One
Black Coffee 

BEEP!
BEEP!
BEEP!

Beer cans clattered as Guinevere woke with a start. The first thing she saw was a red smear of light, and she thrashed in the sheets in a desperate effort to reach it. The numbers came into focus – 6:45am – and they rolled up and down, keeping time with her nausea. It took a few moments to find her way out of the waterbed, as she’d purposely placed the alarm clock on the far side of the room. She had to get up to shut it, and that meant she had to get UP. 

The bedroom was almost completely dark, less the black light from within the Nuon Klock on the nightstand. It was the model with flamingos and a palm tree under the sun – a gift from back in the day, when she was still in college. 

As her eyes adjusted to its dim purple glow, she stood on the pile of last night’s clothes and could now make out the general shapes around her: Bed. Nightstand. Beer cans. Trash can. Trash can! Moments later, even in the darkness, all Gwen could see was puke. 

***** 

“It’s – a – beautiful – morn’in,” Stephanie grumbled at the breakfast table when her mother emerged from the kitchen’s basement door, like a convict in a manhole. Steph’s granddad had rented Kingpin the previous evening, and the young girl had watched it with both of her grandparents, complete with popcorn. Steph had inherited her mother’s humor, a fact that her Papa made clear he didn’t appreciate. Audrey, Stephanie’s grandmother, had always been the opposite; she shot her granddaughter a subtle glare that said, please, darling...let’s not be an ass. 

“Late night, dear?” 

Jacob, Audrey’s husband, did not share her levity however, and lowered his newspaper in disapproval. He looked his daughter up and down, noticing that she had obviously just thrown herself together. “Where were you last night?” he asked. “We were supposed to watch that movie together. All of us, Gwen. You do remember that you have a daughter, right? You look like you woke up on the floor of a Greyhound station.” 

“How about a cup of freshly perked coffee?” Steph muttered from her oatmeal. 

“Coffee sounds good.” Gwen dodged the question. She kissed her mom and daughter, and then touched her dad on the shoulder before heading to the coffee machine and pouring a mug. She took it black. 

“I asked where you were last night?” Jacob’s words were firmer this time.

“At work,” Gwen said, a little too quickly. “You know that.”

“And afterwards?”

“Out...for a bit.” Guinevere stammered slightly. She regained composure, quickly reading the room. “Oh, God...I’m sorry. I totally forgot to get the movie.” 

“Papa got it,” Steph said flatly. She pushed her oatmeal aside before standing up and slamming her chair into the table. “We gotta’ go.”

The family watched the young girl storm from the kitchen.

Gwen hesitated. Something was wrong –

“But it’s not time for the bus.”

“It’s Tuesday, dear,” Audrey reminded. Gwen shook her head in confusion, causing her mother to force a smile. “Tuesday the fifteenth?” Again, deer in headlights. “The fifteenth of October?” Audrey pressed.

“Is...there no school today?” Gwen asked.

“Yes, but, Stephanie’s appointment is at 8:30,” Audrey said. “Remember? I made the appointment early, so we would only miss two periods?” 

Guinevere still didn’t get it. 

“Your daughter needs glasses,” Jacob said bluntly, standing in disgust. He adjusted his shirt and tightened his tie before adding, “And we need to talk.” His tone was not kind. 

The old man rinsed out his mug before gathering his keys, coat, and briefcase. Gwen watched her father kiss her mom, but intentionally left without saying goodbye to her. The back door opened and closed. The two women stayed silent while the garage door rose and a car engine started. 

Audrey cleared her throat.

“My credit card’s on the counter, dear.” 

***** 

The sky was the color of Reynolds’s Wrap as Guinevere’s white 92’ LeBaron coupe zipped down Washington Street hill with its windshield wipers flapping. The car stood out against the red, yellow, and brown trees around it; the valley was beautiful this time of year, and Gwen loved how the buildings within the approaching Peoria skyline were illuminated by little warm windows that shimmered within the cold rain. 

The wet street was busy with morning commuters, and she let up the gas when red and blue lights came up fast in the rear-view mirror. An East Peoria cop shot passed her car – whoosh! – before quickly veering right and up the I-74 ramp. Stephanie had been brooding since they left the house. 

“Look, I’m sorry.” Gwen broke the silence. “I completely forgot about this morning.” 9

“No shit,” the young girl muttered.

Gwen glared at her daughter in the passenger seat. “Language?”

Silence.

A second police car sped passed them, its flashing lights reflecting in the pavement.

“Steph,” Gwen said. “You know, I know that you’re angry now, but, you know, life gets a little complicated once you get to be an adult.” She waited a moment to see if that worked. One beat, two beats, then she added, “And you’re going to find that out soon, when you start high school in a couple of years.” 

Her head hurt from the bar last night. Gwen frowned on realizing she had forgotten to take ibuprofen before leaving home. This day was not going well. 

“Next year,” Stephanie grumbled.

“What’s that?”

“I start high school next year.”

“I knew that,” Gwen said quickly. “What I mean is that you’re about to be in ninth grade...and then you’ll graduate, and then you’ll be off to college.”

“And that means what?” Steph asked.

“It means that you’re growing up fast, and that you’re going to find out...” her voice trailed off. Up ahead, two more police cruisers now turned onto the approaching interstate – there must be a really bad accident. Gwen sighed and called uncle. “Hell Steph, I don’t know what that means. I’m just really, really sorry.” She put her blinkers on. Her daughter’s eyes widened. 

“Why are we slowing down?” Steph asked, sitting up. 

“Because your mother needs another cup of coffee,” Gwen told her, turning into the Hardee’s off the interstate. She entered the drive thru and stopped at the outdoor menu. She rolled down the window and ordered. “Want anything?” 

The young girl shook her head and crossed her elbows.

“Suit yourself.”

“We’re going to be late,” Steph grumbled.

“No, we won’t,” Gwen assured her, pulling up to the window. She undid her seatbelt, paid, got her beverage, and placed it in the cup holder. She then circled the restaurant and slowed at the parking lot’s entrance, waiting for traffic to clear. Stephanie realized her mother hadn’t rolled up the window yet –

“Seriously? You’re seriously going to smoke in the car?”

Yes, sweetie.” Gwen tried – and failed – to hide the frustration in her voice. Fuck it, she thought and let the sarcasm roll. “In addition to coffee, your mother also requires a cigarette. Coffee, cigarette. The two go hand in hand. Just like a mother and her equally loving daughter.” Her temples were pounding, now. An idea popped into her head. “You don’t have any aspirin, do you?” 

“Just...go,” Stephanie told her. Her eyes had a shiny glaze. “You can drop me off at the doctor and I’ll find my way back.” 

“You’ll take a bus?” Gwen asked, locating her pack and shoving a Kool in her mouth. She fumbled beneath the seat for a lighter. 

“Maybe,” Steph said. “Or maybe I’ll just take a cab.” 

“A cab? Really? One of those dirty airport cabs?” “Yes.” 10

“

The cabs that take the drunks home at night?”

“Well, you would know.”

Gwen scoffed. “And how exactly would you pay for that?”

“I can pay.”

“Really?”
“I said I can pay.”

“You have a job that I don’t know about?” Gwen’s tone was growing curt. She found a working lighter and lit up in the driver’s seat. Washington was busy this morning, but she saw a break in headlights coming through the wipers. Preparing to merge right, she eased the brakes a little. 

“I asked how you expect to pay without a job?” Gwen repeated, taking a drag before popping the coffee open. She took a swig and returned it to the holder. “Please, enlighten me. How would you go about paying for that?” 

Stephanie’s face got red -

“I’ll just use the card Nana gave me.”

Slam!

Gwen gasped softly and froze with her daughter’s words. The cigarette tumbled from her mouth, falling onto her lap and smoldering. She had forgotten how mean the young girl could be, and Stephanie’s statement cut with razor precision. Turning towards the passenger seat, Gwen saw that Steph was glaring at her with cold, angry eyes; she had been clearly waiting for just the right moment to drop this little bombshell, and judging from her face, Steph knew her bomb had found its target. 

Neither of them realized that their car was now inching forward. 

“Nana gave you her credit card?” Gwen asked, taken back. A thousand different things were now racing through her mind, intensified by the hangover. It was though the very temperature had dropped in the car, and Guinevere felt blindsided by a wave of regret. She took a moment to process this. When she spoke next, her voice was much quieter – “Nana gave you her credit card?” 

“She gives you hers all the time. She gave one to you this morning, didn’t she? Isn’t that how you’re going to pay for the optometrist?” “Well, yes but” –

“Where were you last night?”

My mother gave my daughter her credit card and didn’t tell me.

“Stephanie, I...” Gwen struggled for words. It was like her whole life was flashing before her eyes. The decisions she’d made. The time she’d wasted. The tears that she saw welling up within Stephanie’s eyes right now. Gwen thought about how her own aging mother had been forced to raise a daughter that she’d never meant to have – 

My God...what have I become? 

The car was rolling into traffic now.

“You can’t even pay your own bills!” Stephanie burst. “Nana pays for everything! My clothes! My school! She even gave me money for the doctor for when I got” – the young girl gasped – 

“MOM!” 

“Fuck!” Guinevere shouted, feeling the burn of the forgotten cigarette. Her body went slow motion as she franticly fought the orange sparks, unaware that the entire world had suddenly gone sideways. She never even heard the horn, or the squeal of the Coca-Cola truck slamming on its brakes. She didn’t hear the impact, or the hideous crash of metal and glass when her car was thrown into oncoming traffic, rolling over and over and over again. Gwen couldn’t hear anything anymore. 

***** 

Joliet, Illinois 

BEEP!

BEEP!
BEEP!
The small red light flashed as a key turned and the front door opened. Alan entered his home wearing pressed khakis, a sharp green polo, sunglasses, a black bikers jacket, and a new leather messenger bag slung over his shoulder – an item that he still wasn’t quite used to carrying. 

On entering the small foyer, he immediately tapped a code into the Napco keypad, stopping the alarm. His boots clomped on the hardwood when he came into the living room, losing the bag and laying his jacket on one of the three black leather sofas, arranged in a U. Alan then noticed a second red light, a little LED glowing steadily on his answering machine. He walked to the desk and hit play; he listened to the messages while sitting and unbuckling the bag. 

Alan took out his MacBook. 

Beeeeeep - 

“An answering machine? Seriously? Have you really not set up voicemail?” The man on the speaker was clearly holding back laughter. “You know that the nineties are over, right? Dude. Honestly. Set, up, voice, mail. The answering machine makes you seem old.” 

Alan raised his eyes at the comment. 

“Anyway, I know you hate when I do this, but...I think I’ve found someone you might like to meet. He meets the criteria. He’s cute, smart. He’s younger than you. He also likes all that Star Wars crap that you seem to refuse to give up.” 

Three massive movie posters loomed down from the wall, immediately behind the sofa above Alan. They displayed the original trilogy, oversized like billboards, professionally framed in glass. 

“And best of all, this guy is clean,” the message continued. “Like, Mr. Monk clean. He’s got like four vacuum cleaners. I think you two would get along. If you’re interested, I’ll text you his number. You do at least text people, right?” 

Beeeeeep – 

“Weeeeeeel, how-dee part-ner! Them slot machines are always loose, here at the Elder-Rado casino! It’s a dang, spankin’ bee-you-tee-full day in sunny Nee-vada, and the fore-cast is” – the auto-dial message switched to a tinny, mechanical drone – “...cloudy, overcast, a fifteen percent chance of light rain...” – before switching back with a click. “Perfect day for a drive!” 

Alan looked irritated. 

“So, put on yer’ dandies and dump yer’ worries at the sitter!” the message continued. “Parkin’s free, and the drinks is all-ways on the house. We’ve got blackjack. We’ve got craps. We’ve got Bang-Go. We’ve got keno. And when it comes to our waitresses” – an old-time car horn wailed – “well, let’s just say that if you don’t like the lady ya’ came with, ya’ might just hit the jackpot!” 

Pulling up the Drudge Report, Alan made a mental note to get even with the friend who had added his number to the casino’s mailing list. The message droned on for a few more moments and was followed by a telemarketer and an earlier call from work. Alan typed on the keyboard. He shifted in the sofa when the next message played, while he pulled up Recon.com in his browser. The MacBook screen turned red and black –

 Beeeeep – 

“Alan? This is Jacob Williams, Guinevere’s father.” Alan looked up. He hadn’t heard Jacob in years, and the old man’s voice sounded ... galvanized. 

“Listen, Alan...there’s no easy way to say this.” Jacob paused while taking a breath. “There’s been an accident. Gwen is asking for you. I need you to call me as soon as you get this message. My phone number is” – Silence. 

Alan heard nothing past that sentence. 

***** 

He was up in a heartbeat, flip-phone in hand. He didn’t even remember calling work or throwing clothes in a suitcase, but less than an hour later, his speedometer shot to 80 as he joined the traffic on I-55, heading south. 

Alan made it to Peoria in less than two hours.