Millie Hits A Home Run
“Fetch my coat, Avery.” Millie said as she grabbed the back of the sofa to steady herself. She wiped her hands on her jeans. “We’ve got to clean up your mess.” Her back ached; being eight months pregnant was hard on her spine. Being eight months pregnant made everything harder.
“It’s not just my mess,” Avery replied. “It’s our mess.”
“I’m not the one who signed that stupid lease.”
“And I’m not the one who…” Avery’s words trailed off. Wouldn’t do any good to argue about this right now; they had a more important situation to deal with, immediately. He went to the coat closet to get Millie’s winter jacket.
Millie scanned the den. Thank God there’s hardly any blood, she thought to herself. Makes this thing a whole lot simpler. She nudged Mr. Ridgely, their landlord lying supine on the floor, with the toe of her sneaker; she wanted to make doubly sure he didn’t respond.
Of course he didn’t, because he was good and dead.
***
Mr. Ridgely knocked once at the front door before he used his key to let himself in. Millie, washing dishes in the kitchen sink and listening to 1960’s pop music on a local radio station, wasn’t sure she’d heard a knock. She was singing along with Paul McCartney and daydreaming about the baby, making a mental list as to what she still needed to do to prepare for the child’s arrival.
Organize the diaper-changing table, put a new sheet on the crib mattress, launder the new-born clothes picked up at a yard sale, double-check the time for my obstetrician’s appointment, and —
Standing in the doorway of the kitchen, the landlord cleared his throat loud enough to get Millie’s attention. She turned from her dirty dishes, wiping her hands on a cup-towel. Millie assumed it would be Avery, home from work; she was surprised to see Mr. Ridgely instead.
Surprised isn’t the right word; she was annoyed, as the landlord had done this before.
“Afternoon, Mrs. Reznik,” Ridgely began. “Came to tell you I’m putting this house on the market. Real estate agent is scheduled to come by in the morning.” He sniffed, looking around the kitchen with disdain.
Millie’s shoulders drooped. “I’m eight months pregnant.” How could he toss them out at this time?
“Congratulations,” the landlord muttered. “Make sure the place is tidy.” He turned away, as if to walk back to the front door.
“Wait! I thought we signed a year lease,” Millie felt tears filling her eyes. They had a baby coming! How could they find a new place to live before the child arrived? As a first time mother, living a thousand miles away from her family and friends, her stress levels were high enough. Now this!
Ridgely stopped and said over his shoulder, “Your husband signed a month-by-month lease.” He laughed. “Maybe next time you read the lease yourself.”
She grabbed skillet from the stove top, the skillet she’d used just this morning to cook up Avery’s breakfast. Spam and eggs, his favorite. Moving faster than one would expect a hugely pregnant woman could move, Millie was qickly behind her landlord. She’d been a star softball player in high school, so she raised the skillet like bat and —
Muscle memory kicked in. She smashed her landlord in the back of the head. If his head had been a softball, it would have traveled high, straight and true to the outfield. He fell heavily to the floor, coming to rest behind the sofa. Home run!
***
Millie heard the grinding mechanical sound of garage door going up; Avery was home from work, at last. When he opened the kitchen door to the garage, he found Millie standing by the couch in the den, hands on her hips. She didn’t look happy, but still — Avery thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in real life. He smiled, though she glared at him.
“What’s up gorgeous?”
She threw her hands up. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d signed a month-by-month lease?”
“I didn’t think it mattered. The landlord said — ” Avery took off his coat and tossed it on a kitchen chair.
“Landlord said! Landlord said! That landlord came by earlier to say he’s selling the house!” Millie gave in to her overwhelming emotions, and began crying. “Avery, where will we go? And what will we do with — ”
“Aww, it’ll be okay, love,” Avery said as he approached Millie. “There’s lots of rental places on the market. And what will we do with what?” He was about to put his arms around his wife to comfort her, when he saw the body at her feet. “Oh.”
“Might as well put your coat back on,” Millie said dully. “Looks like we have a road trip to make.”
For this young couple, ‘road trip’ meant a visit to nearby state park. Living on a tight budget, and with a baby on the way, they took to experiencing the wonders of nature for their little excursions. They were fairly familiar with the layout of this park.
Avery put his coat back on. “I’ll put Mr. Ridgely in the back of our SUV. It’s in the garage, so no worries about nosy neighbors seeing me move him.” He bent over the body and riffled through Ridgely’s pants’ pocket until he found the car keys. He tossed them to Millie. “You follow me. We’ll leave his car in the farthest parking lot. The one without a streetlight.”
“But first,” Millie said, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Fetch my coat, Avery.”
***
Millie readjusted the rear-view mirror and driver’s side seat back to Mr. Ridgely’s setting before she exited his old silver sedan. With what he charges for rent, you’d think he’d drive something more luxurious than this junky clunker, she thought to herself. Because it was midwinter, she was wearing gloves. No need to wipe the car down for prints, she reassured herself.
Avery had parked next to Mr. Ridgely’s car, so Millie wouldn’t have to walk far to join him. She handed Avery the car keys. He opened the SUV’s hatch and stuffed the keys back into their landlord’s pants’ pocket.
“Can I help you with the…?” Millie started, knowing full well that Avery would decline her offer. When she thought of how attentive, how considerate he was with her, she often felt like she’d won the World Series of dating.
“Nah,” Avery said as he pulled the body from the trunk. “I’ll take care of everything. You get in our SUV, keep warm. The less you know about where I’m going, exactly, the better.” He managed to position Mr. Ridgely over his shoulder before he trudged off into the darkening woods.
Millie got in the SUV, and happily hugged herself. Avery was going to make such a wonderful father!
— — -
Bio: With a Masters in English Lit, Hillary Lyon founded and for 20 years acted as senior editor for the independent poetry publisher, Subsynchronous Press. Her speculative fiction and crime short stories, drabbles, and poems have appeared in numerous print and online publications. She’s also an SFPA Rhysling Award nominated poet. When not writing, Hillary is the assistant art director for Black Petals. You can find her at her website HERE.
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