Wilson Harp - EMP

The 108 turnoff had always been tricky for folks who came out to visit us. The new four-lane made it easier to see, but it would still sneak up on you if you weren’t expecting it around the bend.

For me, it was all the same. I had made that turn off the main highway as long as I had been driving. I had known the shift and speed of the car as it made that turn since the time I was old enough to stand in the back seat and watch for deer along the woods as we came home from a trip to town.

Right now I was just frustrated with the radio as I came upon the turn. Every station out here was either country or local talk. My satellite radio was out of service and my MP3 device was in the trunk in the side pocket of my gym bag. I found an NPR station out of Rolla and was listening to some boring report about some solar flare that was going to happen soon.

Boring, to me at least, the physicist they were interviewing was very excited. But between the subject matter and the fact that the signal kept cutting out, I decided to just turn it off.

I was almost home anyway. Well, it felt like home. Kenton was the town I was born and raised in. Technically, I was born in Poplar Bluff, but my folks took me back to Kenton when I was three days old.

The place where I currently lived was Oak Park just outside Chicago. Currently was the key word. I wasn’t sure what Lexi would decide this weekend. Things had been rough the last few months. I wasn’t sure what she wanted, apart from space and her need to sort things out. What things, were a total mystery to me.

My cell phone rang and I reached up and hit the earpiece.

“Hello,” I said.

“David, are you on the road?” My mom’s voice sounded frustrated.

“Yeah, I’m on the road mom. About five miles from town.”

“Did you pull over to answer the phone?”

“No, still driving.”

“You shouldn’t answer the phone while you’re driving. That’s dangerous. Pull over right now.”

I did not pull over. The thought went through my head to tell her if it was so dangerous for me to talk while driving, then perhaps she shouldn’t call while she knows I am traveling. I resisted the impulse.

“Okay, Mom. Pulled over. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to remind you to pick up the medicine at the drug store.”

“Okay. Just Dad’s prescription?”

“Yes. And it’s the white pharmacy, not Turner’s.”

Turner’s pharmacy had been closed for close to twenty years now. Mom was getting worse.

“Okay Mom. I’ll pick it up.”

“Thank you. And we are having green beans for dinner with some of those fresh tomatoes your father picked yesterday.”

It was early April, the tomato plants in the garden had barely started coming up. Dad must have picked some up at the store yesterday.

“Sounds great, Mom. See you in a little while.”

“Okay, David. We’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Mom.”

I hung up the phone as I turned onto Dyer Street. I still expected the whine of the tires to change as I moved from the blacktop highway to the city street. It had always been that way growing up. But, all of the roads had been smoothed and resurfaced many times since then.

Turner’s pharmacy was now a woman’s clothing store on the corner of Main and Dyer. Hanson’s pharmacy was what most people referred to as the white pharmacy. Hanson had bad luck with his new sign when he opened. Lost it three times the first two months. He decided he was better off just leaving it down. His white building along a row of brick storefronts on Main stuck out like a sore thumb. There was no need for a sign anymore, though the bags still said Hanson’s Pharmacy.

A spot out front was open and I parked the car. Not as much traffic as I remember, but downtown hasn’t been the same for a long time. The new Wal-Mart in Wilcox has sucked away most of the day to day shopping. Kenton was a quintessential dying small town. Every generation seemed to get restless to move on, and while there were a few locals who had deep roots to the town, much of the new population were people trying to escape to the idealized, idyllic country life.

I got out of my car and walked to the glass door of the pharmacy. A tinkling bell alerted everyone inside that someone had entered.

“Well, Dave Hartsman! How are you?” Sue Parnell was the oldest sister of one of my buddies from High School. She was Sue Hanson now. She came over and gave me a hug.

“Hi Sue, doing good. How are you and Billy?” I asked.

“We’re doing good. Is Lexi here?” she asked as she looked out at my car.

“No, Emma had a school thing so they stayed up in Chicago this weekend.”

“Dave,” Billy called as he saw me. He was carrying something from the back room. He set it down behind the counter and came around to meet me near the front door. “Your momma called a few minutes ago. She said to make sure you remember to pick up your dad’s prescription.”

I sighed and nodded. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, we have her prescription, too. Make sure you don’t let her see you bring it in the house. She has a habit of accidently flushing them down the toilet. Your dad normally crushes one up in her orange juice in the morning.”

He handed me the bag with my dad’s bottle as well as the bottle of my mom’s pills. I slipped Mom’s medicine into my pocket.

“Is it helping?”

“I think so. When she manages to find them and get rid of them, she calls me a couple of times a day. When she’s taking them… she’s better.”

“That’s something at least,” I said. Watching Mom go through this was hard at a distance. I can’t imagine what Dad must be going through watching it day by day.

“I have your receipts here,” Billy said. “I was going to mail them yesterday, but I figured if you were in, I might as well hand them to you.”

“Thanks,” I said as he handed them to me. I folded them up and put them in my shirt pocket.

“You’re a good man, Dave,” Sue said. “Not many sons would pay for their parents scripts the way you do.”

“Well, not many pharmacists would work with me like this, so thanks to you and Billy as well.”

“Not a problem. I have to admit, telling your folks their co-pay was five bucks a pop is pretty clever,” Billy said. “I think your dad knows, though. He always grimaces whenever he gives me the money.”

“I figure he does. But if we all pretend like it’s not happening. I think he’s happier.”

Billy smiled and nodded. “It’s good to see you, Dave. Give your mom a hug for me.”

“Will do, Billy. Have a good day, Sue,” I said as I left the store.

When I got in the car, I tossed the bag in the front seat and opened the glove compartment. Once I had stashed the receipts and mom’s pills, I sat back up and immediately jumped in shock as a face was pressed up against my driver’s side window.

Frank laughed as I opened the door.

“You are going to give me a heart attack one day,” I said as I crawled out of the car. I was pissed, but was very happy to see my old friend.

“Sorry, man. Saw you getting in the car and when you looked away, I just had to,” Frank said as he slapped me on the shoulder.

“Well, I’ll let it slide this time,” I said as I slapped him back. “What are you doing here? Don’t you live in Wilcox now?”

“Yeah, but I run my drops all over the place. I’m about to head out to Cape for a delivery, but I should be back in the area tonight. Think you might want to head out to the Owl? Shoot some pool and down a few?”

“Not tonight, my folks will want to spend some time with me.”