues would be even more obscured, but this difficulty didn’t stop Marie. She didn’t pity him, nor did she get frustrated. Instead, she found his body language unique, and Marie quickly picked up on his ‘cues.’ It would take some work on her part, but if Griffin was willing to meet her halfway, perhaps their relationship could blossom. Now, she was getting ahead of herself. Luckily, Griffin spoke.

“Some backstory for you. A few years ago, I had a bad breakup, and I keep these memories buried. So my first question is, what do you see in me?” Griffin asked clearly with a sense of bravery.

“Well, I had a crush on you when we were kids. It’s resurfaced since we got back in touch. You have no desire to please or follow a group. You just set off in your direction. I know this is probably due to your condition, but I think it goes deeper than that. You embrace yourself, and this allows you to… pull off your dreams for one,” Marie said long-winded with a blush.

Griffin was convinced of her truthfulness. She didn’t need to say anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Griffin said with a growing smirk.

Marie was confused at first. Was he going to go back on their deal? Why the sudden mood swings? Before Marie could verbally retaliate, Griffin elaborated.

“I’m sorry for being an ass. A vestige of your older self is still there, and I can see it now. So, I’m sorry that I was an ass,” Griffin explained.

“Umm…” Marie was shocked.

Did he apologize? Well, to be fair, it was something Griffin needed to do for a while, she thought to herself.

“Last question, why did you ‘stalk’ me? That triggered a lot of hostility,” Griffin asked.

Marie was still in a stupor. The question was an unfair one at first to Marie. She didn’t stalk him. Well, she didn’t mean to. Of course, it wasn’t that bad. Then there was the incident… mildly creepy at worst? Who was she kidding?

“Griffin, you didn’t notice me after I was hired on. I found it harder to interact with you than it was before. As for the… incident…, that was just being desperate to get my resume in. So, yeah...Sorry!” Marie answered with a nervous twinge at the end.

“I see. Like I said, I’m sorry,” apologized Griffin again.

Marie saw Griffin move a little closer to her. A good sign since she was technically inside his bubble. Figuratively and maybe literally meeting her halfway. The dryer went off, breaking the moment. Griffin promptly left to attend to the dryer, leaving Marie in deep thought. She was finally reconnecting with him and possibly being more than just friends. Even if things didn’t work out, it was a unique encounter. Who knew that a Tyrannosaurus rex baby could bring two people together?