Baptism in Mississippi

The Mississippi sun had cracked open the earth, creating long fissures in the dirt that crept along the walkway. Heat smoked up from the ground as if the very sand was evaporating, creating a shifty, deceiving landscape of dust and sky. Kirsten stood still, amidst the boiling land with only a backpack making her shoulders slick with sweat, and a sunburnt toddler in her arms. They were staring at the motel before them, labelled in big, bold letters “The Fountain”. 

With it’s faded red-trimming and yellow-stain, the building looked like a flaky, off-brand McDonald’s. Kirsten’s daughter, Michelle, seemed to think so too as she repeatedly reached her chubby hand out, demanding ‘fwench fwies.’

Kirsten smiled, pressing her face against her daughters in a sideways kiss. “This isn’t the golden arches we’ve come to love, Meesh,” she murmured.

They had been standing there for at least three minutes. The bus’s rumblings had gone quiet shortly after it left, but she felt like she could still hear its puffing exhaust and chittering motor. Or maybe that was her heart, which hadn’t stopped thudding against her chest since she stepped off the bus.

Kirsten forced a deep breath, salty air filling her lungs as she shuffled into the motel. The front-desk worker was perfectly quaint – an old man with slow-typing fingers and cloudy eyes. She checked in under a fake name and he handed her the room keys, which were dangling from a mini, plastic life raft that Michelle played with.

“Thank you,” she said.

He squinted at her. “What?”

“I said thank you.”

“Speak up, girl!” the old man practically shouted, his cloudy eyes not quite seeing her face.

“Thank you!” she repeated.

She couldn’t tell whether the words reached him as he replied with a simple ‘ok’ and continued with the paperwork he had been filling out. Kirsten smiled. She already knew the man was partially deaf. Her previous research of the motel’s workers had told her that much. If he wasn’t, they would be at a greater risk of getting caught. Especially if the silencer didn’t work.

She walked out to the motel’s enclosed courtyard, which included sun-bathing chairs and an in-ground pool smelling strongly of chlorine. Michelle started stumbling towards it, mesmerized by the water and Kirsten grabbed her hand, pulling her back from the edge. The pool was lined in a tacky blue, contrasting grossly with the orange-red building, and hanging above it, along the second-floor balcony was a pale Jesus statue, positioned just right so he stared directly at the still water below.

If her husband were here, he would say a prayer. John had always believed in God and because she loved him, she went along with it. And when he used to talk about his faith, the words would flow from him like a river. Words like mercy, forgiveness, grace. She had believed those words were true because John was there to speak them.

Now, Kirsten averted her eyes from the Jesus, making her way to the other side of the pool where her room awaited. She locked the door behind her and placed Michelle on the bed, where she immediately began jumping while Kirsten unpacked her backpack. She pulled out her clothes and toiletries, some bags of chips for her daughter and a gun.

She checked the safety and then did a double take. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw it was off.

The switch must have hit something in her bag that flicked it off, she assumed, her stomach growing nauseated. Yes, that was it. But thinking back to when she packed, she couldn’t seem to remember if she ever switched it on. Kirsten shook herself. She couldn’t believe her own stupidity. Get it together Kirsten, she told herself. You have a daughter for goodness’ sake-

Boom, boom, boom.

Kirsten jumped. pinning her eyes on the door. Three knocks.

Michelle stopped jumping on the mattress, her giggles dying out at her mom’s panicked look. Kirsten held one finger over her lips, hushing the girl as she moved toward the door, gripping the gun tightly.

“Who is it?” Kirsten could hear the uncertainty and fear in her own voice.

“Come on, you know who it is,” a gruff but familiar voice said, impatiently. Her brother-in-law. “Let me in.”

Kirsten released her breath. Had she been holding it? She quickly composed herself, opening the door to the impatient, square-shouldered man. He ducked to get through the frame, slowly taking in the room while she locked up again.

She watched him walk the perimeter of the room, observing it. He had lost some weight it seemed, while they were apart. He wasn’t as bulky anymore, but still strong. The last time they saw each other in person was five months ago, when she had reached out to meet for coffee. He had thought it was just to catch up, maybe reminisce, but as soon as he sat down she told him her plan. Her plan to kill her husband’s murderer, who had killed John in a botched mugging.

Coby was against it at first. Had even tried to talk Kirsten out of it, said that they would conduct their own investigation since the local police weren’t coming up with anything. He was a detective, after all. But Kirsten wasn’t having it. She wanted more than justice; she wanted revenge. She pleaded with him to help her. Didn’t he want revenge from the killer who took away his brother? The man she had loved? Coby had been furious at that, but he called her three days later and agreed to the plan. Since then, they had been texting and calling on burner phones, investigating and finding the man who did it. The man who would be in this very motel tomorrow.

“You’re here early,” she said.

            Coby glanced out her windows before pulling the curtains shut. “I don’t like to be late to these sorts of things.”

“You’re here a full day early,” Kirsten replied.

He turned to face her. “I thought you could use the company.”

“You thought I would be freaking out.”

“Are you?” he asked, slipping the gun from her fingers. “Don’t think I didn’t notice this when I walked in.” He frowned at the gun, then at her. “Kirsten. Safety always on. On up until you know you’re going to shoot,” He held it out to her and switched it on like he had told her to do over the phone a thousand times. “Have you been listening to anything I taught you?”

“I have!” she defended, rolling her eyes. “I just messed up, ok?”

Coby looked at her for a long while. “Kirsten,” he said softly. “I just want to make sure that you want to do this. That you’re ready to do this. Taking someone’s life is no light thing.”

She waved him off. “I’m practically owed this. John is owed this! This is justice for what happened to him. Don’t you get that?”

“I get it, you know I do,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just making sure you’re ok.” Kirsten sighed and sunk into the mattress. Coby placed the gun back in her purse and zipped it. He turned his attention to Kirsten’s daughter who was back to jumping on the bed again, dangerously close to the edge. Coby looked from Kirsten, to Michelle, and back to Kirsten as if waiting for her to say something but Kirsten was thinking of John. She was furious, imagining the fear in his eyes before he died, almost hearing the explosion of the gun, picturing the blood. She needed to make this right.

“Michelle, you know you’re not supposed to do that,” Coby scolded his niece. He picked Michelle up off the mattress and placed her on the ground. “It’s not safe.” He glanced again at Kirsten. She knew the words were meant more for her than Michelle, who had begun running around the small room.

“Oh, please,” she shot at him. “Spare me the parenting advice.”

“Why did you bring her, Kirsten?” He was growing frustrated. She could see it in his scrunched forehead, his tense shoulders, his desperate eyes, trying to understand her cumulating mistakes.

“Where was I supposed to leave her? I don’t have anybody left.” Kirsten knew her face was turning hot as her eyes pricked with angry tears. She blinked them away. “I just need to do this one last thing for John,” she said, her voice quieting. “Then I can give my full focus to Meesh.”

Coby looked from one of her eyes to the other, searching her face. “Ok. We’ll go through with it. But that means no more mistakes.” He paused after each word, making sure she got it. “Let’s go over the plan again.”

            …

The sun rose the next morning with the same intensity as the previous day, the powerful blaze seeping past the close-curtained windows, making them glow like embers. Kirsten stared at the orangey fabric, her eyes heavy from the sleepless night. Her thoughts had come fast, her mind replaying what she imagined today to be- a morning of death, an evening of escape, a night of peace. Kirsten closed her eyes, seeing her husband’s slight smile, his kind eyes. She couldn’t go on without doing this. For him.

Coby placed a bagel in her hand and Kirsten started, having barely registered that he had entered the room. She shot up from the bed.

“So?”

Coby spread butter on his bagel, not looking at her. “It went just like we planned. I saw him as he was checking in, and as soon as the clerk went to take a leak I looked at the guest book-“

“What room?” Kirsten interrupted.

Coby looked at her for a moment before responding. “102.” He checked his watch. “Housekeeping should be gone by now, so there won’t be anyone in there until this time tomorrow. He should be waiting for his ‘guest’ now.”

Kirsten smiled. Through their previous research, they had discovered her husband’s killer to be a frequent philanderer, consistently meeting up with girls in dingy places. It was Kirsten’s idea to catfish him, chatting with the man online as a fake hooker named “Trixy”. On the other end of the computer, Coby was on the phone with Kirsten, helping her lure the man to the most remote motel they could find, ultimately landing on “The Fountain”.

“Alright,” Kirsten said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

Coby held up one hand. “Nuh-uh. I go first, remember?”

Kirsten glared at him but nodded. “Be safe,” and then she added, “but remember that I want to be the one to do it.”

He didn’t reply to that, just explained that she ‘had to eat’ and that she would ‘need her strength’ for the coming day. She rolled her eyes at his bossiness but ultimately did as she was told, nibbling on the bread which tasted bland and not unlike cardboard. She wasn’t sure if that was because of the bagel or her stomach, which twisted and squeezed as she waited for Coby to give her the go ahead to join.

It seemed that this was finally happening.

Minutes later came a buzz on her phone and a text that read, “Ready for you”. Kirsten took a deep breath and stretched, hoping to relieve some of the tension in her shoulders. She gripped the gun within her purse with one hand and held Michelle’s hand with the other. They walked to the lobby, where Kirsten plopped Michelle down on a chair and gave her a bag of chips.

“Stay here honey,” she said. “Mommy will be back soon.”

She walked out to the courtyard, past the pool to room 102. Inside, sat her husband’s killer blindfolded and tied to a chair in the center of the room. Coby stood next to him with bloody knuckles and a cut just above his eyebrow, breathing heavily. They looked at each other, silent understanding about what they were about to do passing between them.

She approached the chair and raised the gun to the man’s head. He had a small mole two inches below his hairline. That’s what she would aim for. In her mind, she saw her John again- cradling newborn Michelle with tearful eyes, holding Michelle’s small hands as she learned to walk, squeezing both of them in a bear hug.

Her hand began to shake. She grasped it with both hands, forcing the gun to still. She opened her mouth to keep her quivering breaths silent. Just do it, do it, do it.

She was about to. She really was, but that was when Coby’s eyes twitched to somewhere past the man, out the window, where the courtyard and pool were in view. His usual half-lidded eyes blew wide, alarm flashing in his face.

Kirsten followed Coby’s gaze to see Michelle.

Michelle, waddling to the edge of the pool, and falling face first into the water.

Kirsten shrieked. Panic surged through her like she had never felt, and she dropped the gun, racing out the door. She crashed into the pool like a madwoman, snatching her flailing daughter from the water and holding her above the waist deep water. Michelle coughed wetly and spluttered, water leaking from her nose and mouth as Kirsten held her tightly, patting her back.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” Kirsten breathed, her whole body shaking with simultaneous panic and relief. She held her daughter out in front of her looking at Michelle’s soaked, beautiful face. A face that had John’s nose, his smile, his kind eyes. “That’s not safe, Michelle,” she said sternly, her voice quivering. “Don’t do that, ok?” She held her close again. “Don’t do that,” she repeated, and began to cry.

“Are you guys, ok?” Coby asked as he jumped into the pool. Kirsten nodded, unable to speak past her sobs. The clerk had shuffled into the courtyard as well, confusion on his face at the racket. He must not have been as deaf as they thought he was. Coby wadded over to them, checking on Michelle before he leaned close to her. “Don’t worry, I hid the gun and shut the door,” he whispered. “Nothing happened, the clerk doesn’t know anything.” But Kirsten didn’t care anymore. She looked up at the Jesus statue and thanked God. Maybe she did believe after all.

Kirsten left Coby to deal with the man after that, knowing he would do the right thing to bring him to justice. She and Michelle waited outside of the motel for the bus; the heat of the day having cooled into a breezy evening. Kirsten reached into her bag to grab sunscreen for Michelle when her fingers bumped into something cold and hard. She pulled out the gun, realizing that Coby must’ve put it back into her purse.

She smiled, realizing all that time she had held the gun to the man’s head, the safety had been on.