Alex Bergland

“I swear to fucking God.” Bridgett slammed the trunk and pierced her husband with her eyes. “I can fucking do it myself you no good sonuvabitch.”

 

The spare tire and the tire iron leaned against the rear bumper of the beat up 2005 Kia Rio. The couple was pulled over on the side of I-49 going south from Kansas City. Waves of heat rippled off the black asphalt in the mid-July sun. The eloping middle-aged couple had thrown everything they could into the back of the small car before the sun came up and they had been driving all day. Both were leaving their families behind. They had met working at an oil rig in south Dakota and had been having an affair for the last 7 months. Arkansas was the destination to hide out from their families and restart. Mark had a second cousin in the state who would give them a discount on rent at one of his rental properties.

 

“Fuckin’ fine then, bitch.” Mark muttered under his breath while slamming the driver’s side door. He made sure to say bitch loud enough that Bridgett would hear. The A/C in Mark’s car broke 5 years ago, and he never had enough disposable money available to get it fixed. Most of his paycheck went to paying off his bar tab.

 

Bridgett started jacking the car up. They ran over something big and their tire was all but shredded, it was a wonder the car didn’t flip. The ground beneath Bridgett’s dripping face pooled with sweat. No sooner than she had gotten the car as high as the bottle jack would take it, a pickup truck pulled up behind her.

 

“Mind if I take over, miss?” The bearded, hat wearing man said after closing the door of his truck?

 

“Oh would you fuck out of here? The last thing I need right now is to be told what to do by another man. I can change this goddam tire myself, I don’t need yer help.” Bridgett has stepped toward the man as she yelled, the tire iron in her hand.

 

“I’m sorry?” The man said defensively and confused. “Just looked like you might want some help.”

 

“Well I don’t. So get back in your truck and get the hell out of here.” The man shook his head, still confused at what had just happened, and signaled into the right lane of the interstate. Bridgett grunted with her jaw still set defiantly and slid the wrench end of the iron onto the nuts of the wheel.

 

Bridgett’s back was soaked with sweat and she slid the spare onto the axel, feeling a bead of sweat drip from the tip of her nose when she pushed. “Can you hurry it up, woman? Ida been done twenty minutes ago and it’s hot out here.”

 

“Oh you’re hot, huh?” Bridgett got to her feet like a tiger on the prowl. “Because you’re doing so fucking much sitting on your worthless ass. Must be a real hard work being a piece of shit, huh?”

 

“Shut the fuck up and get back to the tire so we can leave.”

 

The glass window behind the driver’s seat exploded into a cascade of glass when the tire iron crashed through it. “Hand me that iron and if I hear you say one word, your head is next.” Bridgett wasn’t yelling anymore.

 

For the first time, she saw real fear in Mark’s eyes, and she ripped the tire iron from the hole it had made in the window, spilling more glass onto the side of the road.

 

With the new tire on and the old wheel shoved into the already cramped trunk, Mark signaled back onto the interstate and accelerate. The radio was not on. They were not talking. Bridgett’s arms were crossed over her chest and she stared out the passenger window at the vibrant corn fields. Marked took the exit for Sheldon and pulled into the Murphy station. “Go put $30 on the pump.” Mark held out cash. Bridgett just glared at him. “Please.”

 

She snatched the money from his hand and slammed the door behind her as she got out. The bills crumpled in her tight fist and loosened as soon as she opened the door. “Hey sweetie.” She said to the man behind the counter with tattoos covering his forearms. “Can I please get $30 on 4?” Bridgett smiled sweetly to the young man.

 

“Sure thing.” The man said with a shy smile as he punched the buttons on his computer. Mark walked through the glass doors and saw Bridgett leaning on the counter making doe eyes at the young cashier. He scowled and turned his head toward the restroom sign, muttering curse words under his breath.

 

Mark came back out as Bridgett put the nozzle back into the gas pump. When he got close to the pump, he didn’t look at Bridgett. Things has been tense and it was a hot day, but Mark had never felt this type of burning rage come from her. It was as if she was hoping to burn holes through him with her eyes and leave him there to suffer. He slipped into the driver’s seat looking straight ahead. She was glaring at him and he could still feel her eyes boring into him.

 

For the past few weeks things hadn’t been easy. As much as they wanted to run off together, there had been a fissure between the two but it went unspoken. They both knew this was a bad idea and secretly resented each other for bringing such turmoil to their normal lives, but they were too stubborn to back down once the plans had been made. No part of the drive down had been excited or even friendly. They were at each other’s throat’s constantly. But this snap of Bridgett’s was different, she had never been violent towards him before.

 

Golden hour was just starting when they arrived at the small house on the edge of town where they would start their new lives. The key was taped between the siding and the window trim just where Mark’s cousin said he would leave it. Bridgett still wasn’t talking. “Well the journey is over. Welcome to our new home.” Mark swung open the door. Brigdett shouldered past him into the dimly lit house. “Go find the bedroom, sweetheart.” Bridgett turned and stared at Mark, then walked further into the house. She would not speak to him.

 

Mark followed her in and slipped the light switch behind her. The living room had one plastic wrapped couch on top of a stained beige carpet. That was the only furniture in the house. Bridgett gave herself a full tour of the house with her arms folded and her jaw set. She had given up a full house and a bed. She didn’t even fucking have a bed here. Neither of them had thought about bringing a mattress down. It wouldn’t have fit in the small car anyway. Mark was too nervous to ask her what was wrong.

 

“Where you gonna to sleep?” Bridgett finally asked, staring at the wall in the bigger of the two bedrooms.

 

What do ya mean?” Mark stood in the doorway.

 

“I mean ya aint sleeping with me.” said Bridgett without turning around to face Mark.  Mark opened his mouth to protest and it was like Bridgett could feel the air he was sucking in before he spoke. “You better get to the other room.” She said flatly. Mark stopped his breath, dropped his shoulders, and walked back out the car to start grabbing the suitcases and boxes they brought. Bridgett never helped him, she just stood in the bedroom.

 

It was dark by the time Mark had finished piling their things in the front room, and he was ready to sleep. “I’m fuckin sleeping in there.”

 

No yer not.” Bridgett said defiantly. “I’m sleeping here.”

 

“Damn it bitch I thought we were supposed to be together now. I don’t think it’s too much to fucking ask to sleep with you.”

 

“Sleep where with me? Huh? Did you bring a bed? Do you even have money for a fucking bed? I should never have left. What the fuck was I thinking? You’re worthless.” Bridgett still didn’t look at Mark.

 

“The fuck did you say to me? I don’t see you out here buying a bed. How about you calm the fuck down?” Mark grabbed Bridgett by the back of the arm and she whirled around and punched him in the face.

 

“Do not touch me, you sonuvabitch.” Said Mark, covering his hurt nose, “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.”

 

“What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?” Mark said, shoving Bridgett back against the wall. Bridgette’s hand went instinctively into her purse and gripped the handle of the small .22 pistol she kept with her. She was no stranger to domestic abuse and she had been done tolerating it for a while now. This wouldn’t be the first time she has had to pull out the little pistol and threaten an abusive lover.

 

Mark saw her hand in her purse and the muscles in her forearm tense. He hadn’t known she carried a gun, but he could easily guess what it was she was holding. “What do you plan on doing with that?” Mark asked boldly. “You gonna shoot me?”

 

“If I have to.”

 

“You don’t have the balls to kill me. You wouldn’t know what to do if you did, so how about you let that go.” Mark took a step towards Bridgett, and her grip tightened. Mark was right, of course. She had never actually used the gun before, only pulled it out as a threat. Mark took another step towards her. “Do what I say, woman.” And then he was on her. His hand was around her neck and he was pressing her against the wall. “Don’t you give me that shit again, understand? Don’t you fucking dare talk that shit on me.” Mark’s teeth were clenched, and spittle landed on the corner of Bridgett’s mouth.

 

Bridgett closed her eyes and pressed her head back into the wall, struggling to pull air into her lungs. Black polka-dots danced behind her eyelids. Mark’s hand was tight on her throat. “Let go of the damned gun, bitch.” Bridgett heard Mark say from far away.

 

Mark’s grip loosened suddenly, and Bridgett opened her eyes into Mark’s. He was frozen for a moment in shock. He tilted his head down and saw the red stain growing on his faded green T-shirt. He looked back up at Bridgett “You bitch.” And his eyes hardened.

 

Bridgett pulled the trigger three more times into Mark’s stomach until he let go of Bridgett completely. Still against the wall, Bridgett took two steps to her right and choked out ragged breaths, barely watching Mark fall to his knees. Both his hands were on his stomach and his eyes were red with rage, staring at Bridgett. “I’ll fucking kill you for this.” Mark coughed up blood halfway through the sentence.

 

“You won’t, I’ll kill you, you bastard. And won’t nobody find me after.” Bridgett’s words were raspy. She pulled the gun up and aimed it. The final bullet in the clip went through Mark’s eye and stayed in his skull. He fell on his side, the blood already starting to pool around his lifeless body. Bridgett slumped against the wall and stared at the corpse. “Fuck.” She said to herself. “FUCK!” she screamed and hurled the warm pistol against the far wall. Bridgett pulled her knees against her chest and put her face into her hands. Why had she ever left home? What had she ever seen in this scumbag? Serves her right for having a thing her bad boys, she guessed. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t go home. She couldn’t stay here. Mark’s cousin would probably be here soon to check on them. Fuck, she wished it hadn’t come to this. Maybe it would have been better to just take the beating like she had before. “No.” she said aloud. “Not ever again.”

 

She looked up at him again. His lips were slightly parted, his one eye was wide open and red. His missing eye was spilling blood onto the carpet and piece of grey matter dropped from the socket. Bridgett gagged and threw up everything she had eaten that day. “Why did you make me do that?” she said to him.

 

The engine was still running when Bridgett made it back to the car. She slid into the driver’s seat, moved the seat closer to the pedals, and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. With a deep breath, she sat back and put the car in drive. Bridgett turned out of the driveway and found her way back to the interstate.