Fifth Annual Wild Violet Writing Contest Winners (2007)
Fiction
— First Place
X
and Q
By Barbara Purbaugh
(continued)
"Start with Mr. Paul Getty, Diane," Miriam said.
"Do
I know you?" he asked Miriam.
When
Miriam was a girl of 16 and Paul Getty was a little older, she was walking
home. It was getting dark, so she was moving quickly down the street when
she saw him. He'd stolen a battery from someone's car, and he was struggling
to get it down the street when a police car appeared.
He
whipped past Miriam and hid in the alley. When the police car stopped
to ask her if she'd seen anyone, she said she thought she saw a man running
down an alley. Of course, she pointed to the alley across the street,
not the one Paul Getty was crouched in.
When
the police car left, he grinned and winked at her. "Thanks, sweetheart,
I owe you one."
Now,
in the office, Miriam smiled slightly. "No, not really."
Diane
took down his information, and he moved to Miriam's desk. He sat down.
His hands were still inside the pockets of the oversized coat.
"How
do I know you?" he whispered. Miriam
shrugged, and then he grinned. "You rescued me once, didn't you?"
She
nodded.
"Miriam
McDonald," he said, grinning in the way Miriam remembered him.
"Where
have you been? There have been a lot of rumors."
He
grinned again, and then his face turned serious. "My youngest brother,
Adam, I had to wait for him to get better. I wasn't coming home without
him. Stan waited with me."
Miriam
typed the "Q" and handed him the card. He took it with his left
hand.
One
by one the Gettys, Paul, Mike, Stan, and Dave received their "Qs."
When it was Adam's turn, Miriam's finger paused above the "X."
"It's
okay, ma'am," he said. "I know you have to type that 'X'."
Miriam
sighed.
"Maybe
Bernadette can get you some training."
"Oh,
I got training. They taught me to type, and if I get my own typewriter,
they'll send me stuff to type in the mail. Give me some income."
Miriam
stared down at the typewriter in front of her. She typed the "Q."
"Well, Adam, if you don't mind a used one, the Army is giving this
one away today."
All
eyes in the office turned to look at her.
"Really?"
"Really."
Miriam
watched as Paul Getty scooped up the typewriter with his left arm and
carried it under his arm like a football. His right hand never left his
pocket.
"Thank
you, ma'am," Stan Getty said as he led his brother, Adam, toward
the door.
Miriam
smiled. She watched them get into their truck and drive away.
"That
was nice," Diane said, "you giving him the typewriter."
"I
don't want it."
At
noon, they all walked to the 5 & 10 lunch counter for lunch. They
usually ate from brown bags at their desks, but today, Diane suggested
they go to the 5 & 10.
When they walked into the 5& 10, the Gettys were sitting together
at the counter. Stan and Adam Getty were talking to the girl behind the
counter, and Paul Getty was reading the newspaper, turning the pages with
his left hand. His right arm from the shoulder down was missing.
"Oh
my God," Bernadette whispered, "He ain't got no arm. He hid
it, so you'd give him a 'Q'."
"I
knew, " Miriam said.
"You
knew. Why'd you give him the 'Q'? Why didn't you make him lift the feed
sack?"
"I
knew he could."
Bernadette
clicked her tongue.
Paul
Getty grinned as they walked by him. "I didn't think you'd give me
the 'Q' if you knew about my arm," he said to Miriam.
"I wouldn't have if I knew it was your whole arm and not just your hand."
Paul
Getty grinned. "You knew?"
"I
knew."
