On the Run
Twenty- two Twenty- eight/Sept 2022
He hated the ocean, the sand. He loved the woods, trees alight in autumnal splendor, the crisp air of his Pennsylvania town. Somehow, he was here, on this dark beach, following her, Maddie, the huge pain in his ass, out the movie theater door, onto this long stretch of sand. He had abandoned the concession he was forced to serve each night, leaving it sticky and unswept. He left the stage curtain open, revealing the naked screen, the projector light still on, gleaming into darkness. Thankfully, he’d stopped to lock the doors.
Having a cashier this summer was more trouble than it was worth. The woman could not do math. Every night, Maddie gave too much change and the drawer was short at closing time. She wasn’t stealing, Steve could not imagine her doing that. She was the most innocent, most pure person. Maddie. He felt a sickening in his stomach. He regretted yelling, but could not control his rage at her recurring stupidity. Not stupidity. Worse. Irresponsibility. When the amounts were small, 5 or 10 dollars, she’d just smile a little , but tonight it was 60 bucks and she bolted.
She applied for the job the Tuesday after Memorial Day. Too much perfume, his initial thought. She said she’d come to this town every summer of her life, she loved the old theater. This summer she was living here with friends. Partying, Steve had smirked. Only a few years older, newly installed as manager, he put on his super adult face. “You know you’ll be handling money, right?” She nodded and, ugh, those big green eyes and that look on her face, like she was the happiest person in the world. She showed up ten minutes late and would always do so, every shift. Each night, she sat in the window sipping a diet coke and reading books of poetry, her smooth legs crossed, her flip flopped foot wagging.
Steve stepped over driftwood logs, his feet tangling in unseen seaweed, the bottoms of his khakis growing wet from the encroaching tide. He ignored the full moon, the spray of stars she would call miraculous. He clenched his fists, feeling his father’s class ring knobby on his left hand. He’d been tired earlier, stayed up late watching Twilight Zone reruns. Now he was wired, hot on Maddie’s trail. Her pixie head of blond hair bobbed, far ahead on the beach, the little daisy she kept clipped at her temple almost visible. What would he say to her when he reached her? You’re fired? I’m sorry? I love you?
Steve kept moving, kept following her as she flicked in and out of the moonlight. He called her name, “Maddie, Maddie,” his voice swallowed up by surf. He didn’t know where they were headed, but he would follow her anywhere, even if she never stopped, never turned around. How he hated this beach, this place.
