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(A short story of 4749 words)

A Happy, Safe Thing

Literary

by Kathy Flann



My older sister, Minnie, and her new husband, Sax Smithers, whom she met six months ago, are going to show up half an hour late for their wedding reception. They get held up on the way to the American Legion because all six guys from the pharmacy, where Sax sorts boxes of pills, want a ride, right then, in front of Shepherd of the Hills Methodist Church, in Grandma Tillie’s brand new 1983 Cadillac convertible. Then, Minnie, excited not just about the wedding, but also about her graduation from Smoky Ordinary High School yesterday, smuggles me into the passenger seat, ignoring what Mom and my stepdad Frank and Grandma Tillie have said over and over about my heart.

“Okay, Sheryl,” Minnie tells me. “Slouch down in the seat, and nobody’ll know.” Minnie’s best friend, Gina Potts, is in the driver’s seat. On the front steps of the church, Frank is hugging the pastor again, and Mom, who’s still in the doorway, is too weepy to see us. Minnie, behind me, pinches my cheek and then snuggles up to Sax as if leaning forward from their back seat perch to talk to me has kept her away from him for too long. Sax smiles with his eyes closed.

My heart brought Minnie and Sax together; it’s how they met in the first place. My heart is built backwards with a hole in the middle of it. The pharmacy where Sax works and where I pick up my heart medication after school on Wednesdays is next to J.E.B. Stuart Jr. High; I just finished the seventh grade there. My stepdad Frank makes Minnie pick up my medication sometimes, when I’m too tired, and that’s how Sax recognized her and felt all right talking to her that “destinied” (as Minnie says) Sunday morning at P&W’s Eatery, where Minnie waits tables. Now, she always says to Grandma Tillie, who wanted Minnie to study court stenography at the community college, “See Grandma T? You can make your future anyplace. I started making mine December 30, 1982, at a restaurant on Coover Street.”

About my heart: It keeps me from riding in airplanes because the air is too thin, and Mom, Frank, and Grandma Tillie keep me from riding in convertibles, too – or pickup trucks or hayrides – because Mom says it’s not good for me when the air rushes past and makes me catch my breath. My heart also keeps me from running, biking, or swimming, but I can walk far enough and can play badminton in the backyard. I can beat all comers at badminton...
 

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