But They Still Laugh

Nobody ever worked harder or more tirelessly to keep their community safe and informed than Carl. Since everyone in his small town was so reserved, hiding even trivial details from each other, he had to find things out on his own.

He knew how reserved everyone was, because he was the most open person ever, and they told him nothing. That didn’t stop him from reaching out, sharing the little secrets with anyone and everyone who’d listen for just a moment.

The other day, he’d had to tell Jennifer that Michael was sweet on her, and she should watch out, since he’s married. He’d hate to see someone like her, a single mother of three, living in a single wide on the edge of town, barely scraping by, be taken advantage of. Especially by a Lothario like Michael, manager of the meat counter at the grocery store.

She’d asked, “What makes you say that?”

Carl leaned in close, so only she could hear, and told her, “I’ve seen him lift the scale up a bit with his thumb, so you pay less for your meat. He thought he was clever, but I was in a perfect position to see.”

Jennifer was dismissive, but Carl knew that was just a facade covering her relief at being saved from manipulation. While a “thank you” might have been in order, he knew better than to expect that much from his tight-lipped neighbors.

Every morning, he took his travel mug to the diner where Jennifer filled it with coffee for ninety cents. Besides being cheaper even though he always paid a full dollar for it, it was better than anything at the Starbucks. He was certain of that…not that he’d ever set foot in a Starbucks.

Mug in hand, he wandered to the riverside park where he could sit on a bench facing the river, the morning sun behind him. Besides watching the ducks, it was a great place for his favorite pastime, people-watching.

He checked his watch. He knew that Allison should be jogging by any second. She started her runs every morning at seven, and took a full loop of the town, with a swing through the park at the half-way point. Running two hours every morning couldn’t be that good for her, could it?

Either way, she looked fit and healthy, although Carl had a suspicion that there was trouble at home. Why else would she spend so much time away from the house when her husband was home? He wouldn’t share his suspicions with anyone without proof, though.

For the time being, she passed right on schedule, and he gave her a wave. She acknowledged him with a nod of the head as she loped past, sweating. He noticed something new, though; she was wearing weights on her wrists, making it a chore to keep her arms going. Isn’t that sort of self-torture what the victims of abuse do?

Still, not enough proof to bring it up, so he’d keep that under his hat for a while. With his mind on hats, Carl decided to walk up to the feed store and see what was happening there. Since his accident and the subsequent sale of his farm, he didn’t have much occasion to go there, except to peruse their selection of trucker hats and ball caps.

He opened the door to the smells of chicken feed, straw, aged wood with dust long since ground in, and a hint of diesel. “Hey, Jeff,” he said as he entered.

“Carl.” Jeff’s reply was curt, almost cold if one didn’t know that’s how he talked. Carl knew, though, and considered Jeff one of his longest-term friends.

“Anything good?”

Jeff pointed at the rack where the caps lived and went back to whatever paperwork he’d been doing behind the register.

Carl looked through the rack. Most of the new caps had sayings on them he didn’t understand. Jokes for a younger audience, he figured. There was one cap with the old International Harvester logo on it. His own IH cap was ratty, so replacing it was a reasonable action.

“Figured you’d like that,” Jeff said. “Need anything else?”

“Nope. How’s things around here?”

“Same as always.” Jeff bagged his purchase and handed it to him.

“Hey friend,” Carl said, “you might want to have a word with your son. Tell him to keep it to his wife and stop flirting with the ladies. He seems to have taken a shine to Jennifer.”

Jeff said nothing, and his blank face gave away no reaction.

Carl raised his bag and headed toward the door. “See you later.”

“Mm.”

His leg was feeling relatively good, so Carl decided to walk the long way home. On the way, he passed by the gym. The garage there had been converted thirty or so years ago, but he didn’t know how it stayed open, empty as it was.

With the morning warm, the large overhead doors were open, and the punching bags were in use. There was Allison, training with a coach. Poor thing, she must be trying to protect herself from her abusive husband. Carl was all but certain of that, now. He didn’t know how much use her training would be, though, as her husband was a hulk of a man with the scars of many a fight on his face and knuckles.

Still, Carl wasn’t one to spread unsubstantiated rumors. Only what he could verify. And when he verified his suspicion, he’d be calling the police first. 

The rest of the week went the same. Carl did his rounds, shared what he’d learned where appropriate, and kept his eyes open.

That Thursday, Allison didn’t show up in the park. Fearing the worst, Carl limped past her house despite the pain he was feeling that day.

Allison was loading a suitcase in their car, a look of worry on her face. Denzel, her brute of a husband followed behind, throwing another suitcase in the back of their car. In contrast to her, he was in a good mood.

Carl tried to signal to her that he was there, but Denzel had pulled her in close and was talking to her. He accentuated what he was saying with a finger poking her in the chest. When he finished quietly berating her, he stood back with his arms wide, and they hugged.

Carl wondered how she could be so tolerant of such behavior. Still, he wasn’t doing any good standing around, so he continued home.

She didn’t show in the park the next day, as he’d expected. They looked as though they’d packed for at least an overnight. He tried to put it out of his mind but limped past the gym all the same. The cool, grey day meant the overhead doors were closed and he couldn’t see inside.

The following day, she was back, but running slower than usual. Even from a distance he could see the stitched wound on her eyebrow, the swollen and bruised cheek, and two black eyes that signified a broken nose.

He couldn’t sit by and do nothing. He stood to stop her on the path. “Allison, come with me. We’ll go to the County Sheriff and get that bastard behind bars.”

“What are you talking about, Carl?” She tried to step around him. “Get out of my way.”

Carl grabbed her arm as gently as he could. “Please, you don’t have to stick around for his abuse. He’ll kill you one day.”

“Carl, if you don’t get out my way, I’ll call the sheriff, and it’ll be your ass behind bars. Now move.”

“No!” Carl pulled out his phone and dialed 911. As soon as he tried to tell them what was happening, Allison tried to pull away, but he kept hold.

“Let go of me, Carl, or I’ll deck you!”

“Allison, no. The sheriff’s coming; you’ll be safe.”

“Fuck off, Carl! Quit grabbing me!”

Carl tried his best to keep her there, until she unloaded a jab to his chin that knocked him out. He came to after a few seconds, but Allison was long gone.

It was only moments later that a sheriff’s deputy walked from the park’s entrance to his location, with Allison.

“There he is now,” she said.

“Sir, can I see your ID?” the deputy asked.

Carl sighed and handed over his driver’s license. “It’s about time you got here. Her husband’s going to kill her if she doesn’t get away from him.”

“What makes you say that?” the deputy asked, as he continued writing in his notepad.

“Look at her face! My god. They left town for one night and she comes back looking like this! I saw him poking her in the chest right before they left. Like the bully he is.”

The deputy looked at Allison. “Is this true?”

“What? My husband has never raised a hand to me. He won’t even spar with me.”

“No, the finger in the chest? Did that happen?”

Allison laughed. “Yeah. He pointed to my heart and said, and I quote. ‘Quit thinking about the fight, and feel it, right here. You got this.’”

The deputy nodded as he wrote it down. “You had it, all right. That was a good fight, by the way. I thought for sure it would go to decision, until you got the KO in the fourth round.”

“Thanks. Den was right, you know. I was in my head the first round, until she rocked it a few times. Nothing like blood in the eye to wake you up in the ring.”

The deputy stopped writing. “By the way, mom said to tell you she won’t be able to bring cookies to church on Sunday and wondered if you could fill in.”

“No problem. Tell her to expect me there early.”

The deputy nodded and went on to writing again.

Carl was aghast at the casual conversation going on. “Y—you mean, Denzel didn’t…I mean he’s…he looks….”

“Black?” Allison asked. “Is that what you meant, Carl?”

The deputy looked up from the report he was writing. “Carl?” He looked at the ID again. “You go by your middle name, then?”

Carl nodded.

The deputy’s eyes widened. “Wait a minute,” he turned to Allison. “Is this the guy? I mean, the guy? This is Conspiracy Carl?”

Allison nodded.

“Well, do you want to press charges for assault?”

“No,” she said, “I knocked him out when he wouldn’t let go.”

“That massive left hook?” the deputy asked.

“The weak right jab,” she answered.

“Okay, sir. She’s not pressing charges for assault and kidnapping, but I’m afraid I will have to arrest you for false reporting.”

“What?”

“Turn around, put your hands behind your back.”

“But I…I thought her husband….”

“No, you assumed her husband beat her, instead of asking her. Hell, she’d probably give you a blow by blow of the whole match, at least after the first round anyway.”

“But I—”

“But nothing. I’ll take you to the station, where you’ll be booked with a Class A misdemeanor, and probably released on your own recognizance until we can get a court date.”

As the deputy loaded Carl into the car, he said, “Even in the city we’ve heard of you. The public defender’ll probably get you off on being mentally incompetent, though.”

Once they were on the road, the deputy said, “Hey Carl.”

“What?”

“You know they all laugh at you, right? I mean…they pray for you at my mom’s church every Sunday, but they still laugh.”