Michael D. Davis

2023 is still on its deathbed, and everybody is changing the sheets already. New calendars are being hung up, fresh day planners are being bought, and some guy who thought Y2K was gonna be the end of the world stepped out of his bunker, looked around, said, “eh,” and went back in.

It’s been a pretty good year for me, I’d say. Nothing too big to complain about. When that big disco ball in New York slides down its pole, I’ll be happy for the new year, but not because I wanna go behind the shed and put this one out of its misery.

I have a mantra for such moments where I’m asked if I had a good day or year, “At least I’m not still in High School.” I don’t care how bad 2023 could have gotten; it still wouldn’t equal walking through those sewer tunnels again.

So, before next week, when we wake afresh, turn the leaf, and take on 2024 bushy-eyed and bright-tailed, I figure I gotta tell one last story. I have thought about this one. I flipped through my Rolodex of memories for the past year, looking for possible stories that would end the year with a bang. Only one story stood out like a dog turd in the snow. Chances are that is because this is a fresh one. This happened less than two weeks ago, and I’m not sure I’ve fully processed the series of events.

It starts with my sister and I. One of my duties workin’ for the paper like I do is going to local meetings. So it was a Monday night, and my sister said she’d drop me off at the Tama Council meeting as her and Ma had to go to Fareway. I was fine with this. My sister drove me down there. She made sure I had my pen and pad, then patted me on the head and threw me outta the car.

I had figured it was gonna be a long meeting, but few showed, and it wrapped up in under an hour. When the meeting was finished, I texted my sister for a ride. She responded with, “Be there ASAP, still at Fareway.” Having seen the acronym ASAP; and knowing how fast my sister drives on a normal day, I walked outside to wait for her.

It was dark out already, of course. And freezing. I walked down to the corner and waited. Standing on the street corner after dark, I looked like the fattest, weirdest, ugliest hooker this side of the tracks. Five minutes pass. Ten minutes. Fifteen. Several people had left the building as I stood there. One was a council member who kindly asked if I needed a ride. I said my sister should be coming along, I think her and I have different definitions of the word ASAP.

A few more minutes pass then, finally, the car pulls up. I open the passenger side door, and my sister immediately makes a hooker joke. I get in the car, and we start going at it. I say, my toes have turned blue. And she calls me a wuss. I say, what happened to ASAP? Do you even know what that means? She calls me a whiner. She then said you knew I was at Fareway with Ma. I couldn’t just drop everything and leave her there. What if her knee had gone out or something, and she fell down sprawled out in the middle of Fareway?

Now, all arguments, from the humorous to the violent, are like sword fights. You duel back and forth, wielding words instead of blades, until one shows some sort of fragility that the other can use for a mortal blow. When it comes to verbal combat like this, my family is the three musketeers. So, when my sister did her best Aramis impression and threw this scenario about my ma’s knee at me, I didn’t want to show any weakness. I channeled D’Artagnan and said, Who cares? Someone would of helped the old lady back up.

My sister just said, Wow, Really?

We thrust and parried a bit more, driving along. Then it happened. There was a scream from the backseat — which frightened me beyond belief and caused me to scream at a very high pitch. Apparently, my Ma had been in the backseat the entire time. In the dark. Her hood pulled down over her face. After I was done screaming, the two of them started laughing riotously.

But naturally, that’s not the end of it. Because, since she was in the back seat, hiding like a ninja in a tree, Ma heard everything I had said. Including the comment about not caring if she took a header in Fareway. Which I then had to hear about for several days after.

It wasn’t till nearly a week later I learned from Ma, that my sister got my text, responded ASAP, and then continued to shop. Apparently, about ten or fifteen minutes after our text exchange, the two of them made it up to the checkout without any rush, and that’s when my sister told my Ma that I had texted. So much for ASAP.