The Stupid and the Sinners

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Vince opened his little chocolate eyes. “Dad’s been calling me when you’re at work.”

“Stop lying, you little shit.”


“I’m not!”

Artemis hit the steering wheel and instantly regretted it. Her wrist swelled to twice its size. “Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch?”

Vince shut his eyes, asking his father. Meanwhile, impatience overcame Artemis. She yanked him by the collar of his shirt.

“Spit it out already.”

“I think he’s outside of town. To that hiking trail we went to when I was eight, remember?”

Of course she remembered that beautiful day seven years ago, when they were still a happy family. She was surprised Vince remembered. He could hardly remember where he kept his socks in the top drawer of his dresser.

Her heart raced at the thought of seeing Gerry again. She asked, “What the hell is he doing there?”

“I don’t know, but he needs help, mom.”

Her son may be stupider than a six-year-old, but in the few moments when he acted his age, she learned not to take them for granted.

She pulled away from the school, cradling her wrist against her stomach. Now she wished she wore blue eye shadow instead of purple; a navy shirt instead of lavender; red heels instead of orange flats. Gerry preferred blue on her, saying it reminded him of the ocean. It calmed him––she calmed him.

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