Short Story
La Serenidad by Sam Trent
“You quit work?” she asked. “Damn right,” he said.
“What do you mean damn right?” “I told you that I was going on this
trip.” “You’re a dumb ass. What are you
going to do now?” “I’m not worried about it. Go back to
sleep. We’re about to Old Man’s.” “Whatever.” “You are starting to sound like those
people. Forget it. I don’t need them. They aren’t going anywhere in life. They aren’t helping me get anywhere.” Trips never start out right, especially
when they start out at 5:30 a.m. and after a particular boyfriend quits his job. The reason: his best friend was moving to a different state, and this was the last trip they would take together. Work was unaccommodating. “You’re an idiot,” she said. “Cálete,” he said. “Nice to see that you’re on time,” Old
Man said. “Try pulling this piano,” he said motioning to the girl. “You’re an asshole,” she said. “Well, Canada meet Mexico,” he
said.
“Nice to meet you,” Canada said. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “You’re
still an asshole. Don’t call me Mexico. Let’s go.”
10 “Ah, it’s early for her yet,” he said.
“Hop on into my car. I’ll get the trunk for the supplies.” Supplies for this particular day
were anything that contributes to a day of fi shing: rods, reels, sandwiches, beer, soda, water, knives, camera, and other random stuff. This was the last hoorah for the two friends. Canada had come down all the way from Canada to help Old Man move closer to her. She had come to take him away. For one last time, the four of them were going to Old Man’s secret fi shing place in the mountains. Many back roads, turns, and miles would take them to fi shing paradise. A little trespassing at one spot and much walking in the free hills of Wyoming was the docket of the day. They just had to get there.
“Are you still studying for your
fi nals?” Old Man asked. “No, I already sold my books back,”
he said. “School’s done for me now. It’s just fi shing now.” “You’re an idiot,” she said. “You’re
going to study Spanish. I still have my book.”
“I don’t need to. I know that stuff better than you, and you should know it.” “Here we go. Stop saying mean stuff
to me. Why should I know Spanish? I was born in California.” “Hey, here is a poem for you that I
made up. It’s in Spanish.”
Second Place
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