Hankie With a Gun

 

The colorful floss stitched in pink petal loops and couched green leaves seemed innocent enough, but the little flowers embroidered in each corner of the handkerchief misinformed me. Blossoms obscured an object tucked tight against the windshield on the cracked dash of the Ford pickup truck. He had something wrapped up inside, something cold and hard. 

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I barely noticed the threat as we bounced down the Wyoming oil field road; dust mixed smooth with crude oil and packed to resemble asphalt but smelling of something primal. The iridescent sunset left a darkening sky, and I yawned. Track practice had been rigorous. Multiple 100 yard dash starts left my hamstrings tight. I didn’t want to stay out too late. 

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I sat in the middle of the truck’s bench seat, snuggled close enough to my boyfriend to feel his thigh against my sore muscles. He shifted his leg to brake. We stopped near an old horse pen, sagging barbed wire and a scraggly cottonwood tree reflecting in the headlights. A claw-footed bathtub, once used to hold water pumped from the river, gleamed yellow. I rolled down my window and heard water rumbling behind and below us, strong with spring melt.

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He reached over and gently lifted the handkerchief to reveal a handgun. He playfully tossed the hankie into my lap. I continued to breathe calmly, fingering the cloth. I figured whatever stupid thing he was planning to do couldn’t be that stupid, but the hair on the back of my neck began to rise. He picked up the gun.

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“There’s a dead body in that tub. Go look.” He held the gun in his left hand, gestured in the direction of the tub, killed the headlights then turned to smile at me. 

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“No there isn’t! Besides, I’m not going out in the dark. You go look!” 

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“Nah, I’m just kidding. This was my dad’s gun. I brought it to show you.” He paused. “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to kill someone.” 

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 I stared at him then flinched as he reached over to take the handkerchief from my lap with his right hand, keeping the gun in his left.

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“My mom did the embroidery.” 

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“Yeah, it’s pretty, but I really don’t want to see that thing. Put it away.” 

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“Okay, I’ll take it home. Hopefully, Dad won’t notice I took it from the safe.”

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He placed the gun on the dash, carelessly wrapped this time, flowers crumpled and less recognizable. A sliver of gunmetal glimmered in the moonlight. 

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“Wanna SweeTART, Sweet Tart?” He held a packet of candy out to me.

I hesitated, but my mouth was dry, and I liked SweeTARTS, so I took one. I couldn’t see what color it was in the dark. I popped it into my mouth and held it on my tongue to savor the tang. Cherry.

 

1) He turned the key in the ignition, then shocked me by slamming the truck into reverse and gunning the engine. The smell of exhaust and crushed sage rushed past my open window as we bumped off the makeshift road. We careened backward over the crumbling ledge, ricocheted against the river bank, then silence.

 

2) He turned the key in the ignition. Just then an eerie green-white light illuminated everything around us. We startled like spooked ponies and craned our necks to see a V-shaped craft hovering above us. I panicked, pushed open the passenger seat door, and, forgetting my sore hamstrings, bolted in a blind instinctual dash up the dirt road. My wits returned after I had run a hundred yards and as I turned to look back in curiosity, I saw the truck captured in a beam of solid light, rising slowly from the earth. My boyfriend still gripped the steering wheel even as the vehicle levitated. I was sure I saw him. I knew he didn’t want his dad to find out he had taken the gun. I felt a rush of relief. No longer panicked, I turned and began jogging up the road toward home. A glowing dot quickly disappeared on the far horizon, taking my boyfriend, his truck, and the gun.

 

3) He turned the key in the ignition, and I grabbed the gun. No, I wouldn’t do that. 

 

4) He turned the key in the ignition and drove me home. I broke up with him a few days later.

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Truth is stranger than fiction, more surprising, and less immediate. It took years, but I learned to stay away from narcissists, sociopaths, and other deranged critters. The aliens returned but they did not abduct me. They came in peace.