21 on his white shirt, her mascara blotting in his chest. I wonder if he was as close to Granny Patrice as Mart was, he’s stoic in comparison to her. Mart doesn’t look at me as the man helps her into the truck. She balances her stiletto on the step bar, and hoists herself in. I want to tell her everything is going to be alright. I’m sure Patrice is happy now. I shift my hand in an attempt to find the second cigarette I feel poking out of my pant pocket, but my hand is met with the firm grip of the man behind me. He puts my wrists together behind my back; my incessant movements are ceased by metal handcuffs. *** It’s odd to be a passenger, but the man said I would have Bonnie back in no time. I missed looking out the window and ignoring the traffic signs. There’s a cab in front of us. He’s well behaved, signaling his right hand turn before entering the parking lot of Pelham Funeral Home. He parks behind the red pickup, letting his three passengers escape. I catch a quick glimpse of Mart before she’s blurred by the roadside trees. I pray for her, her smile carved into my memory, bright shining as the sun. “Look at me, look at me,” “No.” She yells. Her voice breaks, please don’t sob, please. “Just unlock the door, you’re going to be okay—” “No!” She’s doing this again. Don’t make me—I don’t want to. Breathe. My hand is shaking again, it feels numb. My hand is numb, why is my hand numb? I plunge my shaking hand into my pocket. I just need a smoke, then I can relax. Make a U-Turn and Return to Ontario Road A hand presses into my back. I’m pinned against Bonnie’s door. Turning my head, I catch a glimpse of the man behind me, before he pushes my head into the window. He’s saying something, his voice is bellowing, but my eyes are searching for Mart’s. Mart has scooted herself back into the seat behind mine. She grips her purse close to her. The running mascara connects her eyes to her lips. A man runs past me, moving through the space between Bonnie and the truck. He’s dressed in a black suit, his jacket drapes over his shoulders. His hair is graying, but he’s large. I watch him through the tinted window. Holding the phone to his ear, he looks at Mart and nods his head. The lock snaps and I feel the car convulse. He opens her door, draping the jacket around her, and she falls into his arms. She weeps
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