Deja Vu.

The diner was empty when the Sheriff walked in and saw Marion sitting there at a booth in the back. The boy had a steak platter in front of him, and when he saw the Sheriff coming to sit down, he didn’t bother to stop eating. The Sheriff sat down in front of him, lit a cigarette, took off his hat and placed it on his knee. 

They said I would find you out here. 

Who’s they, the boy said, a bit of steak in his mouth. 

Your folks. 

. . . 

I knew I shouldn’t have told them anything. What do you want me to say, sheriff, I’m sorry? 

You can start there, but I’ll tell you now son, sorry ain’t gonna cut shit in two in this case. You killed an officer of the law. 

The boy stopped eating. Let his fork slide out of his hand. Tears began to well up in his eyes. Glossy movie tears. 

Well, I sure as shit ain’t sorry. That man should’ve minded his own business. Told him to leave us be. We weren’t doing anything wrong. He just saw it that way, Sheriff. 

Marion, you’ve been on the run for what, four,five months now? 

Yessir. 

And I still don’t know what went down in those woods. You say you’re sorry, so prove it. Why don’t you tell me what went on in them woods? I could talk to a judge–son, I’m telling you I’ve been a sheriff of this county here almost thirty years now my opinion matters. I could help you out in this, shit I didn’t even have to be in on this case. I’m out here dealing with this mess ‘cause your father is a good friend.  

Yessir. 

The boy lit a cigarette now. He wiped his tears away, stole a look at the counter to see if the waitress had seen him crying.

Told that deputy to leave us be, Sheriff, he had no right. 

And what was it that you wanted him to leave you be from? 

Sheriff? Is this attrition? 

No son, it’s absolution. 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry Sheriff. 

Just tell me what happened. 

God, please forgive me for my sins. Hail Mary Holy Mother of God… 

It all started ‘cause I was heartbroken, Sheriff. That happened sometime in June, when I told him to meet me there at snake creek–that was sometime in August. Let’s just say that I missed him. I Missed him, is all. Nothing was supposed to happen. But sure as shit fire it did. We met up there at snake creek. Like I said, it was August. August 23rd to be exact. I drove up there first, parked, I was taking swigs from a bottle of Soco that I snuck from my dad. I was nervous as hell meeting him shit, I ain’t talked to him for a month or so. It was like I was meeting him for the first time, I had butterflies all in my stomach and what not. Crazy nervous… He showed up around an hour later on foot–told me that his pa wouldn’t let him take the car. The first thing I noticed was me his eyes. Deep brown like the mud, but in the sun they’re like this greenish brown like the leaves and the dirt. The second thing was this little shiny thing ‘round his neck. A gold chain. And I knew that he didn’t buy it himself. Knew he didn’t steal either. 

Where’d you get that? I asked him, and I let my fingers touch the medallion that was hanging from it--It was St. Jude. Touched it real soft. Thinking, if I touched it any harder it would break. I wish he would’ve touched my heart like that. Real soft like, ya know? Then, he goes on and says–

I found it. 

Bullshit. 

I did too. 

Yeah, found it in some other boy's hand. 

Goddamit Marion! Is this what this is about?! Got me down here ‘cause of that. 

Cause of what Wyatt? 

Marion, I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? 

That you still love me, you son of a bitch. 

Marion. Please. People can change their minds. Don’t you know that? 

Fuck you. 

Fuck you! 

No, fuck you Wyatt. You told me all those things. Did you mean any of them? 

Yeah, ‘course I did. 

‘Course you did my ass. You didn’t mean shit Wyatt. I wish you never came into my life. Worst thing that ever happened to me was you, and I had some shit happen to me in my life. Wish I never loved you. 

Marion please. I loved you, don't say I didn’t. 

Then there he is crying. I couldn’t stand it. When they cry like that. All soft. Like there ain’t a man standing there in front of me. It makes me sick. Grown man crying like a sick dog. Shit I have more sympathy for the dog. It got out of hand soon after that. 

What the fuck are you crying for?! 

Because Marion you say things that aren’t true. I–I did love you. Okay sometimes people change their minds is all and move on. Why can’t you do the same? 

Stop crying you faggot!

Next thing you know, I’m on my back and the air has been knocked out of me. And as I’m struggling to breathe, he’s cracking me in my jaw and face. I could taste blood in my mouth like hot iron–like quarters that had been palmed for too long. And he’s screaming. A hootin’ and a hollerin’ bloody murder. Then I got myself together and I cracked him one. He goes flying off me, and now, I’m on top of him and I’m beatin’ him. There’s blood and spit everywhere, my knuckles are a sticky mess. He’s crying more now telling me that I need to cut it out. He was swinging his arm but he’s not landing anything on me. Tells me to cut it out one more time, and this time I listen. Listened too soon ‘cause as soon as I stop, he starts up again and now he’s on top of me his knuckles turning to pulp. Now, there I am telling him to cut it out, right? He’s different all right, this I knew as soon as I met him, what I’m tryin’ to say is that when I told him to cut it out, he did. Right away. He was crying. Hard crying, the same type of crying that I’ve seen my daddy do. That hard cry when there ain’t really nothing else left in you and the only sounds you can make are those primitive, animalistic sounds of grief. 

I’m pulling him closer and he’s trying to get away from me, but I won’t let him go. Soon he falls into my chest and he’s there bawling. Bloody snot and tears all in my shoulder. I’m holding on to him tight like I didn’t want to let him go at that moment. I could’ve laid there all day in the hot grass with the sharp sticks poking my ass–I didn’t care. He was whispering in my ear that he was sorry. Sorry for everything. Told me that he still loved me. Told me that the boy that gave him the chain was out of the picture. 

All I want is you, he tells me in a voice full of brass and brokenness. All I want is you, he’s kissing my eyes, my cheeks, my lips, the crack of my chest–everywhere where his hate struck. We were just there forgetting about everyone else. Forgetting that world even existed. We were half undressed by the time we noticed Deputy Loeper there standing there. 

Now, looky what we got here. Got us a couple of fags or what? What are you doing boys?! 

Nothing, Wyatt spit out. 

Well shit, don’t look like nothing. Who worked you boys over huh? Or did you both work yourselves over huh? We having us a little hate fuck boys? 

No. I told him. Nothing was happening. 

Well shit fire! Your tongue was just down his mouth boy! Now, how about you two tell me what the fuck is going down here before I haul the both of you off to fuckin’ jail. 

Ain’t nothing going on Deputy, we were just foolin’. Wyatt tells him, his voice was shaky. 

Like dogs know when the rain is coming. I just knew that shit is going to turn out bad. 

Now the both of you are gonna shut your mouths. ‘Cause frankly, I don’t wanna hear it. You know what I want to hear? HUH!? 

…

I wanna hear yessir and no sir. Got that? 

Yessir.

Yessir. 

Now alright, you boys wanna go home or you boys wanna go to jail? 

Home, sir. 

That’s a good answer. So… since you two wanna fuck each other…I got something for you. 

Hailmaryholymotherofgod… 

He pulled out his flask next and he made us drink from it. It was nasty, cheap, scotch. The type of scotch that’s a couple of dollars for a pint. Then we heard the snap of his holster and there he had his gun out by his hip. Told us if we didn’t drink, he was gonna kills us, said who’s gonna care if a couple of faggots are found dead in a field. Said that they wouldn’t even send a search party for us. Told us that he’s gonna laugh when he does it. And I look over at the Jude sitting there on Wyatts's chest Like a knife he started jabbing the barrel into our chests telling us to unbuckle our pants. 

I wanna have fun too, ya know?  A sick fuckin grin on his face, well he says it.  Nothing behind his eyes. I was standing there and you wanna know what I thought, Sheriff? I was standing there looking at the fuckin’ devil. 

What else happened, son? 

Tears began to brim in the boy’s eyes again. His plate was sitting center on the table– unfinished. He was lighting another cigarette. 

Sheriff, I think some things are better kept between one’s self and God, don’t you believe? 

Marion, this is a murder we're talking about. I need to know everything. 

Murder? No. This was a justified killing. I ain’t murder no one sheriff. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. But I didn’t go down there to kill someone, you understand? I went down there to fix a piece of myself and shit got out of hand. Sometimes, that’s life. 

Go on, son. I need to know. 

Do you? 

Yes. 

Alright… You like monster stories, Sheriff?

So, he’s wearing that sick fuckin’ grin on his face. And I tell you, I was looking at the fuckin devil himself. Then, we start doing what he’s telling us what to do. His face flicking back forth from sick fuckin grin to nothing. Reminded me of a scarecrow, you know, like how you see something different depending on the angle you see it from. The barrel of his gun is caressing my chest now, and he’s telling me to be good. Don’t move. Now, you two get eye level with my belt. We listened. I hear him slide the gun back in its holster and now he’s hissing. Hissing this and that. Do it like this, do it like that. It lasted five minutes and every fuckin’ minutes felt like a year, a century. Wyatt was crying softly and at first, I didn’t know it was him; one would have mistaken the sound for the creek running, but I looked over at his face and big, fat, tears running down his cheeks. Looked like glass. And I knew that Wyatt was praying to God to make him a bird so he can fly away because that’s what he does when he’s scared. I want him first, is what the bastard hisses next. He grabs Wyatt by the arm and heaves him up and Wyatt with his pants down by his ankles falls face down, hard into the grass. 

Well, if you want to be right in front of your friend, who am I to stop you. 

A split second. That’s all it took. He went to climb on top of Wyatt, and I reached for his gun and slid it right off him. Now, he’s the fool with his pants down and blubbering a whole mess of things, telling us please don’t kill me! Please! Well, lemme tell you what, Sheriff, I decided when we got on our knees that if I was getting out of it…that fuckin piece of shit wasn’t going home or to jail. He was going somewhere, where? I’m not sure. But I have a pretty good guess. Told him to save me a seat, I’ll see him when I get there. Then I shot him in his face. Well, you saw where I put it, sheriff. 

Jesus, Marion. That other boy with you? 

Down the road. At that motel. Told him I would bring him something to eat. 

Let’s be hungry a little while longer. 

Let’s not hurt each other if we can. 

–Maya C. Popa