Ryan Rodriguez “Don‟t lie to me. Hurry up!” Abigail opens the register and silver clinks. “Put that with the other money.” Abigail fills the holiday box. Eugene thinks of his wife and Thelma, due to arrive any minute. He widens his stance. “You need anything else?” “Put your hands up.” Abigail and Chucky raise their arms. Eugene walks towards the counter, towards the money. “I‟m just going to collect this box for you. We wouldn‟t want anyone getting hurt.” Eugene closes the pizza box, neatly and efficiently tucking in the corners like he has done thousands of times before. “Is there anything else I can get you?” “Proper service?” The thief grabs the box with his left hand and backs towards the exit. “You don‟t know me. You don‟t know shit.” Eugene finds Thelma‟s white cap lying next to her on the sidewalk. She slipped as the robber ran by, fracturing her left elbow, banging the back of her gray bun causing a thimble of hard blood to swell up on her scalp. At the hospital, Eugene tells Helen the details and then they go silent, waiting for Thelma‟s son to show. When they finally get into bed it is Helen who can‟t stop talking: “It must be the same guy then? Three times? What are we going to do? Did you see any jewelry? A tag on his jacket? Did Chucky say what kind of shoes he had in the second robbery? So he knew Abigail was in college? He said the pizza was good? He must be a customer? Local? If Thelma broke her arm then that‟s assault? I mean he is the reason she fell, right? Aren‟t you angry? It was our money, right? How much? How much from all three times?” “Enough.” “Enough? That‟s our money!” “That was our money.” A toilet flushes upstairs. Helen glares at Eugene who stares at the ceiling with his hands crossed on his hairy chest. He concentrates on breathing. He sees, feels Helen as she turns to him, wrapping herself in the covers like a cocoon. She reaches for the desk lamp, switching it off. “You‟ll have to kill him then.” Eugene, on his back, slants his eyes towards his wife. “I‟m glad Thelma‟s going to be all right,” Helen says, concern in her voice. “My brother has guns. He‟ll tell us what to buy. You‟ll keep it at the shop because I don‟t want a gun in the house and plus that‟s where you‟ll need it. Maybe you could shoot with my brother. I‟m sure you won‟t have any problems. I‟m tired. It‟s been a long night.”
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