It's Been a While
by Kara Astrouski

Having to Hide

Rachel Jones

I try to avoid Major Market, Albertson's,
gas stations, restaurants, doctor's offices -
places where I might see someone I know.
Today I went to the Village Spirit Shop
where I can usually just "get in and get out".
I was trying to choose the right vodka for the perfect bloody mary -
a really spicy one, with tabasco, green olives, lime, and salt on the rim -
but then,

of course,

it happened.

The door chime dinged.
One slight glance behind me

was all it took to recognize
my mom's ex-boyfriend's brother,
a lowly,

abominable,

drunken alcoholic
malfunction of a man.
I didn't feel like pretending that he didn't try to molest me when I was nine, so,
I crouched and hid in the corner
and pretended I was looking at the margarita mix and cointreau.

I stared at the grand marnier on the bottom shelf

as if I'd never seen it before,
hoping that he wouldn't come my way,
that he hadn't all ready seen me.
His footsteps moved toward the corner adjacent to mine,

toward the whisky and

that curtain hanging in front of the porn.

"Fucking disgusting fuck," I mouthed,

trying to appear as though I simply couldn't decide

between the strawberry, mango or lime.

I knew the clerk could see me,

and she might have asked me what I was doing

if she didn't all ready know me so well.

After a moment,

he coughed.
I flinched.
I heard his footsteps

slide

and drag

and stop.

I started to really panic, so I slinked further into the aisle,

still crouching,

pleading to the void that he wasn't in the mood for a margarita.
I couldn't keep the memory from
forcing itself into my consciousness,

because I could smell him -

automotive oil, sweat, rotten teeth, Jack Daniels, cigarettes -

he still smelled the same after thirteen years.

I could almost feel his hands-


-"stop it"-


his mouth-


-"Stop it!"-


his-


-"STOP IT!!!"-


His snake-like steps

slid across the linoleum over to the counter.

"Thank you," the store clerk said.

He didn't speak a word, and I was glad.

I waited for the door chime to ding.
I still waited.

Finally, I stood up,

shaken, stirred,

shocked at my instinct, but thankful for it.

I took a deep breath and went back to the shelf I had been browsing

before he had come in.

I got on my tippie toes and reached to grab

the biggest bottle of Grey Goose off the top shelf,

trying not to knock the other bottles down

with my quivering arm.
I paid at the counter, faked a smile for the nice lady, and I left.
I got home and made the perfect bloody mary -
and I cried.


I hate having to hide.

No More Rainbows
by Emit Levart

Three Sides of the Fence
by Natalie Parker

freedom
by Ruth Rice

six weeks
by Ruth Rice