The Intervention

01 Dec

By: Megan Finsel

 

“So what’re you gonna do with the gun?”

Her voice startled him. He had run into her as they both came around the corner, and he had turned away to hurry past. Now he stood staring down into her face.

“What gun?” he tried to keep his voice from shaking, but the nerves were finally getting to him. Her smirk said she saw right through him.

She gazed across the intersection. “It’s a bad idea, you know.” she said.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Yeah,” she popped a bubble with her gum, “it kinda is.”

He looked at her, from her powder-blue pixie cut, to her red converse sneakers. Never before had he seen a skinnier young lady, and never before had he seen such wildness shining in someone’s eyes. He thought she could fight lions and win.

“Go home,” she said, “you know this is wrong.”

“You don’t know anything.”

“I know more than you think.” she said. “This is not gonna make your situation better.”

Later on he wondered why he hadn’t just pushed past her. Why he kept talking to her, while the streetlights changed color and the wind bullied the papers in the nearby newsstand. Why hadn’t he continued with his original plan? But he stood there, hands in his pockets, one wrapped tightly around his gun.

“You don’t know anything about my situation.”

She crossed her arms and stared at him. “You need the money for the engagement ring you want.” Her Marilyn Monroe T-shirt slipped off a shoulder. “But it doesn’t matter, because her parents don’t like you.”

He gaped. “How…?”

She licked her lips and the diamond stud in her tongue gleamed. “You have a stack of bills on your coffee table you’ve put off paying for weeks. You haven’t had work for months. You’ve been dating her for two years, and you’re scared you can’t support her.” She grinned.

He started to back away from her. “How do you…?”

“You can’t marry her from a jail cell, Walter.” she said. “Take the gun, go home.”

He looked across the street at the Wells Fargo, and his throat tightened with dread.

“Do you want to continue this relationship with her?”

“More than anything…”

“Then just go home.”

His palm was sweating. The girl reclined her head to look up at him, the sunlight catching in her hazel eyes. “Do you love her?”

“Yes.”

“Then love will find a way.” She brushed past him and he saw the little bow-and-arrow tattoo tucked behind her ear.

“Wait, how do you know?”

“I know a lot about love.” She gave him a wink. “Who said Cupid was a little boy in a diaper?” Then she walked away and disappeared around the corner.

He stood there a long minute, thinking of what she had said. It took him a while to realize that his fist was clenched around, not the barrel of his gun, but something else. When he pulled his hand out, he realized it was a diamond ring.

 

Bio: I’m a Special Education major with a love for books. Writing is my passion; it is how I connect with the world and share my thoughts and emotions. To get to know me more you need to read my stories because I put a piece of my heart into each one. My goal is to inspire at least one person through my work; then I know I’ve done my job. ​

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