Backwards Forwards

That's when things started getting really awkward, I said to Jem.

He looked at me sideways while we stood at the traffic lights. She did this when you were in the car or out of it, he asked me.

Oh I was out. I can't say that it would've made any difference to her though.

So she daubed 'Motherfucker' right across your windshield in house paint, Jem repeated

I think it was house paint – a kind of shitty brown color, I say. You know, a ubiquitous, common sort of brown; fence paling brown maybe.

The lights changed and we made our way over the pedestrian crossing. Jem studied his feet. Did the paint come off easily, he asked.

Parts of it were dry. I used a bucket and sponge, and soap. The dried parts I had to take to with an ice scraper.

Did anyone see it, the word, 'Motherfucker'.

Wanna eat at Subway, I asked.

Sure.

We headed in, stood in the queue and duly ordered.

Yeah, Jem, lots of people saw the daubing. The car was parked out front. I tried to work out what was the best method of attack. Start at the right or start at the left.

I would've started on the left, for sure, Jem mused.

In the end I went for the 'f' first, then worked right. It seemed like the quickest way to be rid of the offending-

Yeah, right. Haha. Still would've given a few passers-by a chuckle though.

One couple stopped and gawped. I told 'em my kids were always up to harmless pranks; practicing their vocab on my Dodge Challenger seemed to bring out their most precocious efforts.

They called our order, we took it and sat down at the window eating our foot-longs which in reality are not; the 'foot-long' reference according to subway is not literal.

It's kind of hard driving a car with 'Motherfucker' daubed across the windshield, I said.

Jem burst forth in laughter and nearly suffered for his efforts when some of the sub threatened to come out of his nostrils.

Then I continued, just as it's hard to convince a pizza guy from Dominoes delivering 2 dozen pepperonis at 11pm that I didn't order any pizzas. These things take some effort. In the end I had to pay him fifteen bucks just to get him to go. It was worth it though.

Jem looked at me oddly, why did you bring that up, he asked.

Because I didn't order those pizzas.

Huh?

It was her again, I said.

Jem stopped eating for a brief moment. When was this, he asked.

Oh, about, I dunno know, maybe eight days before my windshield was done over. Two dozen pizzas is way more expensive than paint removal from a windshield. I suppose I could have paid for those pizzas and me and Mandy and the kids could have slowly made our way through them; cold snacks, school lunches, all that.

So she knows your address, this crazy woman, Jem asked.

I guess so, though I never told her what it was. But she evidently knew it from some time before.

Jem looked up, what makes you say that, he said.

Well, about three weeks back, middle of the night and the smoke alarm goes off in the apartment. I get up, open the front door and look about the entry hall; there's everybody else doing the same thing, all looking at each other. The alarm is going for the whole apartment block. We're all standing in our doorways looking disheveled and wondering whatall the hullabaloo is about.

So what happened, Jem said.

We all did the right thing, you know, announcements over the speaker system to evacuate. I grab umbrellas and Mandy gets some coats. We make our way downstairs with the kids, who are grumbling their asses off. We're all standing out the front of the apartment block looking like miserable bison moping in a wet landscape, heads bowed low in the drizzle, then I spot the car. Her car. She's in it, looking my way.

Christ, Jem says between chews, she was there, in a car?

Yup. It was her alright.

Holy hell. You ever see The Blues Brothers movie... of course you have, Jem says, that crazy-assed Carrie Fisher character?

Now it's me nearly snorting Subway out my nostrils. I never thought of that, I say when I recover myself.

Remember the part where she has that shoulder grenade launcher, blows the old apartment block to shit?

Luckily I haven't taken another bite. I laugh again; Jem laughs too. Haha, I don't think it's that bad Jem, I say. But she sure does have as much tenacity, and bears a decent grudge. A long standing grudge at that.

Jem looks at me, you mean there's more, he says.

Yeah, plenty.

Why, why don't you put a stop to it then?

Well, I've kind of tried Jem but the cops, well, they're not all that interested. I'm not sure if I come across badly, or maybe it's because this.... perpetrator is a woman, but there's not a lot of interest. The threat doesn't seem to be taken seriously. At least not by them.

Try again, I would, Jem offers.

Yeah, maybe I should. It's not getting any better; she's not easing off, or moving on. But I think I know what the problem is.

What?

The poor woman thinks I'm my brother.

Huh?

My brother. I have a twin brother. We don't look exactly the same but pretty damn close. He met this woman a while ago, then jilted her, stupid irresponsible bastard, then he took off interstate. He lived nearby to my apartment up to that point. I was never introduced to her so she doesn't know that I exist, but he showed me a photo of her. A stocky handsome woman; nice. She's been trying to get back at him, which is in fact me, for months.

Wait. Wait on a moment, Jem says rubbing his hand down the side of his pants, this woman has a vendetta and is confusing you with your brother?